give you sleepy drinks; that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us.

Cam. You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely.

Arch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me, and as mine honesty puts it

to utterance.

Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself overkind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities, and royal necessities, made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attornied, with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves!

Arch. I think, there is not in the world either malice, or matter, to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius; it is a gentleman of the greatest promise, that ever came into my note.

Cam. I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: It is a gallant child; one that, indeed, physics the subject, makes old hearts fresh: they, that went on crutches ere he was born, desire yet their life, to see him a man.

Arch. Would they else be content to die ? Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse, why they should desire to live.

Arch. If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches, till he had one.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same. A room of state in the palace.

peace until

You had drawn oaths from him, not to stay.
You, sir,

Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sure,
All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction
The by-gone day proclaim'd; say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.

Leon. Well said, Hermione.

Her. To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong:

But let him say so then, and let him go;
But let him swear so, and he shall not stay,
We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.-

Yet of your royal presence To Polixenes.] I'll

adventure

MILLIUS, CAMILLO, and Attendants.

wat ry

Pol. Nine changes of the wat'ry star have been The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne Without a burden: time as long again

Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks;
And yet we should, for perpetuity,

Go hence in debt. And therefore, like a cipher,
Yet standing in rich place, I multiply,
With one we thank you, many thousands more,
That go before it.

Leon. Stay your thanks awhile ;

And pay them, when you part.

Pol. Sir, that's to-morrow.

I am question'd by my fears, of what may

chance,

Or breed upon our absence: That may blow No sneaping winds at home, to make us say, This is put forth too truly! Besides, I have

stay'd

To tire your royalty.

Pol. No, madam.

Her. Nay, but you will? Pol. I may not, verily.

Her. Verily!

You put me off with limber vows: But I,

Though you would seek to unsphere the stars

with oaths,

Should yet say, Sir, no going. Verily,
You shall 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 guest; so you shall pay your fees, When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?

My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread

verily,

One of them you shall be.

Pol. Your guest then, madam:

To be your prisoner, should import offending;
Which is for me less easy to commit,
Than you to punish.

Her. Not your gaoler then,

But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you Of my lord's tricks, and yours, when you were boys;

Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter, I am yours for ever.

You were pretty lordlings then.

Pol. We were, fair queen,

Her. It is Grace, indeed.

Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose

twice:

hind,

But such a day to-morrow as to-day,

And to be boy eternal.

Her. Was not my lord the verier wag o'the two?

Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk ithe sun,

And bleat the one at the 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 pursued that life,
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd
heaven

Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd,
Hereditary ours.

Her. By this we gather,

You have tripp'd since.

Pol. O my most sacred lady, Temptations have since then been born to us; for In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had not then cross'd the eyes Of my young play-fellow.

Her. Grace to boot!

The other, for some while a friend.

[Giving her hand to Polirenes.

Aside.

Leon. Too hot, too hot: 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 bosom, And well become the agent: it may, I grant: But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers, As now they are; and making practis'd smiles, As in a looking-glass;-and then to sigh, as 'twere

The mort o'the deer; O, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows. Mamillius,
Art thou my boy ?

Mam. Ay, my good lord.
Leon. I'fecks?

Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd

thy nose?

They say, 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

Observing Polixenes and Hermione, Upon his palm?-How now, you wanton calf? Art thou my calf?

Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord.

Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have,

false

To be full like me :-yet, they say, we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will say any thing: But were they false
As o'er-died blacks, as wind, as waters;
As dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes
No bourn 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true
To say this boy were like me.-Come, sir page,
Look on me with your welkin eye: Sweet vil-
lain!

Most dear'st! my collop!-Can thy dam?may't be?

Affection! thy intention stabs the centre: Thou dost make possible, things not so held, Communicat'st with dreams;-(How can this

be?)

With what's unreal thou coactive art,

And fellow'st nothing: Then 'tis very credent, Thou may'st co-join with something; and thou

dost;

(And that beyond commission; and I find it.) And that to the infection of my brains, And hardening of my brows.

Pol. What means Sicilia?

Her. He something seems unsettled.
Pol. How, my lord?

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

Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd

In that which seems so.

That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing;

Cam. Be it forbid, my lord! Leon. To bide upon't;-Thou art not honest: or,

If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward; Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining

From course requir'd: Or else thou must be

counted

And tak'st it all for jest.

Cam. My gracious lord,

I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;
In every one of these no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
Amongst the infinite doings of the world,
Sometimes puts forth: In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful-negligent,

It was my folly; if industriously

I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end: if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out

Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft affects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty
Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace,
Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
By its own visage: if I then deny it,

'Tis none of mine.

Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo, (But that's past doubt: you have; or your eyeglass

Is thicker than a cuckold's horn ;) or heard, (For, to a vision so apparent, rumour

Cannot be mute,) or thought, (for cogitation Resides not in that man, that does not think it,) My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess,

(Or else be impudently negative,

The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these

nothings, If this be nothing.

Cam. Good my lord, be cur'd

Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes;
For 'tis most dangerous.

Leon. Say, it be; 'tis true.

Cam. No, no, my lord.

Leon. It is; you lie, you lie :

I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee;
Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave;
Or else a hovering temporizer, that
Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,
Inclining to them both: Were my wife's liver
Infected as her life, she would not live
The running of one glass.

Cam. Who docs infect her?

Leon. Why, he that wears her like her medal,

hanging

About his neck, Bohemia; who-if I
Had servants true about me; that bare eyes
To see alike mine honour as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts, they would do

that,

Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou, His cup-bearer, whom I from meaner form Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'st see

Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven,

How I am galled,-might'st bespice a cup,
To give mine enemy a lasting wink;
Which draught to me were cordial.

Cam. Sir, my lord,

I could do this; and that with no rash potion, But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work Maliciously like poison: But I cannot

Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, So sovereignly being honourable.

say,

My wife's a hobbyhorse; deserves a name
As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight; say it, and justify it.

Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear

My sovereign mistress clouded 80, without
My present vengeance taken: 'Shrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you less
Than this; which to reiterate, were sin
As deep as that, though true.

Leon. Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes

Leon. Make't thy question, and go rot! Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled, To appoint myself in this vexation? sully The purity and whiteness of my sheets, Which to preserve, is sleep; which being spotted, Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps? Give scandal to the blood o'the prince my son, Who, I do think is mine, and love as mine, Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this? Could man so blench?

Cam. I must believe you, sir; I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't: Provided, that, when he's remov'd, your highness Will take again your queen, as yours at first; Even for your son's sake; and, thereby, for sealing

The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours.