ness, 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 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!

[Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants.]

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;
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 hath revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physic for't there's none;
It is a