The Winters Tale | Page 5

has an elder sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace! But once before I spoke to the purpose--when? Nay, let me have't; I long.
LEONTES. Why, that was when Three crabbed months had sour'd 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.'
HERMIONE. It is Grace indeed. Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice; The one for ever earn'd a royal husband; Th' other for some while a friend.
[Giving her hand to POLIXENES.]
LEONTES. 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: 't 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: O, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows,--Mamillius, Art thou my boy?
MAMILLIUS. Ay, my good lord.
LEONTES. I' fecks! Why, that's my bawcock. What! hast smutch'd thy nose?-- They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat;--not neat, but cleanly, captain: And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf, Are all call'd neat.--Still virginalling [Observing POL. and HER.] Upon his palm?--How now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf?
MAMILLIUS. Yes, if you will, my lord.
LEONTES. 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 anything: but were they false As o'er-dy'd 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 centre: Thou dost make possible things not so held, Communicat'st with dreams;--how can this be?-- With what's unreal thou co-active art, And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent Thou mayst 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.
POLIXENES. What means Sicilia?
HERMIONE. He something seems unsettled.
POLIXENES. How! my lord! What cheer? How is't with you, best brother?
HERMIONE. You look As if you held a brow of much distraction: Are you mov'd, my lord?
LEONTES. No, in good earnest.-- How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms! 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?
MAMILLIUS. No, my lord, I'll fight.
LEONTES. You will? Why, happy man be 's dole!--My brother, Are you so fond of your young prince as we Do seem to be of ours?
POLIXENES. If at home, sir, 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.
LEONTES. 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.
HERMIONE. If you would seek us, We are yours i' the garden. Shall's attend you there?
LEONTES. To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found, Be you beneath the sky. [Aside.] I am angling now. Though you perceive me not how I give line. Go to, go to! [Observing POL. and HER.] 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!
[Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants.]
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; And many a man there is, even at this present, Now while