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Communicat'st with dreams -(how can this be?)
With what's unreal, thou co-active art,
And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent,
Thou may'st co-join with something, and thou dost,
And that beyond commiffion; and I find it;
And that to the infection of my brains,
And hardning of my brows.

Pol. What means Sicilia?
Her. He something seems unsettled.
Pol. How? my lord ?
Leo. What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?

HER. You look
As if you held a brow of much distraction.
Are you not mov'd, my lord ?

Leo. 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,
Left it should bite its master; and fo prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous;
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,
Will
you
take
eggs

for
Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.

[ther.
Leo. You will!—why, happy man be's dole!--my bre-
Are you so fond of your young prioce, as we
Do seem to be of ours?

Pol. If at home, Sir,
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter;

money?

Now
my

sworn friend, and then mine enemy;
My parafite, my soldier, statęs-man, all;
He makes a July's day short as December;
And with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that should thick my blood.

Leo. So ftands this fquire
Offic'd with me: we two will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,
How thou lov'st us, fhew in our brother's welcome :
Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap:
Next to thyself, and my young rover, he's
Apparent to my heart.

Her. If you will seek us,
We are yours i'th' garden: shall's attend you there?

Leo. To your own bents dispose you; you'll be found, Be

you beneath the sky.-I am angling now, Tho' you perceive me not, how I give line ;

[Aside, observing Her. How she holds up the neb! the bill to him! And arms her with the boldness of a wife

[Exeunt Polix. Her. and attendants. Manent Leo.

Mam. and Cam. To her allowing husband. Gone already, Inch-thick, knee-deep; o'er-head and ears,—~' fork'd one.-Go, play, boy, play-thy mother plays, and I Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour Will be my knel.-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 present, Now while I speak this, holds his wife by th' arm, That little thinks, she has been flusc'd in's absence;

Go to, go to.

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 despair,
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physick for't, there is none :
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike
Where 'tis predominant ; and 'tis powerful,
From east, west, north, and south. Be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly. Know't,
It will let in and out the enemy,
With bag and baggage; many a thousand of 's
Have the disease, and feel't not. -How now,

boy?
Mam. I am like you, they say.

Leo. Why, that's some comfort.
What is Camillo there?

CAM. Ay, my good lord.
Leo, Go play, Mamillius.--Thou'rt an honest man :

[Exit Mamil. SCENE 111. 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.

Leo. Didst note it?

Cam. He would not stay at your petitions made;
His business more material.

Leo. Didst perceive it?
They're here with me already; whispering, rounding:
Sicilia is a so-forth; 'tis far gone,
When I shall gust it last. How came't, Camillo,
That he did stay?

CAM, At the good queen's entreaty.

Leo. At the queen’s be't; good, should be pertinent; But so it is, it is not. Was this taken By any understanding pate but thine? For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in More than the common blocks; not noted, is't, But of the finer natures ? by some severals Of head-piece extraordinary; lower messes, Perchance, are to this business purblind ? say.

Cam. Business, my lord? I think, most underftand Bohemia stays here longer.

Leo. Ha ?
Cam. Stays here longer.
LEO. Ay, but why?

Cam. To satisfy your highness, and th' entreaties Of our most gracious mistress.

Leo. Satisfy
Th' entreaties of your mistress?fatisfy ?-
Let that suffice. I've trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the things nearest my heart; as well
My chamber-councils, wherein, priest like, thou
Haft cleans'd my bosom: I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform'd; but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity ; deceivid
In that, which seems so.

Cam. Be it forbid, my lord-
Leo. 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 drawa,

And tak ft 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 industriouffy 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, 'was a fear Which oft infects 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.

Leo. Ha'not you seen, Camillo, (But that's past doubt, you have; or your eye-glafs 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 do's not think it) My wife is slippery; if thou wilt, confess; (Or else be impudently negative, To have nor eyes nor ears, nor thought) then say, My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name As rank as any fax-wench, that puts to Before her troth plight: lay't, and justify't.

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