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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 first finn'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 :

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Hermione, my dearest, thou ne'er spok'ft

To better purpose.

Her. Never?

Leo. Never, but once.

Her. What? have I twice said well? when was't before?
I pr'ythee tell me; cram's with praise, 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 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 sister,
Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace!
But once before I spake to the purpose ? when?

Nay, let me have't; I long.

Leo. Why, that was when

Three crabbed months had sowr'd themselves to death,
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,

And clepe thy self 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 earu'd a royal husband;

The other, for some while a friend.

Leo. 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's fertile bosom ;

B 3

[Afide.

And

:

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; * oh, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows- Mamillus,
Art thou my boy?

Mam. Ay, my good Lord.

Lea. I'fecks!

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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 neas, but cleanly, captain;

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[Wipes the boy's face.

And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,

Are all call'd neat. Still virginalling

[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'st a rough path, and the shoots that Thave,

To be full like me. Yet they say we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will fay 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 borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true,
To say this boy is like me. Come, Sir page,
Look on me with your welking eye, sweet villain.
Most dear'sft, my collop-can thy dam? may't be
Imagination! thou dost stab to th' center.
Thou doft make poffible, things not to be so held,
Communicat'st with dreams, (how can this be?)
With what's unreal, thou coactive art !
And fellow'st nothings. Then 'tis very credent
Thou may'st co-join with something, and thou doft

And that beyond commiffion; and I find it,

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* A leffon upon the horn at the death of the deer... † A black aje being ufed in too great quantity doth not only makey the cloth to rot upon which it is pus, but the colpar it felf to fade and grow fuity much the fooner.

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

Pol. What means Sicilia?

Her. He something seems unfettled.

Pol, How? my Lord?

What cheer? how is it with you, my beft brother?
Her. You feem to hold a brow of much distraction.
Are you not mov'd, my Lord?

Lev. No, in good earnest.

How fometimes nature will betray its folly!
Its tenderness! and make it self a paftime
To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil
Twenty three years, and saw my self unbreech'd,
In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled,
Left it should bite its master, and so 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 mony?

Mam. No, I'll fight.

Lea. You will! why, happy man be's dole! My brother,

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

Leo. So stands this Squire

Offic'd with me: we two will walk, my Lord,
And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,
How thou lov'st us, shew 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 seck us,.

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We are yours i' th' garden: shall's attend you there?

L

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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;

Go to, go to.

L

[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, hick, knee deep; o'er head and ears a 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 knell. Go play, boy, play-there have been,
Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now;
An 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 fluic'd in's absence,
And his pond fish'd by his next neigbour, 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. Physick 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 say.

Leo. Why, that's some comfort.

What? is Camillo there?

Cam. Ay, my good Lord.

Leo. Go play, Mamillus-thou'rt an honest man,

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[Exit Mamillus.

SCENE III.

Camillo; this great Sir will yet stay longer.

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

--- predominant; and 'tis powerful: think it.

From east, west, north and fouth, be it concluded,

No barricado for a belly. Know't,
It will let in and out the enemy,

With bag and baggage: Many, .

When

When you caft out, it still came home.

Leo. Didst note it?

:

Cam. He would not stay at your petitions made..

His business more material

Les. Didst perceive it?

They're

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're here with me already, whip'ring round, Afde

Sicilia is a fo forth; 'tis far gone,
When I shall gust it laft. How came't, Camillo,

That he did stay?

Cam.

At the good Queen's entreaty.

Leo. At the Queen's be't; good thould be be pertinenti

But fo it is, it is not. Was this taken

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By any understanding pate but thine?
For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in
More than the common blocks; not noted,
But of the finer natures? by some severals
Of head-piete extraordinary? lower meffes
Perchance are to this business purblind? say.

ist.

Cam. Bufiness, my Lord? I think most understand

Bithynia stays here longer.

Leo. Ha? stays here longer. Ay, but why?
Cam. To fatisfie your Highness, and th' entreatles:

Of our most gracious miftitess.

Leo. Satisfie?

Th' entreaties of your mistress satisfie

L

Let that fuffise. I've trufted thee, Camillo,
With all the things nearest my heart, with all
My chamber-councels, wherein, priest-like, thou
Haft cleans'd my bofom; I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform'd but we have been

Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd
In that which feems fo..

Cam. Be it forbid, my Lord!

Leo. To bide upon't thou art not honeft, or,

If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward,
Which hockles honesty behind, restraining
From course requir'd; or elfe thou must be counted

A fervant grafted in my serious truft,

And therein negligent; or else a fool,

That feeft a game plaid home, the rich flake drawn,

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And

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