Her. By this we gatherYou haue tript since
Pol. O my most sacred Lady,Temptations haue since then been borne to's: forIn those vnfledg'd dayes, was my Wife a Girle;Your precious selfe had then not cross'd the eyesOf my young Play-fellow
Her. Grace to boot:Of this make no conclusion, least you sayYour Queene and I are Deuils: yet goe on,Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le answere,If you first sinn'd with vs: and that with vsYou did continue fault; and that you slipt notWith any, but with vs
Leo. Is he woon yet?Her. Hee'le stay (my Lord.)Leo. At my request, he would not:Hermione (my dearest) thou neuer spoak'stTo better purpose
Her. Neuer?Leo. Neuer, but once
Her. What? haue I twice said well? when was't before?I prethee tell me: cram's with prayse, and make'sAs fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tonguelesse,Slaughters a thousand, wayting vpon that.Our prayses are our Wages. You may ride'sWith one soft Kisse a thousand Furlongs, ereWith Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale:My last good deed, was to entreat his stay.What was my first? it ha's an elder Sister,Or I mistake you: O, would her Name were Grace.But once before I spoke to th' purpose? when?Nay, let me haue't: I long
Leo. Why, that was whenThree crabbed Moneths had sowr'd themselues to death,Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand:A clap thy selfe, my Loue; then didst thou vtter,I am yours for euer
Her. 'Tis Grace indeed.Why lo-you now; I haue spoke to th' purpose twice:The one, for euer earn'd a Royall Husband;Th' other, for some while a Friend
Leo. Too hot, too hot:To mingle friendship farre, is mingling bloods.I haue Tremor Cordis on me: my heart daunces,But not for ioy; not ioy. This EntertainmentMay a free face put on: deriue a LibertieFrom Heartinesse, from Bountie, fertile Bosome,And well become the Agent: 't may; I graunt:But to be padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers,As now they are, and making practis'd SmilesAs in a Looking-Glasse; and then to sigh, as 'twereThe Mort o'th' Deere: oh, that is entertainmentMy Bosome likes not, nor my Browes. Mamillius,Art thou my Boy?Mam. I, my good Lord
Leo. I'fecks:Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't smutch'd thy Nose?They say it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captaine,We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, Captaine:And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe,Are all call'd Neat. Still VirginallingVpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calfe)Art thou my Calfe?Mam. Yes, if you will (my Lord.)Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haueTo be full, like me: yet they say we areAlmost as like as Egges; Women say so,(That will say any thing.) But were they falseAs o're-dy'd Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; falseAs Dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixesNo borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true,To say this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page)Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine,Most dear'st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't beAffection? thy Intention stabs the Center.Thou do'st make possible things not so held,Communicat'st with Dreames (how can this be?)With what's vnreall: thou coactiue art,And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent,Thou may'st co-ioyne with something, and thou do'st,(And that beyond Commission) and I find it,(And that to the infection of my Braines,And hardning of my Browes.)Pol. What meanes Sicilia?Her. He something seemes vnsetled
Pol. How? my Lord?Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, best Brother?Her. You look as if you held a Brow of much distraction:Are you mou'd (my Lord?)Leo. No, in good earnest.How sometimes Nature will betray it's folly?It's tendernesse? and make it selfe a PastimeTo harder bosomes? Looking on the LynesOf my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyleTwentie three yeeres, and saw my selfe vn-breech'd,In my greene Veluet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd,Least it should bite it's Master, and so proue(As Ornaments oft do's) too dangerous:How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell,This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend,Will you take Egges for Money?Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight
Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My BrotherAre you so fond of your young Prince, as weDoe seeme to be of ours?Pol. If at home (Sir)He's all my Exercise, my Mirth, my Matter;Now my sworne Friend, and then mine Enemy;My Parasite, my Souldier: States-man; all:He makes a Iulyes day, short as December,And with his varying childnesse, cures in meThoughts, that would thick my blood
Leo. So stands this SquireOffic'd with me: We two will walke (my Lord)And leaue you to your grauer steps. Hermione,How thou lou'st vs, shew in our Brothers welcome;Let what is deare in Sicily, be cheape:Next to thy selfe, and my young Rouer, he'sApparant to my heart
Her. If you would seeke vs,We are yours i'th' Garden: shall's attend you there?Leo. To your owne bents dispose you: you'le be found,Be you beneath the Sky: I am angling now,(Though you perceiue me not how I giue Lyne)Goe too, goe too.How she holds vp the Neb? the Byll to him?And armes her with the boldnesse of a WifeTo her allowing Husband. Gone already,Ynch-thick, knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one.Goe play (Boy) play: thy Mother playes, and IPlay too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issueWill hisse me to my Graue: Contempt and ClamorWill be my Knell. Goe play (Boy) play, there haue been(Or I am much deceiu'd) Cuckolds ere now,And many a man there is (euen at this present,Now, while I speake this) holds his Wife by th' Arme,That little thinkes she ha's been sluyc'd in's absence,And his Pond fish'd by his next Neighbor (bySir Smile, his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't,Whiles other men haue Gates, and those Gates open'd(As mine) against their will. Should all despaireThat haue reuolted Wiues, the tenth of MankindWould hang themselues. Physick for't, there's none:It is a bawdy Planet, that will strikeWhere 'tis predominant; and 'tis powrefull: thinke it:From East, West, North, and South, be it concluded,No Barricado for a Belly. Know't,It will let in and out the Enemy,With bag and baggage: many thousand on'sHaue the Disease, and feele't not. How now Boy?Mam. I am like you say
