Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas, the curate; do it quickly: I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. [Erit MARIA.

Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in 't; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not fat enough to become the function well; nor lean enough to be thought a good student: but to be said an honest man and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter.

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and MARIA. Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson. Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of king Gorboduc, "That, that is, is:" so I, being master parson, am master parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is?

Sir To. To him, Sir Topas.

Cio. What, hoa, I say,-peace in this prison!

Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. Mal. [In an inner chamber.] Who calls there?

Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic.

Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady.

Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? talkest thou nothing but of ladies?

Sir To. Well said, master parson.

Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness.

Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Sathan! I call thee by the most modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy: say'st thou that house is dark?

Mal. As hell, Sir Topas.

Co. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the south-north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction?

Mal. I am not mad, Sir Topas; I say to you, this house is dark.

Clo. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.

Mal. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question.

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild-fowl?

Mal. That the soul of our grandam might haply in

habit a bird.

Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion?

Mal. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.

Clo. Fare thee well.

Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandain. Fare thee well. Mal. Sir Topas! Sir Topas!-

Sir To. My most exquisite Sir Topas!
Clo. Nay, I am for all waters.

Mar. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown; he sees thee not.

Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he were; for I am now so far in offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. [Exeunt Sir TOBY and MARIA. Clo. [Singing.] "Hey Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does."

Mal. Fool,-

Mal. Ay, good fool.

Clo. Alas, Sir, how fell you beside your five wits? Mal. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.

Clo. But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool.

Mal. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits.

Clo. Advise you what you say; the minister is here. -Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble.

Mal. Sir Topas,—

Co. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.-Who, I, Sir? not I, Sir. God b' wi' you, good Sir Topas.Marry, amen.-1 will, Sir, I will.

Mal. Fool, fool, fool, I say,

Clo. Alas, Sir, be patient. What say you, Sir? I am shent for speaking to you.

Mal. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria.

Clo. Well-a-day,-that you were, Sir!

Mal. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, and light; and convey what I will set down to my lady; it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of

letter did.

Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't:
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then?
I could not find him at the Elephant:
Yet there he was: and there I found this credit,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
His counsel now might do me golden service:
For though my soul disputes well with my sense,
That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me
To any other trust, but that I am mad,
Or else the lady's mad; yet if 'twere so,

She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take and give back affairs, and their despatch,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing,
As I perceive she does: there's something in 't
That is deceivable. But here comes the lady.

Enter OLIVIA and a Priest.

Oli. Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well,
Now go with me and with this holy man
Into the chantry by: there, before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,

Plight me the full assurance of your faith;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace: he shall conceal it,
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note;
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth.-What do you say?

Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you;
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
Oli. Then lead the way, good father;-and the heavens

so shine,

That they may fairly note this act of mine!

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-The Street before OLIVIA'S House.

Enter Clown and FABIAN.

Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another request. Fab. Anything.

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.

Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again.

Enter Duke, VIOLA, and Attendants. Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends? Clo. Ay, Sir; we are some of her trappings.

Duke. I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow ?

Clo. Truly. Sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.

Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. Clo. No, Sir, the worse.

Duke. How can that be?

Clo. Marry, Sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my foes, Sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused; so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why, then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.

Duke. Why, this is excellent.

Clo. By my troth, Sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends.

Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me; there's gold.

Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, Sir, I would you could make it another.

Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, Sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.

Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a doubledealer; there's another.

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all: the triplex, Sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of St Bennet, Sir, may put you in mind; One, two, three.

Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw: if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.

Clo. Marry, Sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, Sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: but, as you say, Sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit Clown.

Enter ANTONIO and Officers.

Vio. Here comes the man, Sir, that did rescue me. Duke. That face of his I do remember well; Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war:

A bawbling vessel was he captain of,

For shallow draught and bulk unprizable;

With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
That very envy, and the tongue of loss,

Cried fame and honour on him.-What's the matter? 10f. Orsino, this is that Antonio

That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy;
And this is he that did the Tiger board,
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg:
Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.

Vio. He did me kindness, Sir; drew on my side;
But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me,
I know not what 'twas, but distraction.

Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief!
What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies
Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,
Hast made thine enemies?

