You were pretty lordings then?

Pol. We were, fair Queen,

Two lads, that thought there was no more behind,
But fuch a day to morrow as to day,

And to be boy eternal.

Her. Was not my lord

The verier wag o'th' two?

Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i'th'

And bleat the one at th' other; what we chang'd,
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing; no, nor dream'd,
That any did: had we purfu'd that life,
And our weak fpirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With ftronger blood, we fhould have anfwer'd heaven
Boldly, Not guilty; th' impofition clear'd, (2)
Hereditary ours.

Her. By this we gather,

You have tript fince.

Pol. O my most facred lady,

Temptations have fince then been born to's: for
In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;
Your precious felf had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young play-fellow.

Her. Grace to boot!

Of this make no conclufion, left you say,
Your Queen and I are devils. Yet, go on;
Th' offences we have made you do, we'll answer;
If you firft finn'd with us, and that with us
You did continue fault; and that you flipt not,
With any but with us.

Leo. Is he won yet?

Her. He'll ftay, my lord.

Leo. At my request he would not:

Hermione, my dearest, thou ne'er spok'st


th' Impofition clear'd,

Hereditary ours.] i. e. fetting afide Original Sin: bating That Impofition from the Offence of our first Parents, we might have boldly protefted our Innocence to Heaven, against any Guilt committed by Ourselves.

To better purpose.

Her. Never?

Leo. Never, but once.

Her. What


have I twice faid well? when was't be

I pr'ythee, tell me; cram's with praife, and make's
As fat as tame things: one good deed, dying tongue-lefs,
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon That.
Our praifes are our wages. You may ride's
With one foft kifs a thousand furlongs, ere
With fpur we heat an acre. But to th' goal:
My laft good deed was to intreat his stay;
What was my first? it has an elder fifter,

Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace!
But once before I spake to th' purpose! when?
Nay, let me hav't; I long.

Leo. Why, that was when

Three crabbed months had fowr'd themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,

And clepe thy felf my love; then didst thou utter, "I am yours for ever.

Her. 'Tis grace, indeed.

Why, lo you now; I've fpoke to th' purpose twice; The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;

Th' other, for fome while a friend.

Leo. Too hot, too hot

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To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordis on me- my heart dances;
But not for joy- not joy. This entertainment
May a free face put on; derive a liberty
From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bofom,
And well become the Agent: 't may, I grant;
But to be padling palms, and pinching fingers,
As now they are, and making practis'd smiles,
As in a looking-glass
The mort o' th' deer; oh, that is entertainment
My bofom likes not, nor my brows

Art thou my boy?

and then to figh, as 'twere

Mam. Ay, my good lord.

Leo. I' fecks!



Why, that's my bawcock; what? has't fmutch'd thy


They fay, it's a copy out of mine.

We must be neat;

And yet the steer,

Are all call'd neat.

Come, captain,
not neat, but cleanly, captain;
the heifer, and the calf,
Still virginalling

[Obferving Polixenes and Hermione.

Upon his palm ?- -how now, you wanton calf!
Art thou my calf?

Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord.

Leo. Thou want'ft a rough pash, and the fhoots that
I have,

To be full like me.-Yet they fay, we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,

That will fay any thing; but were they falfe,
As o'er-dy'd blacks, as winds, as waters; falfe
As dice are to be wifh'd, by one that fixes
No bourne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true
To fay, this boy were like me. Come, Sir page,
Look on me with your welkin-eye, sweet villain.
Moft dear'ft, my collop-can thy dam
Imagination! thou doft ftab to th' center.
Thou doft make poffible things not be fo held,
Communicat'ft with dreams- -(how can this be?)
With what's unreal, Thou co-active art,

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may't be

And fellow't Nothing. Then 'tis very credent,
Thou may'st co-join with fomething, and thou doft,
And That beyond commiffion; and I find it ;
And That to the infection of my brains,

And hardning of my brows.

Pol. What means icilia?

Her. He fomething feems unfettled.

Pol. How? my lord?

Leo. What cheer? how is't with you, best brother ?

Her. You look,

As if you held a brow of much Distraction.

Are not you mov'd, my


Leo. No, in good earnest.

How fometimes nature will betray its folly!
Its tenderness! and make it self a pastime

To harder bofoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil
Twenty three years, and faw my felf unbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled,
Left it should bite its mafter; and fo prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous;

How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This fquafh, this gentleman. Mine honeft friend,
Will you take eggs for mony?

Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.

Leo. You will! why, happy man be's dole!My brother,

Are you fo fond of your young Prince, as we
Do feem to be of ours?

Pal. If at home, Sir,

He's all my exercife, my mirth, my matter;
Now my fworn friend, and then mine enemy;
My parafite, my foldier, ftates-man, all;
He makes a July's day fhort as December;
And with his varying childnefs, cures in me
Thoughts that should thick my blood.
Leo. So ftands this Squire

Offic'd with me: we two will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver fteps. Hermione,
How thou lov'ft us, fhew in our brother's welcome:
Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap:

Next to thy felf, and my young rover, he's
Apparent to my heart.

Her. If you will feek us,

We are yours i'th' garden: fhall's attend you there? Leo. To your own bents difpofe you; you'll be found,

Be you beneath the sky: I am angling now,

Tho' you perceive me not, how I give line;

Go to, go to.

[Afide, obferving Her.

How fhe holds up the neb! the bill to him!

And arms her with the boldness of a wife

[Exe. Polix. Her. and attendants. Manent Leo. Mam. and Cam.

To her allowing husband. Gone already,

Inch-thick, knee-deep; o'er head and ears, a fork'd one.


Go, play, boy, play-thy mother plays, and I
Play too; but fo difgrac'd a part, whose iffue
Will hifs me to my grave: contempt and clamour
Will be my knel. Go, play, boy, play-

have been,


Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now;
And many a man there is, even at this prefent,
Now while I fpeak this, holds his wife by th' arm,
That little thinks, fhe has been fluic'd in's absence;
And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by
Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in't,
Whiles other men have gates; and those gates open'd,
As mine, against their will. Should all despair,
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Phyfick for't, there is none:
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike

Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful: think it.
From eaft, weft, north and south, be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly. Know't,

It will let in and out the enemy,

With bag and baggage: many a thousand of's
Have the difeafe, and feel't not. How now, boy?
Mam. I am like you, they say.

Leo. Why, that's fome comfort.

What? Camillo there?

Cam. Ay, my good Lord.

Leo. Go play, Mamillius

-thou'rt an honest man:

Camillo, this Great Sir will yet ftay longer.

[Ex. Mamil.

Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold;

When you caft out, it ftill came home.

Leo. Didft note it?

Cam. He would not ftay at your petitions made; His bufinefs more material.

Leo. Didit perceive it?

They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding: Sicilia is a fo-forth; 'tis far gone,

When I fhall guft it laft. How cam't, Camillo,

That he did ftay?

Cam. At the good Queen's entreaty.



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