_Leon._ [_Aside_] Too hot, too hot! To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances; 110 But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment May a free face put on, derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, And well become the agent; 't may, I grant; But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, 115 As now they are, and making practised smiles, As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as 'twere The mort o' the deer; O, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius, Art thou my boy? _Mam._ Ay, my good lord. _Leon._ I' fecks! 120 Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd thy nose? They say 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 125 Upon his palm!--How now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf? _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, 130 That will say any thing: but were they false As o'er-dyed 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, 135 Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain! Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?--may't be?-- Affection! thy intention stabs the centre: Thou dost make possible things not so held, Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?-- 140 With what's unreal them coactive art, And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost, And that beyond commission, and I find it, And that to the infection of my brains 145 And hardening of my brows. _Pol._ What means Sicilia? _Her._ He something seems unsettled. _Pol._ How, my lord! What cheer? how is't with you, best brother? _Her._ You look As if you held a brow of much distraction: Are you moved, my lord?