The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Winter's Tale, by William Shakespeare

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Title: The Winter's Tale

[Collins Edition]
 

Author: William Shakespeare
 

Release Date: November, 1998 [eBook #1539]

[Most recently updated: July 24, 2005]
 

Language: English
 

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
 

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THE WINTER'S TALE

by

William Shakespeare

Contents

Dramatis Personae

Scene:

Sometimes in Sicilia; sometimes in Bohemia.

ACT I.

SCENE I.  Sicilia.  An Antechamber in LEONTES' Palace.

[Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS]

ARCHIDAMUS

If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.

CAMILLO

I think this coming summer the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.

ARCHIDAMUS

Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be justified in our loves; for indeed,—

CAMILLO

Beseech you,—

ARCHIDAMUS

Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence—in so rare—I know not what to say.—We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us.

CAMILLO

You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely.

ARCHIDAMUS

Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.

CAMILLO

Sicilia cannot show himself overkind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embraced as it were from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves!

ARCHIDAMUS

I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note.

CAMILLO

I very well agree with you in the hopes of him. It is a gallant child; one that indeed physics the subject, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to see him a man.

ARCHIDAMUS

Would they else be content to die?

CAMILLO

Yes, if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live.

ARCHIDAMUS

If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II.  The same.  A Room of State in the Palace.

[Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, CAMILLO, and Attendants.]

POLIXENES

Nine changes of the watery star hath been

The shepherd's note since we have left our throne

Without a burden: time as long again

Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks;

And yet we should, for perpetuity,

Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher,

Yet standing in rich place, I multiply

With one we-thank-you many thousands more

That go before it.

LEONTES

                            Stay your thanks a while,

And pay them when you part.

POLIXENES

                                               Sir, that's to-morrow.

I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance

Or breed upon our absence; that may blow

No sneaping winds at home, to make us say,

'This is put forth too truly.' Besides, I have stay'd

To tire your royalty.

LEONTES

                                 We are tougher, brother,

Than you can put us to't.

POLIXENES

                                       No longer stay.

LEONTES

One seven-night longer.

POLIXENES

                                        Very sooth, to-morrow.

LEONTES

We'll part the time between 's then: and in that

I'll no gainsaying.

POLIXENES

                             Press me not, beseech you, so,

There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world,

So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now,

Were there necessity in your request, although

'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs

Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder,

Were, in your love a whip to me; my stay

To you a charge and trouble: to save both,

Farewell, our brother.

LEONTES

                                   Tongue-tied, our queen? Speak you.

HERMIONE

I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until

You had drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,

Charge him too coldly. Tell him you are sure

All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction

The by-gone day proclaimed: say this to him,

He's beat from his best ward.

LEONTES

                                               Well said, Hermione.

HERMIONE

To tell he longs to see his son were strong:

But let him say so then, and let him go;

But let him swear so, and he shall not stay,

We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.—

[To POLIXENES]

Yet of your royal presence I'll adventure

The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia

You take my lord, I'll give him my commission

To let him there a month behind the gest

Prefix'd for's parting:—yet, good deed, Leontes,

I love thee not a jar of the clock behind

What lady she her lord.—You'll stay?

POLIXENES

                                                          No, madam.

HERMIONE

Nay, but you will?

POLIXENES

                              I may not, verily.

HERMIONE

Verily!

You put me off with limber vows; but I,

Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths,

Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily,

You shall not go; a lady's verily is

As potent as a lord's. Will go yet?

Force me to keep you as a prisoner,

Not like a guest: so you shall pay your fees

When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?

My prisoner or my guest? by your dread 'verily,'

One of them you shall be.

POLIXENES

                                         Your guest, then, madam:

To be your prisoner should import offending;

Which is for me less easy to commit

Than you to punish.

HERMIONE

                                Not your gaoler then,

But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you

Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys.

You were pretty lordings then.

POLIXENES

                                               We were, fair queen,

Two lads that thought there was no more behind

But such a day to-morrow as to-day,

And to be boy eternal.

HERMIONE

Was not my lord the verier wag o' the two?

POLIXENES

We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun

And bleat the one at th' other. What we chang'd

Was innocence for innocence; we knew not

The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd

That any did. Had we pursu'd that life,

And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd

With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven

Boldly 'Not guilty,' the imposition clear'd

Hereditary ours.

HERMIONE

                          By this we gather

You have tripp'd since.

POLIXENES

                                     O my most sacred lady,

Temptations have since then been born to 's! for

In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;

Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes

Of my young play-fellow.

HERMIONE

                                          Grace to boot!

Of this make no conclusion, lest you say

Your queen and I are devils: yet, go on;

The offences we have made you do we'll answer;

If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us

You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not

With any but with us.

LEONTES

                                   Is he won yet?

HERMIONE

He'll stay, my lord.

LEONTES

                               At my request he would not.

Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st

To better purpose.

HERMIONE

                             Never?

LEONTES

                                           Never but once.

HERMIONE

What! have I twice said well? when was't before?

I pr'ythee tell me; cram 's with praise, and make 's

As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless

Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that.

