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Not like a gueft; fo you fhall pay your fees,
When you depart, and fave your thanks. How fay you?
My prifoner? or my gueft? by your dread verily,
One of them you fhall be.

Pol. Your Gueft then, Madam:

To be your prisoner, should import offending;
Which is for me less eafy to commit,

Than you to punish,

Her. Not your Goaler then,

But your kind Hoftefs; come, I'll queftion you
Of my lord's tricks, and yours, when you were boys:
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'Sun,
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,
Hereditary ours.

Her. By this we gather,

You have tript fince.

Pol. O, my moft facred lady,

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

Her. Grace to boot!

Of this make no conclufion, left you fay,
Your Queen and I are devils. Yet, go on;

Th' offences we have made you do, we'll answer;

If

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 stay, my Lord.

Leo. At my request he would not : Hermione, my deareft, thou ne'er spok'st To better purpose.

Her. Never?

Leo. Never, but once.

Her. What? have I twice faid well? when was't before?

I pr'ythee, tell me; cram's with praise, and make's As fat as tame things: one good deed, dying tongue

lefs,

Slaughters a thoufand, waiting upon That.
Our praises 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 ftay; What was my firft? it has an elder fifter,

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

Leo. Why, that was when

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

And clepe thyfelf my love; then didst thou utter,

I am yours for ever.

Her. 'Tis grace, indeed.

Why, lo you now; I've spoke 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

To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordis on me-my heart dances;

[Afide.

But not for joy-not joy.-This entertainment
May a free face put on; derive a liberty

From

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From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bofom,
And well become the Agent: 't may, I grant;
But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers,
As now they are, and making practis'd fmiles,
As in a looking-glass—and then to figh, as 'twere
The mort o'th' deer; oh, that is entertainment
My bofom likes not, nor my brows-Mamillius,
Art thou my boy?

Mam. Ay, my good lord.

Leo. I' fecks!

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

nofe?

They fay, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain;
And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,
Are all call'd neat. Still virginalling

Upon his palm ?

[Obferving Polixenes and Hermione.

Art thou my calf?

how now, you wanton calf!

Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord.

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

To be full like me.Yet they say, 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; false,
As dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes
No bourne 'twixt his and mine;
To fay, this boy were like me.

yet were it true
Come, Sir page,
Look on me with your welkin-eye, sweet villain.
Moft dear'ft, my collop-can thy dam-may't be-
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,

And fellow't Nothing. Then 'tis very credent, Thou may'st co join with fomething, and thou doft, And That beyond commiflion; and I find it;

And

And That to the infection of my brains,
And hardning of my brows.

Pol. What means Sicilia?

Her. He fomething feems unfettled.

Pol. How? my lord ?

Leo. What cheer? how is't with you, beft brother? Her. You look,

As if you

held a brow of much Diftraction. Are not you mov'd, my lord?

Leo. No, in good earnest.

How sometimes nature will betray its folly!
Its tenderness! and make itself a pastime
To harder bofoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil
Twenty-three years, and faw myself unbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled,
Left it fhould bite its mafter; and fo prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous;

How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for money?

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?

Pol. 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 fhould 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't us, fhew in our brother's welcome:
Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap :

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Next to thyfelf, 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 beneath the sky: I am angling now,

you 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

[Exeunt 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 so difgrac'd a part, whofe iffue
Will hifs me to my grave: contempt and clamour
Will be my knel. Go, play, boy, play-there 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 abfence;
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 thofe gates open'd,
As mine, against their will. Should all difpair,
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Phyfic for't, there is none:
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike
[it.
Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful: think
'tis powerful: think it.] After this there are four Lines of
infamous, senseless Rabaldry, ftuck in by fome profligate Player,
which I have cafhier'd; and hope no learned Critic, or fine Lady,
will efteem this caftrated Edition, for our having now and then on
the fame Neceffity, and after having given fair Notice, taken the
fame Liberty.
Mr. Warburton.

*

Many

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