Which is for me less easy to commit
Than you to punish.
HERMIONE
Not your gaoler 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.
POLIXENES
We were, fair queen,
Two lads that thought there was no more behind
But such a day tomorrow as to-day,
And to be boy eternal.
HERMIONE
Was not my lord the verier wag o’ the two?
POLIXENES
We were as twinn’d lambs that did frisk i’ the sun
And bleat the one at th’ other. What we chang’d
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream’d
That any did. Had we pursu’d 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.
HERMIONE
By this we gather
You have tripp’d since.
POLIXENES
O my most sacred lady,
Temptations have since then been born to ‘s! for
In those unfledg’d days was my wife a girl;
Your precious self had then not cross’d the eyes
Of my young playfellow.
HERMIONE
Grace to boot!
Of this make no conclusion, lest you say
Your queen and I are devils: yet, go on;
The offences we have made you do we’ll answer;
If you first sinn’d with us, and that with us
You did continue fault, and that you slipp’d not
With any but with us.
LEONTES
Is he won yet?
HERMIONE
He’ll stay, my lord.
LEONTES
At my request he would not.
Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok’st
To better purpose.
HERMIONE
Never?
LEONTES
Never but once.
HERMIONE
What! have 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 the goal:—
My last good deed was to entreat his stay;
What was my first? it 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 crabbèd 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
[Aside.] Too hot, 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, 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.—
[Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE]
Still virginalling
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