Our praises are our wages; you may ride 's

With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere

With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal:—

My last good deed was to entreat his stay;

What was my first? it has an elder sister,

Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace!

But once before I spoke to the purpose—when?

Nay, let me have't; I long.

LEONTES

                                         Why, that was when

Three crabbèd months had sour'd themselves to death,

Ere I could make thee open thy white hand

And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter

'I am yours for ever.'

HERMIONE

                                  It is Grace indeed.

Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice;

The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;

Th' other for some while a friend.

[Giving her hand to POLIXENES.]

LEONTES

[Aside.]                                         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?

MAMILLIUS

                             Yes, if you will, my lord.

LEONTES

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 anything: but were they false

As o'er-dy'd 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 be?

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 co-active 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

And hardening of my brows.

POLIXENES

                                              What means Sicilia?

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!

[Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE]

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 the arm

That little thinks she has been sluic'd in his 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 hath revolted wives, the tenth of mankind

Would hang themselves. Physic for't there's 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't;

It will let in and out the enemy

With bag and baggage. Many thousand of us

Have the disease, and feel't not.—How now, boy!

MAMILLIUS

I am like you, they say.

LEONTES

                                     Why, that's some comfort.—

What! Camillo there?

CAMILLO

Ay, my good lord.

LEONTES

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

[Exit MAMILLIUS.]

Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.

CAMILLO

You had much ado to make his anchor hold:

When you cast out, it still came home.

LEONTES

                                                           Didst note it?

CAMILLO

He would not stay at your petitions; made

His business more material.

LEONTES

                                            Didst perceive it?—

[Aside.] They're here with me already; whispering, rounding,

'Sicilia is a so-forth.' 'Tis far gone

When I shall gust it last.—How came't, Camillo,

That he did stay?

CAMILLO

                            At the good queen's entreaty.

LEONTES

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.

CAMILLO

Business, my lord! I think most understand

Bohemia stays here longer.

LEONTES

                                            Ha!

CAMILLO

                                                   Stays here longer.

LEONTES

Ay, but why?

CAMILLO

To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties

Of our most gracious mistress.

LEONTES

                                                 Satisfy

Th' 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.

CAMILLO

                                      Be it forbid, my lord!

LEONTES

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,

And therein negligent; or else a fool

That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,

And tak'st it all for jest.

CAMILLO

                                      My gracious lord,

I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful;

In every one of these no man is free,

But that his negligence, his folly, fear,

Among the infinite doings of the world,

Sometime puts forth: in your affairs, my lord,

If ever I were wilful-negligent,

It was my folly; if industriously

I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,

Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful

To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,

Whereof the execution did cry out

Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear

Which oft affects the wisest: these, my lord,

Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty

Is never free of. But, beseech your grace,

Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass

By its own visage: if I then deny it,

'Tis none of mine.

LEONTES

                              Have not you seen, Camillo,—

But that's past doubt: you have, or your eye-glass

Is thicker than a cuckold's horn,—or heard,—

For, to a vision so apparent, rumour

Cannot be mute,—or thought,—for cogitation

Resides not in that man that does not think it,—

My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess,—

Or else be impudently negative,

To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought,—then say

My wife's a hobby-horse; deserves a name

As rank as any flax-wench that puts to

Before her troth-plight: say't and justify't.

CAMILLO

I would not be a stander-by to hear

My sovereign mistress clouded so, without

My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart,

You never spoke what did become you less

Than this; which to reiterate were sin

As deep as that, though true.

LEONTES

                                             Is whispering nothing?

Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?

Kissing with inside lip? Stopping the career

Of laughter with a sigh?—a note infallible

Of breaking honesty;—horsing foot on foot?

Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift;

Hours, minutes; noon, midnight? and all eyes

Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only,

That would unseen be wicked?—is this nothing?

Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing;

The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;

My is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,

If this be nothing.

CAMILLO

                             Good my lord, be cur'd

Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes;

For 'tis most dangerous.

LEONTES

                                       Say it be, 'tis true.

CAMILLO

No, no, my lord.

LEONTES

                           It is; you lie, you lie:

I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee;

Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave;

Or else a hovering temporizer, that

Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,

Inclining to them both.—Were my wife's liver

Infected as her life, she would not live

The running of one glass.

CAMILLO

                                         Who does infect her?

LEONTES

Why, he that wears her like her medal, hanging

About his neck, Bohemia: who—if I

Had servants true about me, that bare eyes

To see alike mine honour as their profits,

Their own particular thrifts,—they would do that

Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou,

His cupbearer,—whom I from meaner form

Have bench'd and rear'd to worship; who mayst see,

Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven,

How I am galled,—mightst bespice a cup,

To give mine enemy a lasting wink;

Which draught to me were cordial.

CAMILLO

                                                       Sir, my lord,

I could do this; and that with no rash potion,

But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work

Maliciously like poison: but I cannot

Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,

So sovereignly being honourable.

I have lov'd thee,—

LEONTES

                               Make that thy question, and go rot!

Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,

To appoint myself in this vexation; sully

The purity and whiteness of my sheets,—

Which to preserve is sleep; which being spotted

Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps;

Give scandal to the blood o' the prince, my son,—

Who I do think is mine, and love as mine,—

Without ripe moving to't?—Would I do this?

Could man so blench?

CAMILLO

                                    I must believe you, sir:

I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't;

Provided that, when he's remov'd, your highness

Will take again your queen as yours at first,

Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing

The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms

Known and allied to yours.

LEONTES

                                            Thou dost advise me

Even so as I mine own course have set down:

I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.

CAMILLO

My lord,

Go then; and with a countenance as clear

As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia

And with your queen: I am his cupbearer.

If from me he have wholesome beverage,

Account me not your servant.

LEONTES

                                                This is all:

Do't, and thou hast the one-half of my heart;

Do't not, thou splitt'st thine own.

CAMILLO

                                                     I'll do't, my lord.

LEONTES

I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me.

[Exit.]

CAMILLO

O miserable lady!—But, for me,

What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner

Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do't

Is the obedience to a master; one

Who, in rebellion with himself, will have

All that are his so too.—To do this deed,

Promotion follows: if I could find example

Of thousands that had struck anointed kings

And flourish'd after, I'd not do't; but since

Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one,

Let villainy itself forswear't. I must

Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain

To me a break-neck. Happy star reign now!

Here comes Bohemia.

[Enter POLIXENES.]

POLIXENES

                                    This is strange! methinks

My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?—

Good-day, Camillo.

CAMILLO

                                 Hail, most royal sir!

POLIXENES

What is the news i' the court?

CAMILLO

                                                None rare, my lord.

POLIXENES

The king hath on him such a countenance

As he had lost some province, and a region

Lov'd as he loves himself; even now I met him

With customary compliment; when he,

Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling

A lip of much contempt, speeds from me;

So leaves me to consider what is breeding

That changes thus his manners.

CAMILLO

I dare not know, my lord.

POLIXENES

How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not

Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts;

For, to yourself, what you do know, you must,

And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,

Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror

Which shows me mine chang'd too; for I must be

A party in this alteration, finding

Myself thus alter'd with't.

CAMILLO

                                        There is a sickness

Which puts some of us in distemper; but

I cannot name the disease; and it is caught

Of you that yet are well.

POLIXENES

                                       How! caught of me!

Make me not sighted like the basilisk:

I have look'd on thousands who have sped the better

By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,—

As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto

Clerk-like, experienc'd, which no less adorns

Our gentry than our parents' noble names,

In whose success we are gentle,—I beseech you,

If you know aught which does behove my knowledge

Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not

In ignorant concealment.

CAMILLO

                                        I may not answer.

POLIXENES

A sickness caught of me, and yet I well!

I must be answer'd.—Dost thou hear, Camillo,

I conjure thee, by all the parts of man

Which honour does acknowledge,—whereof the least

Is not this suit of mine,—that thou declare

What incidency thou dost guess of harm

Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near;

Which way to be prevented, if to be;

If not, how best to bear it.

CAMILLO

                                           Sir, I will tell you;

Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him

That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel,

Which must be ev'n as swiftly follow'd as

I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me

Cry lost, and so goodnight!

POLIXENES

                                             On, good Camillo.

CAMILLO

I am appointed him to murder you.

POLIXENES

By whom, Camillo?

CAMILLO

                                 By the king.

POLIXENES

                                                      For what?

CAMILLO

He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,

As he had seen't or been an instrument

To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queen

Forbiddenly.

POLIXENES

                     O, then my best blood turn

To an infected jelly, and my name

Be yok'd with his that did betray the best!

Turn then my freshest reputation to

A savour that may strike the dullest nostril

Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd,

Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection

That e'er was heard or read!

CAMILLO

                                             Swear his thought over

By each particular star in heaven and

By all their influences, you may as well

Forbid the sea for to obey the moon

As, or by oath remove, or counsel shake

The fabric of his folly, whose foundation

Is pil'd upon his faith, and will continue

The standing of his body.

POLIXENES

                                          How should this grow?

CAMILLO

I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to

Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born.

If, therefore you dare trust my honesty,—

That lies enclosèd in this trunk, which you

Shall bear along impawn'd,—away to-night.

Your followers I will whisper to the business;

And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns,

Clear them o' the city: for myself, I'll put

My fortunes to your service, which are here

By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain;

For, by the honour of my parents, I

Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove,

I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer

Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon

His execution sworn.

POLIXENES

                                  I do believe thee;

I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand;

Be pilot to me, and thy places shall

Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and

My people did expect my hence departure

Two days ago.—This jealousy

Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,

Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,

Must it be violent; and as he does conceive

He is dishonour'd by a man which ever

Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must

In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me;

Good expedition be my friend, and comfort

The gracious queen, part of this theme, but nothing

Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo;

I will respect thee as a father, if

Thou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid.

CAMILLO

It is in mine authority to command

The keys of all the posterns: please your highness

To take the urgent hour: come, sir, away.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II.

SCENE I.  Sicilia.  A Room in the 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.—[To Second Lady.] 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 learn'd 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'd 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, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and Guards.]

