Leon. Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door: A most intelligencing bawd! Paul. 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, Leon. Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard:Thou, dotard, [To ANTIGONUS.] thou art womantir'd, unroosted By thy dame Partlet here,-take up the bastard; Paul. Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou For ever Tak'st up the princess, by that forced baseness Leon. He dreads his wife. Paul. So, I would, you did; then 'twere past all You'd call Leon. doubt, your children yours. A nest of traitors! Nor I; nor any, Ant. I am none, by this good light. A mankind witch!] i. e. masculine. + -thou art woman-tir'd,] Woman-tir'd, is peck'd by a woman; hen-pecked. 5 thy crone] i. e. thy old-worn out woman. A croan is an old toothless sheep: thence an old woman. 6 Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Tak'st up the princess, by that forced baseness-] Leontes had ordered Antigonus to take up the bastard; touch the Princess under that appellation. with violence to truth. JOHNSON. Paulina forbids him to Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not (For, as the case now stands, it is a curse Leon. A callat, Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her hus band, And now baits me!-This brat is none of mine; Hence with it; and, together with the dam, Paul. It is yours; And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, copy The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the val ley, The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his smiles; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:- The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours Leon. And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her tongue. Ant. A gross hag! Hang all the husbands, That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself 7 No yellow in't;] Yellow is the colour of jeolousy. And, lozel,] A term of contempt, meaning worthless, dishonest. Leon. Once more, take her hence. Can do no more. Leon. Paul. I'll have thee burn'd. It is an heretick, that makes the fire, I care not: 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 sa vours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. Leon. On your allegiance, Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her. Out of the chamber with her. Paul. 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 need these hands?— You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, Will never do him good, not one of So, so:-Farewell; we are gone. you. [Exit. Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. My child? away with't!-even thou, that hast And see it instantly consum'd with fire; Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight: For thou sett'st on thy wife. These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in't. 1 Lord. We can; my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. Leon. You are liars all. 1 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 Leon. 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, [TO ANTIGONUS. You, that have been so tenderly officious Ant. Any thing, my lord, And nobleness impose: at least, thus much; Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword," Thou wilt perform my bidding. Ant. I will, my lord. Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) for the fail 9-Swear by this sword,] It was anciently the custom to swear by the cross on the handle of a sword. Of any point in't shall not only be Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife; Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death In more than this deed doth require! and blessing, Against this cruelty, fight on thy side, Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! Leon. Another's issue. 1 Atten. No, I'll not rear [Exit, with the Child. 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. 1 Lord. So please you, sir, their speed Hath been beyond account. Leon, Twenty-three days They have been absent: "Tis good speed; foretels, 1 commend it strangely to some place,] Commit it to some place, as a stranger, without more provision. |