HERMIONE.
He something seems unsettled.
POLIXENES.
How, my lord?
What cheer? How is’t with you, best brother?
HERMIONE.
You look
As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you mov’d, my lord?
LEONTES.
No, in good earnest.
How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Its tenderness, 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!
How she holds up the neb, the bill to him!
And arms her with the boldness of a wife
To her allowing husband!