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To tire your Royalty.
Leo. We are tougher, brother,
Than you can put us to't.
Pol. No longer ftay.
Leo. One fev'n-night longer.
Pol. Very footh, to-morrow.
Leo. We'll part the time between's then: and in that I'll no gain-faying.
Pol. Prefs me not, 'befeech
There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'th'world
So foon as yours, could win me: fo it fhould now
Were there neceffity in your request, altho'
"Twere needful I deny'd it. My affairs
Do even drag me homeward; which to hinder,
Were, in your love, a whip to me, my stay,
To you a charge and trouble: to fave both,
Farewel, our brother!
Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queen? fpeak you.
Her. I had thought, Sir, to have held my peace, until
You had drawn oaths from him not to ftay: you, Sir,
Charge him too coldly. Tell him you are fure
All in Bithynia's well: this fatisfaction
The by-gone day proclaim'd; say this to him,
He's beat from his beft ward.
Leo. Well faid, Hermione.
Her. To tell, he longs to fee his fon, were ftrong;
But let him fay fo then, and let him go;
But let him swear fo, and he fhall not stay,
We'll thwack him hence with diftaffs.
Yet of your royal prefence I'll adventure
The borrow of a week. When at Bithynia
You take my Lord, I'll give you my commiffion
To let him there a month, behind the gefte
Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good heed, Leontes;
I love thee not a jar o'th' clock behind
What Lady fhe her Lord.
Pol. No, Madam.
Her. Nay, but you will."
Pol. I may not verily.
You'll stay ?
You put me off with limber vows; but I,
Tho' you would seek t'unsphere the ftars with oaths,
Should yet fay, Sir, no going: verily
You fhall not go; a Lady's verily is
As potent as a Lord's. Will you go yet?
Force me to keep you as a prisoner,
Not like a gueft? fo you fhall pay your fees
When you depart, and save your thanks. How fay you?
My prifoner? or my gueft? by your dread verily,
One of them you shall be.'
Pol. Your gueft then, Madam:
To be your prifoner, fhould import offending;
Which is for me lefs eafie 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' fun,
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 should have answer'd heaven
Boldly, not guilty; th' impofition clear'd
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 then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young play-fellow.
Her. Oh! Grace to
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 anfwer,
firft finn'd with us, and that with us
You did continue fault; and that you slipt 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 dearest, thou ne'er spok'st
To better purpose.
Leo. Never, but once.
Her. What have I twice faid well? when was't before?
I pr'ythee tell me; cram's with praife, and make's
As fat as tame things: one good deed, dying tonguelefs,
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that,
Our praises are our wages. You may ride's
With one soft kiss 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 first? 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 have'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. This is grace indeed.
Why, lo you now; I've fpoke to th' purpofe twice;
The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;
The other, for fome while a friend.
Leo. Too hot
To mingle friendship far, is mingling blocds.
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's fertile befom;
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 fmiles
As in a looking-glafs--and then to figh, as 'twere
The mort o'th' deer; oh, that is entertainment
My bofom likes not, nor my
Art thou my boy?
Mam. Ay, my good Lo.d. M
Leo. I'fecks !
Why, that's my bawcock; what, has't fmutch'd thy nofe?
They fay it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain;
[Wipes the boy's face.
And yet the fteer,
Are all call'd neat.
the heifer, and the calf,
[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 pafh, and the shoots 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 false, As o'er-dy'd blacks, † as winds, as waters; false As dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true, To fay this boy is like me. Come, Sir page, Look on me with your welking eye, fweet 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 to be fo held, Communicat'ft with dreams, (how can this be?) With what's unreal, thou coactive art! And fellow'ft nothings. Then 'tis very credent Thou may'ft co-join with fomething, and thou doft, And that beyond commiffion; and I find it,
* A leflon upon the horn at the death of the deer.
A black dye being used in too great quantity doth not only make the cloth to rot upon which it is put, but the colour je felf to fade and grow rafty much the fooner.
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?
What cheer? how is it with you, my best brother?
Her. You feem to hold a brow of much distraction.
Are you not mov'd, my Lord?
Leo. No, in good earnest.
How fometimes nature will betray its folly!
Its tenderness! and make it felf a pastime
To harder bofoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil
Twenty three years, and faw my self 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 honest friend,
Will you take eggs for mony?"
Mam. No, I'll fight.
Leo. You will! why, happy man be's dole! My brother,
Are you so fond of your young Prince, as we
Do seem 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 childishnefs, 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 would seek us,
We are yours i' th' garden: fhall's attend you