Act 2, Scene I

SCENE I. A room in LEONTES' palace.

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies
HERMIONE
Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,
'Tis past enduring.

First Lady
Come, my gracious lord,
Shall I be your playfellow?

MAMILLIUS
No, I'll none of you.

First Lady
Why, my sweet lord?

MAMILLIUS
You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if
I were a baby still. I love you better.

Second Lady
And why so, my lord?

MAMILLIUS
Not for because
Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say,
Become some women best, so that there be not
Too much hair there, but in a semicircle
Or a half-moon made with a pen.

Second Lady
Who taught you this?

MAMILLIUS
I learnt it out of women's faces. Pray now
What colour are your eyebrows?

First Lady
Blue, my lord.

MAMILLIUS
Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose
That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.

First Lady
Hark ye;
The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall
Present our services to a fine new prince
One of these days; and then you'ld wanton with us,
If we would have you.

Second Lady
She is spread of late
Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her!

HERMIONE
What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now
I am for you again: pray you, sit by us,
And tell 's a tale.

MAMILLIUS
Merry or sad shall't be?

HERMIONE
As merry as you will.

MAMILLIUS
A sad tale's best for winter: I have one
Of sprites and goblins.

HERMIONE
Let's have that, good sir.
Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best
To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it.

MAMILLIUS
There was a man--

HERMIONE
Nay, come, sit down; then on.

MAMILLIUS
Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly;
Yond crickets shall not hear it.

HERMIONE
Come on, then,
And give't me in mine ear.

Enter LEONTES, with ANTIGONUS, Lords and others

LEONTES
Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him?

First Lord
Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never
Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them
Even to their ships.

LEONTES
How blest am I
In my just censure, in my true opinion!
Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed
In being so blest! There may be in the cup
A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge
Is not infected: but if one present
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
With violent hefts. I have drunk,
and seen the spider.
Camillo was his