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 ey'd them

Even to their ships.

LEONTES

                               How bles'd am I

In my just censure, in my true opinion!—

Alack, for lesser knowledge!—How accurs'd

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 help in this, his pander:—

There is a plot against my life, my crown;

All's true that is mistrusted:—that false villain

Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:

He has discover'd my design, and I

Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick

For them to play at will.—How came the posterns

So easily open?

FIRST LORD

                          By his great authority;

Which often hath no less prevail'd than so,

On your command.

LEONTES

                               I know't too well.—

Give me the boy:—I am glad you did not nurse him:

Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you

Have too much blood in him.

HERMIONE

                                                What is this? sport?

LEONTES

Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her;

Away with him!—and let her sport herself

With that she's big with;—for 'tis Polixenes

Has made thee swell thus.

[Exit MAMILLIUS, with some of the Guards.]

HERMIONE

                                          But I'd say he had not,

And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying,

Howe'er you learn the nayward.

LEONTES

                                                 You, my lords,

Look on her, mark her well; be but about

To say, 'she is a goodly lady' and

The justice of your hearts will thereto add,

''Tis pity she's not honest, honourable':

Praise her but for this her without-door form,—

Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,—and straight

The shrug, the hum or ha,—these petty brands

That calumny doth use:—O, I am out,

That mercy does; for calumny will sear

Virtue itself:—these shrugs, these hum's, and ha's,

When you have said 'she's goodly,' come between,

Ere you can say 'she's honest': but be it known,

From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,

She's an adultress!

HERMIONE

                              Should a villain say so,

The most replenish'd villain in the world,

He were as much more villain: you, my lord,

Do but mistake.

LEONTES

                          You have mistook, my lady,

Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing,

Which I'll not call a creature of thy place,

Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,

Should a like language use to all degrees,

And mannerly distinguishment leave out

Betwixt the prince and beggar!—I have said,

She's an adultress; I have said with whom:

More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is

A federary with her; and one that knows

What she should shame to know herself

But with her most vile principal, that she's

A bed-swerver, even as bad as those

That vulgars give boldest titles; ay, and privy

To this their late escape.

HERMIONE

                                       No, by my life,

Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,

When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that

You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord,

You scarce can right me throughly then, to say

You did mistake.

LEONTES

                            No; if I mistake

In those foundations which I build upon,

The centre is not big enough to bear

A school-boy's top.—Away with her to prison!

He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty

But that he speaks.

HERMIONE

                              There's some ill planet reigns:

I must be patient till the heavens look

With an aspéct more favourable.—Good my lords,

I am not prone to weeping, as our sex

Commonly are; the want of which vain dew

Perchance shall dry your pities; but I have

That honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns

Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,

With thoughts so qualified as your charities

Shall best instruct you, measure me;—and so

The king's will be perform'd!

LEONTES

[To the GUARD.]                   Shall I be heard?

HERMIONE

Who is't that goes with me?—Beseech your highness

My women may be with me; for, you see,

My plight requires it.—Do not weep, good fools;

There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress

Has deserv'd prison, then abound in tears

As I come out: this action I now go on

Is for my better grace.—Adieu, my lord:

I never wish'd to see you sorry; now

I trust I shall.—My women, come; you have leave.

LEONTES

Go, do our bidding; hence!

[Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies, with Guards.]

FIRST LORD

Beseech your highness, call the queen again.

ANTIGONUS

Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice

Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer,

Yourself, your queen, your son.

FIRST LORD

                                                   For her, my lord,—

I dare my life lay down,—and will do't, sir,

Please you to accept it,—that the queen is spotless

I' the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean

In this which you accuse her.

ANTIGONUS

                                                If it prove

She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where

I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her;

Than when I feel and see her no further trust her;

For every inch of woman in the world,

Ay, every dram of woman's flesh, is false,

If she be.

LEONTES

Hold your peaces.

FIRST LORD

                              Good my lord,—

ANTIGONUS

It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:

You are abus'd, and by some putter-on

That will be damn'd for't: would I knew the villain,

I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd,—

I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven;

The second and the third, nine and some five;

If this prove true, they'll pay for't. By mine honour,

I'll geld 'em all: fourteen they shall not see,

To bring false generations: they are co-heirs;

And I had rather glib myself than they

Should not produce fair issue.

LEONTES

                                                Cease; no more.

You smell this business with a sense as cold

As is a dead man's nose: but I do see't and feel't

As you feel doing thus; and see withal

The instruments that feel.

ANTIGONUS

                                         If it be so,

We need no grave to bury honesty;

There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten

Of the whole dungy earth.

LEONTES

                                          What! Lack I credit?

FIRST LORD

I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,

Upon this ground: and more it would content me

To have her honour true than your suspicion;

Be blam'd for't how you might.

LEONTES

                                                 Why, what need we

Commune with you of this, but rather follow

Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative

Calls not your counsels; but our natural goodness

Imparts this; which, if you,—or stupified

Or seeming so in skill,—cannot or will not

Relish a truth, like us, inform yourselves

We need no more of your advice: the matter,

The loss, the gain, the ord'ring on't, is all

Properly ours.

