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'Twere needful I denyd it. My affairs
Leo. Tongue-cy'd, our Queen? speak you.
Her. I had thought, Sir, to've held my peace, until You ’ad drawn oaths from him not to stay : you, Siren 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.
Leo. Well said, Hermione.
Her. To tell, he longs to see hiy foni, were frong.
Pol. No, madam.
bebind the gest Prescrib'd for's parting :) I have not ventur’d to alter the text, tho', I freely own, I can neither trace, nor underfand, the phrase, I have fufpected, that the poet wrote ,
behind the just Prescrib'd für's farting. i e. the just, precise, time; the instant; (where time is likewise under itood) by an Elleipfis practis'd in-all tongues. It is familiar with us to lay, l’li do jucb a tbing just nowy. And in tbe same manner the french úse their adverb juftiment (eo ipfo tempore) precisement, a point
Should yet say, "Sir, no going : verily,
Poi. Your guest then, madam:
Her. Not your goaler then,
kind hostess; come, I'll question yeu Of my Lord's tricks, and yours, when you were boys : You were pretty lordings ihen?
Pol. We were, fair Queen,
Her. Was not my Lord
Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did Frisk i'th'sun, And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd, Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing ;. no, nor dream'd, That any did : had we pursu'd that life, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd With Atronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven Boldly, Not guilty; th' imposition clear'd, (3) Hereditary ours.
Her. By this we gathers You have tript fince:
Pol. O my moft facred Lady, Temptations have fince then been born to's: for (3)
il' imposition clear'd, Hereditary ours.] i. e. feiting alide ariginal fin: bating that-im.. position from the offence of our first parenis, we miglit have body protested our innocence to heaven, againit any guilt commiiled by Qurfelvess
In those unfledg’d days was my wife a girl;
Her. Grace to boot !-
Leo. Is he won yet?
1.eo. At my requeft he would not : Hermione; my dearest, thou ne'er spok'st To better purpose.
Her. What? have I twice said well? when was't before!
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 intreat his stay; What was my first, it has an elder fiiter, Or I millake you; O, would her name were Grace." But once before I spake to th' purpose! when ? Nay, let me hav'; Llong.
Leo. Why, that was when Three crabbed months had fower'd themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, And clepe thyself my love; then didst thou utter, “ I am vours forever."
Her. 'Tis grace, indeed. Why, lo you now; I've spoke to th' purpose twice; The one tor ever earn'd a royal husband; Th’other, for some while a friend. Leo. Too hot, too hot
[Afidea To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordis on me my heart dances;
Mam. Ay, my good Lord.
Leon. I' fecks ! Why, that's my bawcock; what? haft smutch'd thy nofe? They fay, 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 Polixenes and Hermione.. Upon his palm ? -how now, you wanton.calf! . Art thou
calf? Mam. Yes, if you will, my Lord..
Leo. Thou want'ft. a rough path, and the shoots that I To be full like me.. Yet they say, we are [haves. Almost as like as eggs; women say so, That will say any thing ; -but were they false, As o'er-dy'd blacks, as winds, as waters ; false As dice are to be wish’d, by one that fixes No bourne 'twixt his and mine ; yet were it true To say, this boy were like me. Look on me with your welkin-eye, sweet villain. Most dear'ft, my collop--can thy dam?-may't be Imagination ! thou doft ftab to th'center.. Thou dost make poslible things not be so held, Communicatft with dreams (how can this be ?) With what's unreal, thou coactive art, And fellow't nothing. Then 'tis very credent,
(4) The mort o’tb’deer.) To blow a mort, is a hunting phrase, figo. nifying, to found a particular air, callid a mort, to give notice that the deer, which was hunted, is run down, and killing, or killid,
Come, Sir page,
Thou may'st co-join with something, and thou doft,
Pol. What means Sicilia ?
my Lord ?
Man. No, my Lord, I'll fight.
Leo. You will! why, happy man be's dole. My brothers Are
you fo fond of your young Prince, as we, Do seem to be of ours ?
Pol. If at home, Sir,
Lea. So stands this Squire