Mam.

Yes, if you will, my lord.

Leon. 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 any thing: but were they false
As our dead blacks', as wind, as waters; false
As dice are to be wish'd 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 be1?

66

1 Thou want'st a rough PASH, and the shoots that I have,] Holloway, in his "General Dictionary of Provincialisms," 8vo, 1838, informs us that " pash" in Cheshire signifies the brains, and that mad pash" is the same as mad brains. "Pash" may be taken in this place for the head, for which Malone states it is used in Scotland. The meaning of Leontes is therefore quite evident: by the "rough pash" we are to understand the hair on the forehead of a bull, which Mamillius wants, as well as the "shoots," i. e. the budding horns, which Leontes fancies he feels on his forehead.

2 AS OUR DEAD blacks,] i. e. Blacks for the dead, mourning, which Leontes emphatically calls "false," inasmuch as it often does not represent the real state of feeling of the wearer. It is misprinted "As o're dy'd blacks" in the folio, 1623, and hence some commentators have fancied that the allusion was to the want of

permanence in o'er-dyed blacks. Leontes is speaking generally of mourning, then commonly called blacks," and "our dead blacks" (the happy emendation in the corr. fo. 1632) means only our blacks worn for the dead. It would be waste of time and space to quote proofs that "blacks" was the ordinary term for mourning in the time of Shakespeare; but we may be allowed to add the following apt quotation made by Steevens from "The Old Law," by Massinger, Middleton, and Rowley

"Blacks are often such dissembling mourners, There is no credit given to't, it has lost

All reputation by false sons and widows:

I would not hear of blacks."

3 Look on me with your WELKIN eye:] i. e. Blue eye,-the colour of the welkin, or what we commonly call the blue sky.

Can thy dam?-may't be?] All that follows to the end of the speech is erased by the old corrector of the folio, 1632: perhaps he did not understand it, and probably it was, in his time, omitted on the stage. We shall attempt no explanation of it. beyond stating that, in all likelihood, "affection" is to be taken for imagination, and "intention," not for design or purpose but, for intentness, or vehemence of passion. Not one of the commentators, ancient or modern, has concurred with another on the poet's meaning, and there can be little hesitation in coming to the conclusion that mishearing, misrecitation, and misprinting have contributed to the obscuration of what, possibly, was never very intelligible to common readers or auditors. All that is clear is that Leontes, watching the conduct of Polixenes and Hermione, misinterprets their actions, and feeds his own jealousy, concluding that their object was criminal and that he was to be the sufferer. This notion he gives vent to in various abrupt sentences, the connexion of which is entirely mental, but their general import is sufficiently clear.

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 credent3,
Thou may'st co-join with something; and thou dost ;
(And that beyond commission;) and I find it,
And that to the infection of my brains,

And hardening of my brows.

Pol.

Her. He something seems unsettled.

Pol.

What means Sicilia ?

How, my lord!

Leon. What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?
Her.

As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you mov'd, my lord?

Leon.
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, my thoughts 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?

Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.

You look

5 Then, 'tis very CREDENT,] In "Measure for Measure," A. iv. sc. 4, we have had "credent," as here, used for credible.

What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?] There is no reason for taking this passage from Leontes, and adding it, as was done by Malone and Steevens, to the preceding exclamation of Polixenes, " How, my lord!" The old copies are uniform in the present distribution of the dialogue: Leontes is endeavouring to recover himself, and breaks from a fit of abstraction with the line, "What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?"

7

Looking on the lines

Of my boy's face, My thoughts I did recoil

Twenty-three years,] In the old copies it stands, "me thoughts I did recoil," and so it has been since usually printed. A MS. correction in Lord Ellesmere's copy shows that me has been inserted for my.

This squash,] i. e. This immature peascod. We have had the word already in "Midsummer-Night's Dream," A. iii. sc. i, and in "Twelfth-Night," A. i. sc. 5. 9 Will you take eggs for money?] This phrase was proverbial for putting up with an affront, and so it was understood by Mamillius.

Leon. You will? why, happy man be his dole '!—My

brother,

Are you so fond of your young prince, as we

Do seem to be of our's?