ANTIGONUS

                       And I wish, my liege,

You had only in your silent judgment tried it,

Without more overture.

LEONTES

                                      How could that be?

Either thou art most ignorant by age,

Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,

Added to their familiarity,—

Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture,

That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation,

But only seeing, all other circumstances

Made up to th' deed,—doth push on this proceeding.

Yet, for a greater confirmation,—

For, in an act of this importance, 'twere

Most piteous to be wild,—I have despatch'd in post

To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple,

Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know

Of stuff'd sufficiency: now, from the oracle

They will bring all, whose spiritual counsel had,

Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?

FIRST LORD

Well done, my lord,—

LEONTES

Though I am satisfied, and need no more

Than what I know, yet shall the oracle

Give rest to the minds of others such as he

Whose ignorant credulity will not

Come up to th' truth: so have we thought it good

From our free person she should be confin'd;

Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence

Be left her to perform. Come, follow us;

We are to speak in public; for this business

Will raise us all.

ANTIGONUS

[Aside.]            To laughter, as I take it,

If the good truth were known.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II.  The same.  The outer Room of a Prison.

[Enter PAULINA and Attendants.]

PAULINA

The keeper of the prison,—call to him;

Let him have knowledge who I am.

[Exit an Attendant.]

                                                Good lady!

No court in Europe is too good for thee;

What dost thou then in prison?

[Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper.]

                                                  Now, good sir,

You know me, do you not?

KEEPER

                                            For a worthy lady,

And one who much I honour.

PAULINA

                                                Pray you, then,

Conduct me to the queen.

KEEPER

                                          I may not, madam;

To the contrary I have express commandment.

PAULINA

Here's ado, to lock up honesty and honour from

The access of gentle visitors!—Is't lawful,

Pray you, to see her women? any of them?

Emilia?

KEEPER

              So please you, madam, to put

Apart these your attendants, I

Shall bring Emilia forth.

PAULINA

                                        I pray now, call her.

Withdraw yourselves.

[Exeunt ATTENDANTS.]

KEEPER

                                    And, madam,

I must be present at your conference.

PAULINA

Well, be't so, pr'ythee.

[Exit KEEPER.]

Here's such ado to make no stain a stain

As passes colouring.

[Re-enter KEEPER, with EMILIA.]

Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?

EMILIA

As well as one so great and so forlorn

May hold together: on her frights and griefs,—

Which never tender lady hath borne greater,—

She is, something before her time, deliver'd.

PAULINA

A boy?

EMILIA

            A daughter; and a goodly babe,

Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives

Much comfort in't; says 'My poor prisoner,

I am as innocent as you.'

PAULINA

                                        I dare be sworn;—

These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king, beshrew them!

He must be told on't, and he shall: the office

Becomes a woman best; I'll take't upon me;

If I prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister;

And never to my red-look'd anger be

The trumpet any more.—Pray you, Emilia,

Commend my best obedience to the queen;

If she dares trust me with her little babe,

I'll show't the king, and undertake to be

Her advocate to th' loud'st. We do not know

How he may soften at the sight o' the child:

The silence often of pure innocence

Persuades, when speaking fails.

EMILIA

                                                   Most worthy madam,

Your honour and your goodness is so evident,

That your free undertaking cannot miss

A thriving issue: there is no lady living

So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship

To visit the next room, I'll presently

Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer;

Who but to-day hammer'd of this design,

But durst not tempt a minister of honour,

Lest she should be denied.

PAULINA

                                           Tell her, Emilia,

I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from it

As boldness from my bosom, let't not be doubted

I shall do good.

EMILIA

                         Now be you bless'd for it!

I'll to the queen: please you come something nearer.

KEEPER

Madam, if 't please the queen to send the babe,

I know not what I shall incur to pass it,

Having no warrant.

PAULINA

                               You need not fear it, sir:

This child was prisoner to the womb, and is,

By law and process of great nature thence

Freed and enfranchis'd: not a party to

The anger of the king, nor guilty of,

If any be, the trespass of the queen.

KEEPER

I do believe it.

PAULINA

Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I

Will stand betwixt you and danger.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III.  The same.  A Room in the Palace.

[Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and other Attendants.]

LEONTES

Nor night nor day no rest: it is but weakness

To bear the matter thus,—mere weakness. If

The cause were not in being,—part o' the cause,

She the adultress; for the harlot king

Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank

And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she

I can hook to me:—say that she were gone,

Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest

Might come to me again.—Who's there?

FIRST ATTENDANT

                                                               My lord?

LEONTES

How does the boy?

FIRST ATTENDANT

                               He took good rest to-night;

'Tis hop'd his sickness is discharg'd.

LEONTES

To see his nobleness!

Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,

He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply,

Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself,

Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,

And downright languish'd.—Leave me solely:—go,

See how he fares.—

[Exit FIRST ATTENDANT.]