Ant. Orsino, noble Sir,

Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me;
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate,

Though, I confess, on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ingrateful boy there, by your side,
From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth
Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was:
His life I gave him, and did thereto add
My love, without retention or restraint,
All his in dedication: for his sake
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,

Into the danger of this adverse town;
Drew to defend him when he was beset;
Where, being apprehended, his false cunning
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty-years-removed thing,
While one would wink; denied me mine own purse,
Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.

Vio. How can this be?

Duke. When came he to this town?

Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months before, (No interim, not a minute's vacancy,)

Both day and night did we keep company.

Enter OLIVIA and Attendants.

Duke. Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on earth.

But for thee, fellow,-fellow, thy words are madness:
Three months this youth hath tended upon me;
But more of that anon.-Take him aside.

Oli. What would my lord, but that he may not
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable?-- [have,-
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
Vio. Madam?

Duke. Gracious Olivia,

Oli. What do you say, Cesario?-Good my lord,— Vio. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music.

Duke. Still so cruel?

Oli. Still so constant, lord.

Duke. What! to perverseness? you uncivil lady,
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars

My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out,
That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do?

[him.
Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall become
Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death,
Kill what I love? a savage jealousy,

That sometimes savours nobly.-But hear me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still;
But this, your minion, whom I know you love,
And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,

Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.-
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief:
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,

To spite a raven's heart within a dove.
Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

Oli. Where goes Cesario? Vio. After him I love,

[Going.

[Following.

More than I love these eyes, more than my life;
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
If I do feign, you witnesses above,

Punish my life, for tainting of my love!
Oli. Ah me, detested! how am I beguiled!
Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?
Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long?-
Call forth the holy father.
[Exit an Attendant.
[TO VIOLA.

Duke. Come away.
Oli. Whither, my lord?-Cesario, husband, stay.
Duke. Husband?

Oli. Ay, husband; can he that deny?
Duke. Her husband, sirrah?

Vio. No, my lord, not I.

Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear
That makes thee strangle thy propriety:
Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up;

Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st.-0, welcome, father!
Re-enter Attendant and Priest.
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold (though lately we intended
To keep in darkness, what occasion now
Reveals before 'tis ripe) what thou dost know
Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me.
Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,

Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact

Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave,

I have travell'd but two hours.

Sir And. He has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of Gol, your help: I had rather than forty pound I were at home.

Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew?

Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate.

Duke. My gentleman, Cesario?

Sr And. Od's lifelings, here he is.-You broke my head for nothing: and that that I did, I was set on to do 't by Sir Toby.

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me without cause; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, drunk, led by the Clown. Here comes Sir Toby halting,-you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did.

Duke. How now, gentleman? how is't with you? Sir To. That's all one; he has hurt me, and there's the end on 't.--Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot?

Clo. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i' the morning.

Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure, or a pavin, I hate a drunken rogue.

Oli. Away with him: who hath made this havoc with them?

Sir And. I'll help thee, Sir Toby, because we'll be dress'd together.

Sir To. Will you help?--an ass-head, and a coxcomb, and a knave! a thin faced knave, a guil!

Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to. [Exeunt Clown, Sir TOBY, and Sir ANDREW. Enter SEBASTIAN.

Seb. I am sorry, Madam, I have hurt your kinsman;
But, had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and
By that I do perceive it hath offended you;
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.

Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and
A natural perspective, that is, and is not.
Seb. Antonio! O my dear Antonio!

How have the hours rack'd and tortured me,
Since I have lost thee!

Ant. Sebastian are you?

Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio?

two per[sons;

Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished, indeed, his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years. Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both, But this my masculine usurp'd attire, Do not embrace me, till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump, That I am Viola: which to confirm,

I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my ma'den weeds; by whose gentle help
I was preserved, to serve this noble count:
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook:

[TO OLIVIA

But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to a maid;
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived,
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
Duke. Be not amazed; right noble is his blood.-
If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,

I shall have share in this most happy wreck:
Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times, [To VIOLA.
Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.

Vio. And all those sayings will I overswear;
And all those swearings keep as true in soul,
As doth that orbed continent the fire
That severs day from night.

Duke. Give me thy hand;

And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.

Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on shore, Hath my maid's garments: he, upon some action, Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit,

A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.

Oli. He shall enlarge him :-Fetch Malvolio hither:And yet, alas! now I remember me,

They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.
Re-enter Clown, with a letter.
A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.-
How does he, sirrah?

Clo. Truly, Madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end as well as a man in his case may do; he has here writ a letter to you; I should have given it to you to-day morning; but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered.

