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You put me off with limber vows; but I,
Tho' you would seek t' unfphere the stars 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 pirfoner,
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 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 question 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 frifk 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 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 those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;
Your precious felf had then not crofs'd the eyes
Of my young play-fellow.

Her. Oh! Grace to boot!

OF

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 you 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 ftay, my Lord.

Leo. At my request he would not: Hermione, my dearest, thou ne'er spok't 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 praife, and make's As fat as tame things: one good deed, dying tongueless, Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that.

Our praises are our wages. You may ride's
With one soft 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 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 thyself my love; then didst thou utter,
I am yours for ever,

Her, This is grace indeed,

Why, lo you now; I've spoke to th' purpose twice;
The one for ever earn'd a royal hufband;
The other, for fome while a friend,

Leo, Too hot

9

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's fertile bøfom z
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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-glafs-and then to figh, as 't were
The mort o'th' deer; * oh, that is entertainment
My bofom likes not, nor my brows- -Mamillus,
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 is a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain;
[Wipes the boy's face.

the heifer, and the calf,
Still virginalling

And yet the fteer,
Are all call'd neat.

[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 shoots that I have, To be full like me. Yet they fay we are Almoft as like as eggs; women say fo, 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 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 doff,
And that beyond commiffion; and I find it,

• A leffon 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 itself Bu fade and grow rufty much the fooner.

And

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

Pol. What means Sicilia?

Her. He fomething seems 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 earneft.

How fometimes nature will betray its folly!
Its tenderness! and make it felf a paftime
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 muzzied,
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! Miné honeft 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 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 childishnefs, cures in me
Thoughts that should thick my blood.

Leo. So ftands the 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:
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 there?

Be

;

Leo. To your own bents difpofe you; you'll be found you beneath the fky: I am angling now, Tho' you perceive me not how I give line Go to, go to. Afide, obferving Her. How the 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, whofe iffue
Will hifs me to my grave: contempt and clamour
Will be my knell. 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 speak 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 those gates open'd,
As mine, against their will, Should all defpair
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; *many a thousand of's
Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy?
Mam. I am like you, they fay.

Leo. Why, that's fome comfort,

3

What is Camillo there?

Cam, Ay, my good Lord..

Leo, Go play, Mamillus-thou'rt an honeft man,

[Exit Mamillys,

Camillo; this great

SCENE III.
Sir will yet ftay longer,

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

It will let in and out the enemy,
With bag and baggage; many, &N

.....

predominant; and 'tis powerful: think it. From eaft, weft, north and fouth, be it concluded, No barricado for a belly. Know'

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