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l' fecks ?* | To be full like me :—yet, they say we are Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd Almost as like as eggs; women say so, thy nose ?
That will say anything : but were they false They say, it is a copy out of mine. Come, As o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters ;-false captain,
As dice are to be wish’d by one that fixes We must be neat ;—not neat, but cleanly, captain : No bourn 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,
To say this boy were like me.-Come, sir page, Are all call'd neat.—Still virginalling
Look on me with your welkin eye:" sweet [Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE.
villain! Upon his palm ? (i)—How now, you wanton Most dear’st ! my collop ?—Can thy dam ?
may't be Art thou my calf ?
Affection thy intention stabs the centre ? Mam.
Yes, if you will, my lord. Thou dost make possible things not so held ? LEON. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the Communicat’st with dreams?—How! can this shoots that I have,
a l' fecks?] A popular corruption of “in faith," it is supposed. b – a rough pash,-) That is, a tufted head or brow.
c A8 o'er-dyed blacks,-) Absurdly changed by Mr. Collier's annotator to,“ our dead blacks." "Blacks" was the common term for mourning habiliments formerly; and by “o'er-dyed blacks" were meant such garments as had become rotten and faded by frequent immersion in the dve. If any change in the
text be admissible, we should read, "oft dyed blacks."
"I do not think but sorrow makes her look
Like to an oft dy'd garment :"
- Can thy dam 1-may't be
Thou mayst co-join with something ; &c.] " Affection” here means imagination; "intention " signifies in. tencion or intensity; and the allusion, though the commentators have all missed it, is plainly to that mysterious principle of nature by which a parent's features are transmitted to the offspring. Pursuing the train of thought induced by the acknowledged likeness between the boy and himself, Leontes asks, “Can it be possible a mother's vehement imagination should penetrate even to the womb, and there imprint upon the embryo what stamp she chooses? Such apprehensive fantasy, then," he goes on to say, " we may believe will readily co-join with something tangible, and it does," &c. &c.
And that beyond commission;] “Commission” here, as in a former passage of the scene, “I'll give him my commission," means warrant, permission, authority.
How, my lord! What cheer? how is 't with you, best brother ?] " In the folio, the words. What cheer? how is 't with you, best brother?' have the prefix 'Leo.;' Hanmer assigned them tu Polixenes. Mr. Collier and Mr. Knight restore them- very injudiciously, I think-to Leontes. (I suspect that the true reading here is,
Ho, my lord ! What cheer? how is 't with you!' &c. for Leontes is standing apart from Polixenes and Hermione; and
how,' as I have already noticed, was frequently the old spelling of ho.'")-DYCE.
d - methought I did recoil-1 Mr Collier, upon the strength of a MS. annotation in Lord Ellesmere's copy of the first folio, prints "my thoughts I did recoil ;” but “methoughts" of the original was often used for "methought." So, in the folio text of “Richard III." Act I, Sc. 4,
“Me thoughts that I had broken from the tower," &c. And in the same scene, "Me thoughts I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes." &c
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, Or I am much deceiv’d, cuckolds ere now;
And many a man there is, even at this present, How like, methought, I then was to this kernel (Now, while I speak this) holds his wife by th' This squash," this gentleman :-Mine honest
That little thinks she has been sluic'd in's absence, Will you take eggs for money ?
And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.
Sir Smile, his neighbour : nay, there's comfort in't LEON. You will ? why, happy man be 's | Whiles other men have gates, and those gates dele !—My brother,
open'd, Are you so fond of your young prince, as we As mine, against their will. Should all despair Do seem to be of ours ?
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Pol. If at home, sir,
Would hang themselves. Physic for't there's none; He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter : It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy; Where 't is predominant; and 't is powerful, My parasite, mine soldier, statesman, all :
think it, He makes a July's day short as December ; From east, west, north, and south: be it concluded, And with his varying childness cures in me No barricado for a belly; know't, Thoughts that would thick my blood.
It will let in and out the enemy, LEON.
So stands this squire With bag and baggage: many a thousand on's Offic'd with me. We two will walk, my lord, Have the disease, and feel't not.—How now, boy! And leave you to your graver steps.--Hermione, Mam. I am like you, they say. How thou lov'st us, show in our brother's welcome; LEON.
Why, that's some comfort.Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap :
What, Camillo there? Next to thyself and my young rover, he's
Cam. Ay, my good lord. Apparent to my heart.
LEON. Go play, Mamillius ; thou’rt an honest HER. If you would seek us,
[Exit MAMILLIUS. We are yours i’ the garden : shall's attend you | Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. there?
