Too hot, too hot!
To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.
I have _tremor cordis_ on me;--my heart dances;
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,
As now they are; and making practis'd 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?

MAMILLIUS.
Ay, my good lord.

LEONTES.
I' fecks!
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.--

[Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE]

Still virginalling
Upon his palm?--How now, you wanton calf!
Art thou my calf?