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Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i’the
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 reard : With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd, Hereditary ours.
Her. By this we gather,
Pol. O my most sacred lady,
Her. Grace to boot!
Leon. Is he won yet?
Leon. At my request, he would not.
Her. What? have I twice said well? when was't be
fore? I pr’ythee, tell me : Cram us with praise, and make us As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tongueless, Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages: You may ride us, With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal;My last good was, to entreat his stay; What was my first? it has an elder sister, Or I mistake you: 0, would her name were Grace ! But once before I spoke to the purpose: When? Nay, let me have't; I long.
Leon. Why, that was, when Three crabbed months had sourd themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, 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; The other, for some while a friend.
[Giving her hand to POLIXENES. Leon. Too hot, too hot:
[Aside. 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
Mam. Ay, my good lord.
[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, 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; false 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 villain ! Most dear'st! my collop !—Can thy dam ?--may't be? Affection ! thy intention stabs the center: Thou dost make possible, things not so held, Communicat’st with dreains;-(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;
Pol. What means Sicilia ?
Pol. How, my lord ?
Her. You look,
Leon. No, in good earnest.-
Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.
Pol. If at home, sir,
He makes a July's day short as December;
Leon. So stands this squire
Her. If you would seek us,
Leon. To your own bents dispose you : you'll be founu,
[ Aside. Observing Polixenes and Hermione. How she holds up the neb, the bill to him ! And arms her with the boldness of a wife To her allowing husband ! Gone already; Inch-thick, knee-deep; o'er head and ears a fork'd one.
[Exeunt PolixenES, HERMIONE, and Attendants.