CAM. You had much ado to make his anchor LEON. To your own bents dispose you : you'll
hold : be found,
When you cast out, it still came home. Be you beneath the sky.—[Aside.] I am angling LEON.
Didst note it? now,
Cam. He would not stay at your petitions ; made Though you perceive me not how I give line. His business more material. Go to, go to !
Didst perceive it ?[Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE. [Aside.] They're here with mes already; whisHow she holds up the neb, the bill to him !
p'ring, rounding, And arms her with the boldness of a wife
Sicilia is a--80-forth : 'Tis far gone, To her allowing husband !! Gone already ! - When I shall gust it last. How came't, Camillo, [Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and That he did stay? Attendants.
At the good queen's entreaty. Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'do Leon. At the queen's be't: good should be one.
pertinent; Go play, boy, play ;—thy mother plays, and I But so it is, it is not. Was this taken Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue By any understanding pate but thine ? Will hiss me to iny grave; contempt and clamour For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in Will be my knell.—Go play, boy, play.—There More than the common blocks :-not noted, is't, have been,
But of the finer natures ? by some severals
f I am like you, they say.) So the second folio; the first reads, "I am like you say."
a This squash,-) A“squash" is an immature pea-pod. The word occurs again in “Twelfth Night," Act I. Sc. 5,
"As a squash before it is a peascod," and in "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Act III. Sc. I.
b Will you take eggs for money ?] This was a proverbial phrase, implying, Will you suffer yourself to be cajoled ?
C Apparent to my heart.) Nearest to my affections,
d to her allowing husband /] That is, probably, her allowed, her lawful husband.
- a fork'd one.) A horned one. So, in “Othello," Act III. Sc. 3,
“ Even then this forked plague is fated to us
When we do quicken.'
& They're here with me already; whisp'ring, &c.] That is, say the modern editors, “Not Polixenes and Hermione, but casual observers"! or "They are aware of my condition "! Strange forgetfulness of a common form of speech. By “They're here with me already," the King means the people are already mocking me with this opprobrious gesture (the cuckold's emblem with their fingers), and whispering, &c. So in "Coriolanus," Act III. Sc, 2,
11 Go to them. with this bonnet in thy band:
And thus far having stretch'd it, (here be with them). See also note (a), p. 161 of the present Volume.
h But so it is, it is not.) But as you apply the word, it is not pertinent.
Of head-piece extraordinary ? lower messes | Is thicker than a cuckold's horn) or heard,
Resides not in that man that does not think it) Bohemia stays here longer.
My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess,
(Or else be impudently negative, CAM.
Stays here longer. To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought) then say LEON. Ay, but why?
My wife's a hobbyhorse ; * deserves a name Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the en- As rank as any flax-wench that puts to treaties
Before her troth-plight : say't, and justify't. Of our most gracious mistress.
Cam. I would not be a stander-by to hear LEON.
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without The entreaties of your mistress ? — satisfy !-- My present vengeance taken : 'shrew my heart, Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, You never spoke what did become you less With all the near’st things to my heart, as well Than this ; which to reiterate were sin My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou As deep as that, though true. Hast cleans'd my bosom,- I from thee departed LEON.
Is whispering nothing ? Thy penitent reform’d: but we have been
Is leaning cheek to cheek ? is meeting noses ? Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career In that which seems so.
Of laughter with a sigh? ( a note infallible | CAM.
Be it forbid, my lord ! Of breaking honesty) horsing foot on foot ? LEON. To bide upon't b—thou art not honest: or, Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift? If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward, Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight? and all eyes Which hoxes e honesty behind, restraining
Blind with the pin and web,' but theirs, theirs only, From course requir'd; or else thou must be counted That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? A servant grafted in my serious trust,
Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; And therein negligent; or else a fool, [drawn, The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing; That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake My wife is nothing ; nor nothing have these And tak’st it all for jest.
My gracious lord, If this be nothing. I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful ;
Good my lord, be cur'd In every one of these no man is free,
Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes; But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
For 't is most dangerous. Among the infinite doings of the world,
Say it be; 'tis true. Sometimes puts forth. In your affairs, my lord, | Cam. No, no, my lord. If ever I were wilful-negligent,
It is ; you lie, you lie ! It was my folly ; if industriously
I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave; Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful Or else a hovering temporizer, that To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, Whereof the execution did cry out
Inclining to them both. Were my wife's liver Against the non-performance, 't was a fear
Infected as her life, she would not live
Who does infect her ? Is never free of. But, beseech your grace,
LEON. Why, he that wears her like her medal, Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
hanging By its own visage : if I then deny it,
About his neck, Bohemia : who—if I T is none of mine.
