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

Arch. If the King had no son, they would defire to live on crutches 'till he had one.

SCENE opens to the Presence.

Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes,

and Attendants.

Pol. Nine Changes of the watry star hath been
The shepherd's note, since we have left our Throne
Without a burthen: 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 cypher,
Yet standing in rich place, I multiply
With one, we thank you, many thousands more
That go before it.

Leo. Stay your thanks a while;

And pay them, when you part.

Pol. Sir, that's to morrow:

I'm 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.

Leo. We are tougher, brother,

Than you can put us to't.

Pol. No longer Stay.

Leo. One sev'n-night longer.

Pol. Very footh, to morrow.

ફોડ અંત માંજુ

Leo. We'll part the time between's then: and in that,

I'll no gain-faying.

Pol. Press me not, 'beseech you, fo;

There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'th' world, So foon as yours, could win me: so it should 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 save both,
Farewell, our brother.

Leo. Tongue-ty'd, our Queen? speak you.

Her. I had thought, Sir, to've held my peace, until
You 'ad drawn oaths from him not to stay: you, Sir,
Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are fure,
All in Bohemia's well: this fatisfaction

The by-gone day proclaim'd; say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.

Leo. Well faid, 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 I'll adventure

[To Polixenes.

The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
You take my lord, I'll give him my commission,
To let him there a month, behind the gest (2)
Prefix'd for's parting: yet, (good-deed) Leontes,
I love thee not a jar o'th' clock behind
What lady she her lord. You'll stay?
Pol. No, Madam.

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

Her. Verily?

You put me off with limber vows; but I,
Tho' you would seek t'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 prifoner,

Not like a guest? so you shall pay your fees,
When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?
My prifoner? 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 easie to commit,
Than you to punish.

Her. Not your Goaler then,

But your kind Hostess; 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 such 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 pursu'd that life,
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven
Boldly, Not guilty; th' impofition clear'd, (3)
Hereditary ours.

Her. By this we gather,

You have tript since.

Pol. O my most sacred lady,

Temptations have fince then been born to's: for

In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;
Your precious self 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 anfwer;
If you first sinn'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 dearest, thou ne'er spok'st

To better purpose.

Her. Never?

Leo. Never, but once.

ال

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

before?.ppt

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 thousand, waiting upon That.
Our praises are our wages. You may ride's
With one foft kiss a thousand furlongs, ere
With spur we heat an acre. But to th' goal:
My last 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 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. '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 some while a friend.

Leo.

Leo. Too hot, too hot

To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.

I have tremor cordis on me

But not for joy

not joy

my heart dances;

[Afide

this entertainment

May a free face put on; derive a liberty
From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,
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 and then to figh, as 'twere
The mort o' th' deer; (4) oh, that is entertainment

My bosom likes not, nor my brows

Art thou my boy?

Mam. Ay, my good lord.

Leon. I' fecks!

Mamillius,

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

nose?

They say, it is 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?

Art thou my calf?

[Observing Polixenes and Hermione.

how now, you wanton calf!

Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord.

Leo. Thou want'st 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 say 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 bourne '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 villain.
Most dear'st, my collop- can thy dam?- may't be-
Imagination! thou dost stab to th' center.

(4) The Mort o'th' Deer.] To blow a Mort, is a hunting Phrafe, fignifying, to found a particular Air, call'd a Mort, to give notice that the Deer, which was hunted, is run down, and killing, or kill'd.

F4

Thou