And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter, I am yours for ever. Her. It is Grace, indeed. — Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice; The one for ever earn'd a royal husband; Leon. [Giving her hand to POLIXENEs. Too hot, too hot: [Aside. - To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods. 'twere The mort o' the deer9; O, that is entertainment Art thou my boy? Mam. Leon. Mamillius, 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. Trembling of the heart. 9 The tune played at the death of the deer. 2 i. e. Playing with her fingers on a spinnet. Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have3, To be full like me:— yet, they say, we are say yet were it true -Come, sir page, eye: Sweet villain! Most dear'st! my collop!-Can thy dam ?—may't be? Affection! thy intention stabs the center: With what's unreal thou co-active art, And fellow'st nothing: Then, 'tis very credent3, And hardening of my brows. Pol. What means Sicilia? How, my lord? Her. He something seems unsettled. What cheer? how i'st with you, best brother? You look, Her. lord? Leon. No, in good earnest. How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines Of my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil Twenty-three years: and saw myself unbreech'd, In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled, 3 Thou wantest a rough head, and the budding horns that I have. 4 Blue, like the sky. › Credible. Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight. Leon. You will? why happy man be his dole 8! Are you so fond of your young prince as we Pol. Leon. Hermione, How thou lov'st us, show in our brother's wel come; Let what.is dear in Sicily, be cheap : Her. If you would seek us, We are yours i' the garden: Shall's attend you there? Leon. To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found, Be you beneath the sky:- I am angling now, [Aside. Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE. 6 Pea-cod. 7 Will you be cajoled? 8 May his lot in life be a happy one. She arms her with the boldness of a wife [Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Go, play, boy, play ;- thy mother plays, and I Will be knell. Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now: Leon. - Why, that's some comfort. What! Camillo there? Cam. Ay, my good lord. Leon. Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest [Exit MAMILLIUS. Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold: When you cast out, it still came home. Leon. Didst note it? Cam. He would not stay at your petitions; made His business more material. Leon. Didst perceive it? They're here with me already; whispering, round ing", Sicilia is a so-forth: 'Tis far gone, When I shall gust it last.-How cam't, Camillo, At the good queen's entreaty. Approving. To round in the ear was to tell secretly. 3 Taste. Leon. At the queen's, be't: good, should be per tinent; But so it is, it is not. Was this taken stand Bohemia stays here longer. Leon. Cam. Leon. Ay, but why? Ha? Stays here longer. Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress. Leon. Satisfy The entreaties of your mistress? -satisfy? Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, With all the nearest things to my heart, as well My chamber-councils: wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleans'd my bosom; I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd In that which seems so. 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 A servant, grafted in my serious trust, And therein negligent; or else a fool, That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, And tak'st it all for jest. Cam. My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful; Inferiors in rank. 5 To hox is to hamstring. |