Had servants true about me, that bare eyes LEON.
Have not you seen, Camillo, To see alike mine honour as their profits, (But that's past doubt,—you have, or your eye Their own particular thrifts, they would do that glass
Which should undo more doing : ay, and thou,
A lower megges_) Meaning inferior persons : such as sat at meals below the salt.
- To bide upon't-) This expression appears to mean, as Mr. Dyce has shown by examples,-My abiding opinion is.
(*) Old text, Holy-Horse. Winter's Tale" was one of the poet's latest productions. See note (3), p. 330, Vol. I.
C - hoxes-) To hox or hough is to hamstring.
d-its-) The comparatively frequent use of the impersonal "its," (though, for the most part, with the apostrophe, it's,) in this piece, while it is found but rarely in any of the other plays; in many, not at all; may be taken as an indication that " The
o – that does not think it-] The lection of the second folio, at least in some copies of that edition; the first has," -- that do's not thinke," &c.
f - the pin and web,-) Has before been explained to mean the disorder of the sight called a cataract.
His cupbearer,—whom I from meaner form | All that are his so too.-To do this deed, Have bench'd, and reard to worship ; who mayst | Promotion follows: if I could find example see
Of thousands that had struck anointed kings Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven, | And flourish'd after, I'd not do't; but since How I am gallèd,-mightst bespice a .cup, Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, To give mine enemy a lasting wink;
Let villainy itself forswear't. I must Which draught to me were cordial.
Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain CAM.
Sir, my lord, a | To me a break-neck. Happy star reign now !
This is strange ! methinks I have lov’d thee,
My favour here begins to warp. Not speak ?LEON. Make that thy question, and go rot! Good day, Camillo. Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,
Hail, most royal sir ! To appoint myself in this vexation ? sully
Pol. What is the news i' the court ? The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
None rare, my lord. Which to preserve is sleep; which being spotted, Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps ?
As he had lost some province, and a region Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son, Lor'd as he loves himself: even now I met him Who I do think is mine, and love as mine,
With customary compliment; when he, Without ripe moving to't?—Would I do this? Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling Could man so blench ?
A lip of much contempt, speeds from me; and CAM.
I must believe you, sir ; So leaves me to consider what is breeding I do; and will fetch off Bohemia fort;
That changes thus his manners. Provided that, when he's remov'd, your highness Cam. I dare not know, my lord. Will take again your queen as yours at first,
Pol. How ! dare not : do not ? Do you know, Even for your son's sake ; and thereby for sealing
and dare not The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts ; Known and allied to yours.
For to yourself, what you do know, you must LEON.
Thou dost advise me, And cannot say you dare not. Good Camillo, Even so as I mine own course have set down: Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror, I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.
Which shows me mine chang'd too; for I must be CAM. My lord,
A party in this alteration, finding Go then ; and with a countenance as clear
Myself thus alter'd with it. As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia, Cam.
There is a sickness And with your queen. I am his cupbearer ; Which puts some of us in distemper, but If from me he have wholesome beverage,
I cannot name the disease, and it is caught Account me not your servant.
Of you that yet are well.
This is all ;
How! caught of me?
I have look'd on thousands who have sped the CAM. I'll do't, my lord.
better LEON. I will seem friendly, as thou hast ad- | By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillovis'd me.(3)
[Exit. As you are certainly a gentleman ; thereto Cam. O miserable lady !-But, for me,
Clerk-like experienc'd, which no less adorns What case stand I in ? I must be the poisoner Our gentry than our parents' noble names, Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do't In whose successd we are gentle, I beseech you, Is the obedience to a master ; one,
If you know aught which does behove my knowWho, in rebellion with himself, will have
a Sir, my lord,-) With his usual ignorance of Shakespearian phraseology, Mr. Collier's ever-meddling annotator, both here and in Act III. Sc. 1, where Perdita says, "Sir, my gracious lord," &c., for "Sir," reads "Sure." And Mr. Collier, mindless of Paulina's “Sir, my liege, your eye hath too much youth," &c. in Act. V. Sc. I, of this very play; of Prospero's, -"Sir, my liege, do not infest your mind," &c.; of Hamlet's, -"Sir, my good friend," &c., chooses to adopt the substitution, and tells us, “Sure" is "evidently the true text"!
b I have lov'd thee. These words, though forming a part of Camillo's speech in the old copies, are sometimes assigned to Leontes in modern editions.
For to yourself, what you do know, you must
And cannot say you dare not.) That is,-For what you know, you must not and cannot say you dare not tell yourself.
d In whose success we are gentle,–] By succession from whom we derive gentility.