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.

Leon.

Out of the chamber with her.

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!

Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 't is 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 you.

So, so-farewell; we are gone.

[Exit.

Leon. 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 't is done,

(And by good testimony) or I'll seize thy life,
With what 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 sett'st on thy wife.

Ant.

I did not, sir:

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're liars all.

1 Lord. Beseech your highness, give us better credit. We have always truly serv'd you, and beseech you 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.

Leon. Am I a feather for each wind that blows?

Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel

And call me father? Better burn it now,
VOL. III.-30

Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live:-
It shall not neither.-You, sir, come you hither;
[TO ANTIGONUS.

You, that have been so tenderly officious
With lady Margery, your midwife, there,

To save this bastard's life,-for 't is a bastard,

So sure as thy1 beard's grey,-what will you adventure To save this brat's life?

Ant.

Any thing, 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; any thing possible.

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
Of any point in 't shall not only be

Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued 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 its 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.
Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death
Had been more merciful.-Come on, poor babe:
[Taking it up.2

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 doth require !-And blessing Against this cruelty fight on thy side,

Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! [Exit with the Child. No; I'll not rear

Leon.

Another's issue.

1 Old copies: this; thy is the MS. emendation of Lord F. Egerton's folio, 1623. 2 Not in f. e.

1 Atten.

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: 't is good speed, forêtels,
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.
And think upon my bidding.

Leave me,

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-The Same. A Street in some Town.

Enter CLEOMENES and DION.

Cleo. The climate 's delicate, the air most sweet, Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing

The common praise it bears.

Dion.

1 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!

Cleo.

But, of all, the burst

And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle,
Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd my sense,
That I was nothing.

Dion.
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.

If th' event o' the journey

Cleo.

Great Apollo,

Turn all to the 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.

Leon. 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.

Offi. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen
Appear in person here in court.

[Silence.1 Enter HERMIONE, to her trial, guarded; PAULINA and Ladies attending.

Leon. Read the indictment.

Offi. "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 a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night."

Her. 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

1 Printed as a stage direction in the 1st folio; the others omit it. Mod. eds., with Malone, usually add it to the previous speech. 2 The words, "to her trial," not in f. e.

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,
'T is 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 stray'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.

Leon.

I ne'er heard yet,
That any of these bolder vices wanted
Less impudence to gainsay what they did,
Than to perform it first.

Her.

Though 't is a saying, sir, not due to me.

That's true enough:

More than mistress of,

Leon. You will not own it.

Her.

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

1 Own. 2 strain'd: in f. e.