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,
Commit them to the fire.

And, might we lay th' 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!

Leon.

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

That wilt not stay her tongue.

Ant.

A gross hág!

Hang all the husbands,

That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.

1

Leon.

Once more, take her hence.
Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord

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.

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; '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 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 'tis 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 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

Lead on to some foul issue: We all kneel.

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,

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 'tis a bastard,
So sure as this beard's grey,-what will you
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.

adventure

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-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 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:
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!

Leon.

Another's issue.

1 Atten.

[Exit, with the Child

No, I'll not rear

Please your highness, posts,

From those you sent to th' Oracle, are come

An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion,

Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed,
Hasting to th' 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,
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 publickly 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.

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' th' offering!

Cleo.

But, of all, the burst