                                Fie, fie! no thought of him;

The very thought of my revenges that way

Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty,

And in his parties, his alliance,—let him be,

Until a time may serve: for present vengeance,

Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes

Laugh at me; make their pastime at my sorrow:

They should not laugh if I could reach them; nor

Shall she within my power.

[Enter PAULINA, with a Child.]

FIRST LORD

                                            You must not enter.

PAULINA

Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me:

Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,

Than the queen's life? a gracious innocent soul,

More free than he is jealous.

ANTIGONUS

                                              That's enough.

SECOND ATTENDANT

Madam, he hath not slept to-night; commanded

None should come at him.

PAULINA

                                           Not so hot, good sir;

I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you,—

That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh

At each his needless heavings,—such as you

Nourish the cause of his awaking: I

Do come, with words as med'cinal as true,

Honest as either, to purge him of that humour

That presses him from sleep.

LEONTES

                                               What noise there, ho?

PAULINA

No noise, my lord; but needful conference

About some gossips for your highness.

LEONTES

                                                               How!—

Away with that audacious lady!—Antigonus,

I charg'd thee that she should not come about me:

I knew she would.

ANTIGONUS

                             I told her so, my lord,

On your displeasure's peril, and on mine,

She should not visit you.

LEONTES

                                        What, canst not rule her?

PAULINA

From all dishonesty he can: in this,—

Unless he take the course that you have done,

Commit me for committing honour,—trust it,

He shall not rule me.

ANTIGONUS

                                  La you now, you hear

When she will take the rein, I let her run;

But she'll not stumble.

PAULINA

                                    Good my liege, I come,—

And, I beseech you, hear me, who professes

Myself your loyal servant, your physician,

Your most obedient counsellor: yet that dares

Less appear so, in comforting your evils,

Than such as most seem yours:—I say I come

From your good queen.

LEONTES

                                      Good queen!

PAULINA

                                                    Good queen, my lord,

Good queen: I say, good queen;

And would by combat make her good, so were I

A man, the worst about you.

LEONTES

                                             Force her hence!

PAULINA

Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes

First hand me: on mine own accord I'll off;

But first I'll do my errand—The good queen,

For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter;

Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing.

[Laying down the child.]

LEONTES

                                                               Out!

A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door:

A most intelligencing bawd!

PAULINA

                                              Not so:

I am as ignorant in that as you

In so entitling me; and no less honest

Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant,

As this world goes, to pass for honest.

LEONTES

                                                             Traitors!

Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard:—

Thou dotard! [To ANTIGONUS] Thou art woman-tir'd, unroosted

By thy Dame Partlet here:—take up the bastard;

Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone.

PAULINA

                                                        For ever

Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou

Tak'st up the princess by that forced baseness

Which he has put upon't!

LEONTES

                                          He dreads his wife.

PAULINA

So I would you did; then 'twere past all doubt

You'd call your children yours.

LEONTES

                                                 A nest of traitors?

ANTIGONUS

I am none, by this good light.

PAULINA

                                               Nor I; nor any,

But one that's here; and that's himself: for he

The sacred honour of himself, his queen's,

His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander,

Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not,—

For, as the case now stands, it is a curse

He cannot be compell'd to't,—once remove

The root of his opinion, which is rotten

As ever oak or stone was sound.

LEONTES

                                                    A callat

Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband,

And now baits me!—This brat is none of mine;

It is the issue of Polixenes:

Hence with it! and together with the dam,

Commit them to the fire.

PAULINA

                                        It is yours!

And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge,

So like you 'tis the worse.—Behold, my lords,

Although the print be little, the whole matter

And copy of the father,—eye, nose, lip,

The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley,

The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek; his smiles;

The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:—

And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it

So like to him that got it, if thou hast

The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours

No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does,

Her children not her husband's!

LEONTES

                                                  A gross hag!

And, losel, thou art worthy to be hang'd

That wilt not stay her tongue.

ANTIGONUS

                                               Hang all the husbands

That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself

Hardly one subject.

LEONTES

                               Once more, take her hence.

PAULINA

A most unworthy and unnatural lord

Can do no more.

LEONTES

                           I'll have thee burn'd.

PAULINA

                                                            I care not.

It is an heretic that makes the fire,

Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant

But this most cruel usage of your queen,—

Not able to produce more accusation

Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,—something savours

Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,

Yea, scandalous to the world.

LEONTES

                                                On your allegiance,

Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant,

Where were her life? She durst not call me so,

If she did know me one. Away with her!

PAULINA

I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone.—

Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send her

A better guiding spirit!—What needs these hands?

You that are thus so tender o'er his follies,

Will never do him good, not one of you.

So, so:—farewell; we are gone.

[Exit.]

LEONTES

Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.

My child?—away with't.—even thou, that hast

A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence,

And see it instantly consum'd with fire;

Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight:

Within this hour bring me word 'tis done,—

And by good testimony,—or I'll seize thy life,

With that thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse,

And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;

The bastard-brains with these my proper hands

Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;

For thou set'st on thy wife.

ANTIGONUS

                                           I did not, sir:

These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,

Can clear me in't.

LORDS

                             We can:—my royal liege,

He is not guilty of her coming hither.

LEONTES

You're liars all.