Oli. Open it, and read it.

Clo. Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman:-"By the Lord, Madam,"— Oli. How now! art thou mad?

Clo. No, Madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow

vox.

Oli. Pr'ythee, read i' thy right wits.

Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give

ear.

Oli. Read it you, sirrah.

[TO FABIAN.

Fab. [Reads. By the Lord, Madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury.

The madly-used MALVOLIO." Oli. Did he write this?

Clo. Ay, Madam.

Duke. This savours not much of distraction.
Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.

[Exit FABIAN.
My lord, so please you, these things further thought on,
To think me as well a sister as a wife,
One day shall crown the alliance on 't, so please you,
Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.→→ [TO VIOLA.] Your master quits you; and, for your ser

vice done him,

So much against the mettle of your sex,

So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call'd me master for so long, Here is my hand; you shall from this time be Your master's mistress.

Oli. A sister?-you are she.

Re-enter FABIAN with MALVOLIO.

Duke. Is this the madman?

Oli. Ay, my lord, this same.

How now, Malvolio?

Mal. Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong.

Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no.

Mal. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter:
You must not now deny it is your hand.--
Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase;
Or say 'tis not your seal, nor your invention:
You can say none of this: well, grant it then,
And tell me, in the modesty of honour,

Why you have given me such clear lights of favour;
Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow stockings, and to frown
Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people:
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck and gull
That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why.

Oli Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Though, I confess, much like the character:
But, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was she

First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling,
And in such forms which here were presupposed
Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee, be content:
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee;
But when we know the grounds and authors of it,
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Of thine own cause.

Fab. Good Madam, hear me speak;
And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come,
Taint the condition of this present hour,

Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confess, myself and Toby
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
We had conceived against him: Maria writ
The letter at Sir Toby's great importance:
In recompense whereof, he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd,
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge;
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd,
That have on both sides pass'd.

Oli. Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!

Clo. Why, "some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them." I was one, Sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, Sir; but that's all one." By the Lord, fool, I am not mad;"but do you remember? "Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagg'd:" and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. Mal. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.

[Exit.

Oli. He hath been most notoriously abused. Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace:He hath not told us of the captain yet; When that is known, and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls.-Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence.-Cesario, come; For so you shall be, while you are a man; But, when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen.

SONG.

[Exeunt.

Clo. "When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

"But when I came to man's estate,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 'Gainst knave and thief men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day.

"But when I came, alas! to wive,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.
"But when I came unto my bed,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still had drunken head,
For the rain it raineth every day.

"A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,-
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day."
[Exit.

have been royally attorneyed, with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast: 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 malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius; it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note.

Cam. I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: it is a gallant child; one that, indeed, physics the subject, 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 five on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt.

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.

Leon. Stay your thanks a while;

And pay them when you part.

Pol. 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.

Leon. We are tougher, brother,

Than you can put us to 't.

Pol. No longer stay.

Leon. One seven-night longer.

Pol. Very sooth, to-morrow.

Leon. We'll part the time between's then: and in that

I'll no gainsaying.

Pol. Press me not, 'beseech you, so;

There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world, 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.

Leon. Well said, Hermione.

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 adventure
The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
You take my lord, I'll give him my commission,
To let him there a month behind the gest
Prefix'd for his parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,
I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind
What lady she her lord.-You'll stay?
Pol. No, Madam.

Her. Nay, but you will?

Her. Verily!

Pol. I may not, verily.

You put me off with limber vows: but I,

Which is for me less easy to commit,

Than you to punish.

Her. Not your jailer then,

But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you
Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys;
You were pretty lordings then.

Pol. 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 changed,
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
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven
Boldly, "Not guilty;" the imposition clear'd,
Hereditary ours.

Her. By this we gather, You have tripp'd since.

Pol. O my most sacred lady,

Temptations have since then been born to us: for
In those unfledged days was my wife a girl ;
Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young playfellow.

Her. Grace to boot!

[before!

Her. What have I twice said well? when was't 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 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."

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 practised smiles,
As in a looking-glass;-and then to sigh, as 'twere
The mort o' the deer; 0, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows.-Mamillius,
Art thou my boy?

Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd thy
They say it's 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 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 To be full like me:-yet they say we are [that I have, Almost as like as eggs; women say so,

That will say anything: but were they false