First hand me; on my own accord, I'll off; But, first, I'll do my errand.-The good queen, For she is good, hath brought you forth a daugli ter; Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. [Laying down the Child. Leon. Out! A mankind witch? Hence with her, out o' door: O most intelligencing bawd! Paul. I am as ignorant in that, as you Not so: 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. 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; Take 't up, I say; give 't to thy crone. Paul. Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou For ever Takest up the princess, by that forced baseness Which he has put upon 't! Leon. He dreads his wife. Paul. So, I would, you did; then, 'twere past all doubt, You'd call your children yours. A nest of traitors! Ant. I am none, by this good light. Paul. 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. Leon. 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, Paul. 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; smiles; his The very mould and frame of hand, nail, fin ger: 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! Leon. A gross hag!And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her tongue. Ant. Hang all the husbands That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject. Leon. Once more, take her hence. Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. Leon. I'll have thee burn'd. It is a 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 savours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Leon. 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. 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, [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; Within this hour bring me word, 'tis done 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. 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 Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel You, that have been so tenderly officious Ant. Any thing, my lord, That my ability may undergo, 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-tongu'd wife; Ant. 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, 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. [Exit, with the Child. No, I'll not rear 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 Twenty-three days They have been absent: 'Tis good speed: fore- 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 Dion. I shall report, For most it caught me, the celestial habits (Methinks, I so should term them), and the re verence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! Cleo. 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. Cleo. Great Apollo, Turn all to the best: These proclamations, I little like. Dion. The violent carriage of it Will clear, or end, the business: When the oracle, fresh horses ; And gracious be the issue! [Exeunt. |