FIRST LORD

Beseech your highness, give us better credit:

We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech

So to esteem of us: and on our knees we beg,—

As recompense of our dear services,

Past and to come,—that you do change this purpose,

Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must

Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel.

LEONTES

I am a feather for each wind that blows:—

Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel

And call me father? better burn it now,

Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live:—

It shall not neither.—[To ANTIGONUS.] You, sir, come you hither:

You that have been so tenderly officious

With Lady Margery, your midwife, there,

To save this bastard's life,—for 'tis a bastard,

So sure as this beard's grey,—what will you adventure

To save this brat's life?

ANTIGONUS

                                     Anything, my lord,

That my ability may undergo,

And nobleness impose: at least, thus much;

I'll pawn the little blood which I have left

To save the innocent:—anything possible.

LEONTES

It shall be possible. Swear by this sword

Thou wilt perform my bidding.

ANTIGONUS

                                                  I will, my lord.

LEONTES

Mark, and perform it,—seest thou? for the fail

Of any point in't shall not only be

Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife,

Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee,

As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry

This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it

To some remote and desert place, quite out

Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it,

Without more mercy, to it own protection

And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune

It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,

On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture,

That thou commend it strangely to some place

Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.

ANTIGONUS

I swear to do this, though a present death

Had been more merciful.—Come on, poor babe:

Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens

To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say,

Casting their savageness aside, have done

Like offices of pity.—Sir, be prosperous

In more than this deed does require!—and blessing,

Against this cruelty, fight on thy side,

Poor thing, condemn'd to loss!

[Exit with the child.]

LEONTES

                                                 No, I'll not rear

Another's issue.

SECOND ATTENDANT

                          Please your highness, posts

From those you sent to the oracle are come

An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion,

Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed,

Hasting to the court.

FIRST LORD

                                 So please you, sir, their speed

Hath been beyond account.

LEONTES

                                           Twenty-three days

They have been absent: 'tis good speed; foretells

The great Apollo suddenly will have

The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords;

Summon a session, that we may arraign

Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath

Been publicly accus'd, so shall she have

A just and open trial. While she lives,

My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me;

And think upon my bidding.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III.

SCENE I.  Sicilia.  A Street in some Town.

[Enter CLEOMENES and DION.]

CLEOMENES

The climate's delicate; the air most sweet;

Fertile the isle; the temple much surpassing

The common praise it bears.

DION

                                              I shall report,

For most it caught me, the celestial habits,—

Methinks I so should term them,—and the reverence

Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!

How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly,

It was i' the offering!

CLEOMENES

                                  But of all, the burst

And the ear-deaf'ning voice o' the oracle,

Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense

That I was nothing.

DION

                                If the event o' the journey

Prove as successful to the queen,—O, be't so!—

As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy,

The time is worth the use on't.

CLEOMENES

                                               Great Apollo

Turn all to th' best! These proclamations,

So forcing faults upon Hermione,

I little like.

DION

                  The violent carriage of it

Will clear or end the business: when the oracle,—

Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up,—

Shall the contents discover, something rare

Even then will rush to knowledge.—Go,—fresh horses;—

And gracious be the issue!

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II.  The same.  A Court of Justice.

[Enter LEONTES, Lords, and Officers appear, properly seated.]

LEONTES

This sessions,—to our great grief we pronounce,—

Even pushes 'gainst our heart;—the party tried,

The daughter of a king, our wife; and one

Of us too much belov'd. Let us be clear'd

Of being tyrannous, since we so openly

Proceed in justice; which shall have due course,

Even to the guilt or the purgation.—

Produce the prisoner.

OFFICER

It is his highness' pleasure that the queen

Appear in person here in court.—

CRIER.

                                                      Silence!

[HERMIONE, is brought in guarded; PAULINA, and Ladies attending.]

LEONTES

Read the indictment.

OFFICER

[Reads.] 'Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.'

HERMIONE

Since what I am to say must be but that

Which contradicts my accusation, and

The testimony on my part no other

But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me

To say 'Not guilty': mine integrity,

Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,

Be so receiv'd. But thus,—if powers divine

Behold our human actions,—as they do,—

I doubt not, then, but innocence shall make

False accusation blush, and tyranny

Tremble at patience.—You, my lord, best know,—

Who least will seem to do so,—my past life

Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,

As I am now unhappy: which is more

Than history can pattern, though devis'd

And play'd to take spectators; for behold me,—

A fellow of the royal bed, which owe

A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,

The mother to a hopeful prince,—here standing

To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore

Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it

As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour,

'Tis a derivative from me to mine,

And only that I stand for. I appeal

To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes

Came to your court, how I was in your grace,

How merited to be so; since he came,

With what encounter so uncurrent I

Have strain'd t' appear thus: if one jot beyond

The bound of honour, or in act or will

That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts

Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin

Cry fie upon my grave!

LEONTES

                                      I ne'er heard yet

That any of these bolder vices wanted

Less impudence to gainsay what they did

Than to perform it first.

HERMIONE

                                      That's true enough;

Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

LEONTES

You will not own it.

HERMIONE

                                 More than mistress of

Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not

At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,—

With whom I am accus'd,—I do confess

I lov'd him, as in honour he requir'd;

With such a kind of love as might become

A lady like me; with a love even such,

So and no other, as yourself commanded:

Which not to have done, I think had been in me

Both disobedience and ingratitude

To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke,

Ever since it could speak, from an infant, freely,

That it was yours. Now for conspiracy,

I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd

For me to try how: all I know of it

Is that Camillo was an honest man;

And why he left your court, the gods themselves,

Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

LEONTES

You knew of his departure, as you know

What you have underta'en to do in 's absence.

HERMIONE

Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not:

My life stands in the level of your dreams,

Which I'll lay down.

LEONTES

                                 Your actions are my dreams;

You had a bastard by Polixenes,

And I but dream'd it:—as you were past all shame,—

Those of your fact are so,—so past all truth:

Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as

Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,

No father owning it,—which is, indeed,

More criminal in thee than it,—so thou

Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage

Look for no less than death.

HERMIONE

                                             Sir, spare your threats:

The bug which you would fright me with, I seek.

To me can life be no commodity:

The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,

I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,

But know not how it went: my second joy,

And first-fruits of my body, from his presence

I am barr'd, like one infectious: my third comfort,

Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,—

The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,—

Hal'd out to murder: myself on every post

Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred

The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs

To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried

Here to this place, i' the open air, before

I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,

Tell me what blessings I have here alive,

That I should fear to die. Therefore proceed.

But yet hear this; mistake me not;—no life,—

I prize it not a straw,—but for mine honour

(Which I would free), if I shall be condemn'd

Upon surmises—all proofs sleeping else,

But what your jealousies awake—I tell you

'Tis rigour, and not law.—Your honours all,

I do refer me to the oracle:

Apollo be my judge!

FIRST LORD

                                 This your request

Is altogether just: therefore, bring forth,

And in Apollo's name, his oracle:

[Exeunt certain Officers.]

HERMIONE

The Emperor of Russia was my father;

O that he were alive, and here beholding

His daughter's trial! that he did but see

The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes

Of pity, not revenge!

[Re-enter OFFICERS, with CLEOMENES and DION.]

OFFICER

You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,

That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have

Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought

This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd

Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then,

You have not dar'd to break the holy seal,

Nor read the secrets in't.

CLEOMENES, DION

                                     All this we swear.

LEONTES

Break up the seals and read.

OFFICER

[Reads.] 'Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that which is lost be not found.'

LORDS

Now blessed be the great Apollo!

HERMIONE

                                                      Praised!

LEONTES

Hast thou read truth?

OFFICER

                                  Ay, my lord; even so

As it is here set down.

LEONTES

There is no truth at all i' the oracle:

The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood!

[Enter a Servant hastily.]

SERVANT

My lord the king, the king!

LEONTES

                                            What is the business?

SERVANT

O sir, I shall be hated to report it:

The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear

Of the queen's speed, is gone.

LEONTES

                                                How! gone?

SERVANT

                                                                    Is dead.

LEONTES

Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves

Do strike at my injustice.

[HERMIONE faints.]

                                         How now there!

PAULINA

This news is mortal to the queen:—Look down

And see what death is doing.

LEONTES

                                              Take her hence:

Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover.—

I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion:—

Beseech you tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life.—

[Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies with HERMIONE.]

                                         Apollo, pardon

My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle!—

I'll reconcile me to Polixenes;

New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo—

Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy;

For, being transported by my jealousies

To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose

Camillo for the minister to poison

My friend Polixenes: which had been done,

But that the good mind of Camillo tardied

My swift command, though I with death and with

Reward did threaten and encourage him,

Not doing it and being done: he, most humane,

And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest

Unclasp'd my practice; quit his fortunes here,

Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard

Of all incertainties himself commended,

No richer than his honour:—how he glisters

Thorough my rust! And how his piety

Does my deeds make the blacker!

[Re-enter PAULINA.]

PAULINA

                                                       Woe the while!

O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,

Break too!

FIRST LORD

What fit is this, good lady?

PAULINA

What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?

What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling

In leads or oils? what old or newer torture

Must I receive, whose every word deserves

To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny

Together working with thy jealousies,—

Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle

For girls of nine,—O, think what they have done,

And then run mad indeed,—stark mad! for all

Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.

That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing;

That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,

And damnable ingrateful; nor was't much

Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,

To have him kill a king; poor trespasses,—

More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon

The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter,

To be or none or little, though a devil

Would have shed water out of fire ere done't;

Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death

Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts,—

Thoughts high for one so tender,—cleft the heart

That could conceive a gross and foolish sire

Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not,—no,

Laid to thy answer: but the last,—O lords,

When I have said, cry Woe!—the queen, the queen,

The sweetest, dearest creature's dead; and vengeance for't

Not dropp'd down yet.

FIRST LORD

                                    The higher powers forbid!

PAULINA

I say she's dead: I'll swear't. If word nor oath

Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring

Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye,

Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you

As I would do the gods.—But, O thou tyrant!

Do not repent these thin