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SCENE I-Sicilia. An Antechamber in Leon-it is a gentleman of the greatest promise, that ever tes' palace. Enter Camillo and Archidanus.


IF you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.

Cam. I think, this coming summer, the king of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.

Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame

us, we will be justified in our loves: for, indeed, Cam. 'Beseech you,

Arch. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificencein so rare-I know not what to say.- -We will give you sleepy drinks; that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us.

Cam. You pay a great deal too dear, for what's given freely.

Arch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utter


Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities, and royal necessities, made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attornied, with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast 2 and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves! Arch. I think, there is not in the world either

(1) Nobly supplied by substitution of embassies. (2) Wide waste of country.

came into my note.

Cam. Ivery well agree with you in the hopes of him: it is a gallant child; one that, indeed, physics the subject,3 makes old hearts fresh: they, that went on crutches ere he was born, desire yet their life, to see him a man.

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

Arch. If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one.


SCENE II-The same. A room of state in the palace. Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Hermione, Mamillius, Camillo, and attendants.

Pol. Nine changes of the wat'ry star have been The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne Without a burden: 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 cipher, Yet standing in rich place, I multiply, With one we-thank-you, many thousands more That go before it. Stay your thanks a while; And pay them when you part.



Sir, that's to-morrow. I am 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. We are tougher, brother,


Than you can put us to't.
Leon. One seven-night

No longer stay. longer.

Very sooth, to-morro ". Leon. We'll part the time between's then: and in that

(3) Affords a cordial to the state. (4) Nipping.

I'll no gain-saying.
Press me not, 'beseech you, so;
There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'the

So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now,
Were there necessity in your request, although
'Twere needful I denied 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.

Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you. Her. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace, until

You had drawn oaths from him, not to stay. You, sir,
Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sure,
All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction
The by-gone day proclaim'd; say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.

Well said, Hermione.

Leon. 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 [To Polixenes.] I'll ad

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Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace!


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 prisoner,
Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees,
When you depart, and save your thanks. How say

My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread verily,
One of them you shall be.


Your guest then, madam: To be your prisoner, should import offending; Which is for me less easy to commit,

Than you to punish.


Not your gaoler then,

But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you
Of my lord's tricks, and yours, when you were

You were pretty lordings then.
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'the two?
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 rear'd

(1) Gests were the names of the stages where the king appointed to lie, during a royal progress. (2) Indeed. (3) Tick. (1) Flimsy.

(5) A diminutive of lords.

But once before I spoke to the purpose. When? Nay, let me have't; I long.


Why, that was when

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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 The mort o'the deer;8 O, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows.-Manillius, Art thou my boy? Ay, my good lord.

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