Which is for me less easy to commit

Than you to punish.

HERMIONE

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?

POLIXENES

We were, fair Queen,

Two lads that thought there was no more behind

But such a day tomorrow as today,

And to be boy eternal.

HERMIONE Was not my lord

The verier wag o’th’ two?

POLIXENES

We were as twinned lambs that did frisk i‘th’ sun,

And bleat the one at th’other. What we changed

Was innocence for innocence. We knew not

The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dreamed

That any did. Had we pursued that life,

And our weak spirits ne‘er been higher reared

With stronger blood, we should have answered

heaven

Boldly, ‘Not guilty’, the imposition cleared

Hereditary ours.

HERMIONE

By this we gather

You have tripped since.

POLIXENES

O my most sacred lady,

Temptations have since then been born to’s; for

In those unfledged days was my wife a girl.

Your precious self had then not crossed 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.

Th’offences we have made you do we’ll answer,

If you first sinned with us, and that with us

You did continue fault, and that you slipped 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 prithee 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 th’ 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 Gracel

But once before I spoke to th’ purpose? When?

Nay, let me have’t. I long.

LEONTES

Why, that was when

Three crabbed months had soured 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

’Tis grace indeed.

Why lo you now; I have spoke to th’ purpose twice.

The one for ever earned a royal husband;

Th’other, for some while a friend.

⌈She gives her hand to Polixenes.⌉

They stand aside

LEONTES (aside)

Too hot, too hot:

To mingle friendship farre 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 practised smiles

As in a looking-glass; and then to sigh, as ‘twere

The mort o’th’ 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 smutched 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 called neat.—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-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false

As dice are to be wished 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 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 hard’ning of my brows.

POLIXENES

What means Sicilia?

HERMIONE

He something seems unsettled.

POLIXENES

How, my lord!

LEONTES

What cheer? How is’t with you, best brother?

HERMIONE

You look

As if you held a brow of much distraction.

Are you moved, my lord?

LEONTES

No, in good earnest.

How sometimes nature will betray its folly,

Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime