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!
O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it,
Break too!
1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady?
Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for
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 ungrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would'st 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 don'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 ven-
geance for't
The higher powers forbid!
Paul. I say, she's dead; I'll swear't: if word,
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 things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir: therefore betake thee'
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd, All tongues to talk their bitterest.
Say no more; Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I'the boldness of your speech.,.!
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much.
The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd
To the noble heart.-What's gone, and what's past
Should be past grief: Do not receive affliction
At my petition, I beseech you; rather
Let me be punish'd, that have minded you
Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
The love I bore your queen,-lo, fool again!—
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember you of my own lord, i
Who is lost too: Take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.
Leon.
Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth; which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me
To the dead bodies of my queen, and son:
One grave shall be for both; upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto
Our shame perpetual: Once a day I'll visit
The chapel where they lie; and tears, shed there, Shall be my recreation: So long as
Nature will bear up with this exercise,
So long I daily vow to use it. Come,
And lead me to these sorrows.
BOHEMIA. A DESERT COUNTRY NEAR THE SEA.,
Enter Antigonus, with the Child; and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd
Mar. Ay, my lord; and fear We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly, And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry, And frown upon us.
Ant. Their sacred wills be done!
Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before d I call upon thee.
Mar. Make your best haste; and go not 15 Too far i'the land: 'tis like to be loud weather; Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey, that keep upon't.
I have heard, (but not believ'd,) the spirits of the
May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another;
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill'd, and so becoming: in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me;
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her: Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,—
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,
I pr'ythee, call't: for this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more:-and so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself; and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do believe,
Hermione hath suffer'd death; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
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