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Of this make no conclusion, left you say
Your Queen and I are devils. Yet go on,
Th’offences we have made you do, we'll answer,
If you firft fino'd with us, and that with us
You did continue fault; and that you lipt not
With any but with us.

Leo. Is he won yet?
Her. He'll stay, my Lord.
Leo. At my request he would not :
Hermione, my deareft, thou ne'er Spok't
To better purpose.

Her, Never ?
Leo. Never, but once.

Her. What? haye 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 soft 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 : 0, would her name were Grace !
But once before I spake to th' purpose ? when?
Nay, let me have't ; I long.

Leo. Why, that was when
Three crabbed months had lowr'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 bolom ;

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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 'were
The mort o'th deer ; * oh, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows-Manillusy.
Art thou my, boy?

Mami Ay, my good Lords

Lea, l'fecks ! Why, that's my bawcock ; what; has't smutch'd thynose They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat ; not neas, but cleanly, captain ;

[Wipessebe boy's face And yet the feer, the heifer, and the calf, Are all call'd neat: Still virginalling

[Observing Polixenes and Hermiones Upon his palmakow, now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf ?

Mam. Yes, if you will, my Lord..

Leo, Thou want't a rough pash, and the shoot that Shave, To be full like me. Yet they say we are Almost as like as eggs; women say so, Phat will say any thing ; but were they fake, As o'er-dy'd blacks, + as winds, as waters ; false As dice are to be with'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'it, my collop-can thy dam may't be a Imagination! thou doft tab to tb'center. Thou dost make possible, things not to be fo held, Communicat'it 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,

* A lefton upon the horn at the death of the deer.

+ A black dye being ufd in 100 great quantity dash not only make the cloth to rot upon which a is pus, but the cold it feil tu fade. and grow fully inach the SONRI


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

Poł. What means Sicilia ?
Her. He fomething seems unfettled.

Pol. How my Lord
What cheer? how is it with you, my bet brother?

Her. You feem to hold a brow of much distractions
Are you not mov'd, my Lord ?

Leo. No, in good carnest,
How sometimes nature will betsay its folly!
les tenderness ! and make it self a paftime
To harder boloms ! Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil
Twenty three years, and saw my self unbreech'a,
In my green velvet coat ; my dagger muzzled,
Left it should bite its matter, and so prove,
As ornaments oft dó, too dangerous ;
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
This squash, this gentleman ! Mine hone& friend,
Will you take eggs

for Mem. 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 exercise, 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 fort as December,
And with his varying childishness, cures in me
Thoughts that should thick my blood,

Leo. So tands this Squire
Officed with

me: we two will walk, my Lord,
And leave you to your graver feps, Hermione,
How thou lov'st us, thew 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,
We are yours i' tb' garden : Thall'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; Go to, go to

[ Afide, obferving Her, How she 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, 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 filh'd by his pext 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 despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Phyfick 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,

[Exit Mamillus,
Camillo ; this great Sir will yet stay longer.
Cam. You had much ado to make the anchor bold ;

predominant ; and 'tis powerful : think it.
Prom caft, weft, north and south, be it concluded,
No barricado fur a belly. Know't,
It will let in and out the enemy,
With bag and baggage : mtany,


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When you caft out, it kill came bome.

Leo. Didit note it?

Eam. He would not stay at your petitions made
His bufiness. more material

Leo. Didit perceive it?
They're here with me already , whispring round,
Sicilia is a fo forth; 'uis far gone,


When I fhall gust it lart. How came't, Eamillo,
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 foaking, will draw in
More than the common blocks ; not noted,
But of the finer natures by fome severals
Of head-piete extraordinary lower meffes
Perchance are to this businefs purblind? says,

Cam. Bufiness, my Lord, I think moft understand
Birbynia ftays here longer.

Leo. Hastays here longer. Ay, but why a

Cam. To satisfie: your Highness, and the entreaties;
Of our most gracious miftrek.

Leo. Satisfie?
Th’ entreaties of your miftreff * facisfie
Let that fuffise. I've trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the things neareft my Pieart, with all
My chamber-councels, wherein, priek-like, thoa
Haft cleans'd boy bosom ; I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been
Deceiva in thy integrity, deceiv’d
In that which seems fo..

Cam. Be it forbid, my Lord !
Leo. To bide upon't--thou art mot honeft, of,
I thou inclin't that way, thou art a coward,
Which hockles honefty behind, refraining
Brom courfé requird; or else thou must be counted
A servant grafted in my serious truit,
And therein negligent ; or elfe a fool,
That Seeft a ganse plaid home, the rich Aake drawn,


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