Almost as like as eggs; women say so,

That will say any thing: But were they false
As o'er-died blacks 1°, 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 centre:

Thou dost make possible, things not so held,
Communicat'st with dreams;-(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;
(And that beyond commission; and I find it,)
And that to the infection of my brains,

And hardening of my brows.

Pol.

Her. He something seems unsettled.

Pol.

What means Sicilia?

How, my lord?

You look,

What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?

Her.

As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you moy'd, my lord?

Leon.

No, in good earnest.— How sometimes nature will betray its folly,

Its tenderness; and make itself a pastime
To harder bosoms! [Aside.]-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,
Lest 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 money 12?

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

Leon. You will? why, happy man be his dole!-
My brother,

He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter:
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
He makes a July's day short as December;
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.

Leor.
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, show 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.

We

If you would seek us,

We are yours i'the garden: Shall's attend you there? Leon. To your own bents dispose you: you'll be

found,

Be you beneath the sky:-I am angling now,

Though you perceive me not how I give line.
Go to, go to!

[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. 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;

And many a man there is, even at this present,
Now, while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
That little thinks she has been sluic'd in his absence,
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, think it,
From east, west, north and south: Be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly; know it;

It will let in and out the enemy,

With bag and baggage: many a thousand of us

་

Have the disease, and feel't not.-How now, boy?

Mam. I am like you, they say.

Leon.

What! Camillo there?

Why, that's some comfort.

Cam. Ay, my good lord.

Leon. Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.

[Exit Mamillius.

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.

Leon.

Didst note it?

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

Leon.

Didst perceive it?

They're here with me already; whispering, round

ing 13.

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.

Leon. 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 understand Bohemia stays here longer.

Leon.

Ha?

Cam.

Leon. Ay, but why?

Stays here longer.

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

Leon.

Satisfy

The entreaties of your mistress?—satisfy?—
Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well
My chamber-councils: wherein, priest-like, thou
Hast cleans'd my bosom; I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform'd; but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd

In that which seems so.

Cam.

Be it forbid, my lord!

Leon. 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 drawn, And tak'st 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,
Sometime puts forth: In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful-negligent,