Pol.
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.

Leon.

Offic'd with me.

So stands this squire

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.

If you would seek us,

Her.
We are your's i' the garden: shall's attend you there?
Leon. 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.

[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 th' arm,

1

why, happy man be his DOLE!] i. e. May happiness be his portion. See "The Taming of the Shrew," A. i. sc. 1, p. 457.

2 We are your's i' the garden :] In Greene's novel of "Pandosto," we read, "When Pandosto was busied with such urgent affaires that hee could not bee present with his friend Egistus, Bellaria would walke with him into the garden, where they two in privat and pleasant devises would passe away the time to both their contents." Shakespeare's Library, Part i. p. 7.

That little thinks she has been sluic'd in's 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 have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none:

It is a bawdy planet, that will strike

Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,
From east, west, north, and south: be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly: know it;

It will let in and out the

enemy,

3

With bag and baggage. Many a thousand on's 3
Have the disease, and feel't not.-How now, boy?
Mam. I am like you, they say.

Leon.

What, Camillo there?

Cam. Ay, my good lord.

Why, that's some comfort.

Leon. Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.—

Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.

[Exit MAMILLIUS.

Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold : When you cast out, it still came home.

Didst note it?

Leon.
Cam. He would not stay at your petitions; made
His business more material.

Leon.

Didst perceive it ?—

They're here with me already; whispering, rounding', "Sicilia is a "-so-forth. "Tis far gone,

3 Many a thousand on's] Malone prints it "of us;" but if he chose to alter on to of, he ought, for the sake of the verse, to have read of's: "on's" was the language of the time, and is so still in the provinces.

♦ I am like you, THEY say.] The second folio inserts “they,” after “ "you," while the first folio has "I am like you say." It may possibly be doubted whether we ought not to read, "I am like you, you say;" the old printer having omitted the repetition of the pronoun you. Leontes has previously told Mamillius that they are said to be alike,

"Yet they say we are Almost as like as eggs."

The authority of the second folio is to be preferred to any merely conjectural emendation; and "they" may have dropped out in the press.

5 They're HERE WITH ME already; whispering, ROUNDING,]"They're here with me" means, "They are aware of my condition." Rounding is another word for whispering: "to round in the ear" is a very common phrase in old writers. "To round," or roun, is derived from the German raunen; but still in this place, in Prof. Mommsen's edition, the translation is sie flüstern, murmeln.

When I shall gust it last.-How came't, Camillo,
That he did stay?

Cam.

At the good queen's entreaty.

Leon. At the queen's, be't: good should be pertinent;
But so it is, it is not. Was this taken

By any understanding pate but thine?
For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in
More than the common blocks :-not noted, is't,
But of the finer natures? by some severals,
Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes',
Perchance, are to this business purblind: say.
Cam. Business, my lord? I think, most understand
Bohemia stays here longer.

Leon.

Cam.

Leon. Ay, but why?

Ha?

Stays here longer.

Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress.

The entreaties of your mistress ?-satisfy ?-
Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well
My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou
Hast cleans'd my bosom: I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform'd; but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd

In that which seems so.

Cam.

Be it forbid, my lord!

Leon. To bide upon't, thou art not honest; or,

If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward,

Which hoxes honesty behind', restraining

From course requir'd; or else thou must be counted

A servant grafted in my serious trust,

6 When I shall GUST it last.] i. e. Taste or perceive it last, while other people are already whispering and rounding regarding it.

7 - lower MESSES,] i. e. People who sit at lower, or more removed tables. Each four diners at an inn of court are still said to constitute a mess.

8 TO BIDE upon't,] i. e. To abide upon it, equivalent to, it is my confirmed opinion. The expression is so common and intelligible that we should scarcely have thought a note needed, if the Rev. Mr. Dyce had not judged it right to be so explanatory about it in his "Few Notes," p. 79: nevertheless he furnishes only two instances, but they could easily be multiplied, with much waste of time and space, and no additional information.

9

HOXES honesty behind,] To "hox" is properly to hough or ham-string.