Leo. Why, that's some comfort.What? Camillo there?Cam. I, my good Lord
Leo. Goe play (Mamillius) thou'rt an honest man:Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer
Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold,When you cast out, it still came home
Leo. Didst note it?Cam. He would not stay at your Petitions, madeHis Businesse more materiall
Leo. Didst perceiue it?They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding:Sicilia is a so-forth: 'tis farre gone,When I shall gust it last. How cam't (Camillo)That he did stay?Cam. At the good Queenes entreatie
Leo. At the Queenes be't: Good should be pertinent,But so it is, it is not. Was this takenBy any vnderstanding Pate but thine?For thy Conceit is soaking, will draw inMore then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't,But of the finer Natures? by some SeuerallsOf Head-peece extraordinarie? Lower MessesPerchance are to this Businesse purblind? say
Cam. Businesse, my Lord? I thinke most vnderstandBohemia stayes here longer
Leo. Ha?Cam. Stayes here longer
Leo. I, but why?Cam. To satisfie your Highnesse, and the EntreatiesOf our most gracious Mistresse
Leo. Satisfie?Th' entreaties of your Mistresse? Satisfie?Let that suffice. I haue trusted thee (Camillo)With all the neerest things to my heart, as wellMy Chamber-Councels, wherein (Priest-like) thouHast cleans'd my Bosome: I, from thee departedThy Penitent reform'd: but we haue beenDeceiu'd in thy Integritie, deceiu'dIn that which seemes so
Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.)Leo. To bide vpon't: thou art not honest: orIf thou inclin'st that way, thou art a Coward,Which hoxes honestie behind, restrayningFrom Course requir'd: or else thou must be countedA Seruant, grafted in my serious Trust,And therein negligent: or else a Foole,That seest a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne,And tak'st it all for ieast
Cam. My gracious Lord,I may be negligent, foolish, and fearefull,In euery one of these, no man is free,But that his negligence, his folly, feare,Among the infinite doings of the World,Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.)If euer I were wilfull-negligent,It was my folly: if industriouslyI play'd the Foole, it was my negligence,Not weighing well the end: if euer fearefullTo doe a thing, where I the issue doubted,Whereof the execution did cry outAgainst the non-performance, 'twas a feareWhich oft infects the wisest: these (my Lord)Are such allow'd Infirmities, that honestieIs neuer free of. But beseech your GraceBe plainer with me, let me know my TrespasBy it's owne visage; if I then deny it,'Tis none of mine
Leo. Ha' not you seene Camillo?(But that's past doubt: you haue, or your eye-glasseIs thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard?(For to a Vision so apparant, RumorCannot be mute) or thought? (for CogitationResides not in that man, that do's not thinke)My Wife is slipperie? If thou wilt confesse,Or else be impudently negatiue,To haue nor Eyes, nor Eares, nor Thought, then sayMy Wife's a Holy-Horse, deserues a NameAs ranke as any Flax-Wench, that puts toBefore her troth-plight: say't, and iustify't
Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to heareMy Soueraigne Mistresse clouded so, withoutMy present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart,You neuer spoke what did become you lesseThen this; which to reiterate, were sinAs deepe as that, though true
Leo. Is whispering nothing?Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke? is meating Noses?Kissing with in-side Lip? stopping the CariereOf Laughter, with a sigh? (a Note infallibleOf breaking Honestie) horsing foot on foot?Skulking in corners? wishing Clocks more swift?Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night? and all EyesBlind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely,That would vnseene be wicked? Is this nothing?Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing,The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing,My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue these Nothings,If this be nothing
Cam. Good my Lord, be cur'dOf this diseas'd Opinion, and betimes,For 'tis most dangerous
Leo. Say it be, 'tis true
Cam. No, no, my Lord
Leo. It is: you lye, you lye:I say thou lyest Camillo, and I hate thee,Pronounce thee a grosse Lowt, a mindlesse Slaue,Or else a houering Temporizer, thatCanst with thine eyes at once see good and euill,Inclining to them both: were my Wiues LiuerInfected (as her life) she would not liueThe running of one Glasse
Cam. Who do's infect her?Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hangingAbout his neck (Bohemia) who, if IHad Seruants true about me, that bare eyesTo see alike mine Honor, as their Profits,(Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe thatWhich should vndoe more doing: I, and thouHis Cup-bearer, whom I from meaner formeHaue Bench'd, and rear'd to Worship, who may'st seePlainely, as Heauen sees Earth, and Earth sees Heauen,How I am gall'd, might'st be-spice a Cup,To giue mine Enemy a lasting Winke:Which Draught to me, were cordiall
Cam. Sir (my Lord)I could doe this, and that with no rash Potion,But with a lingring Dram, that should not workeMaliciously, like Poyson: But I cannotBeleeue this Crack to be in my dread Mistresse(So soueraignely being Honorable.)I haue lou'd thee,Leo. Make that thy question, and goe rot:Do'st thinke I am so muddy, so vnsetled,To appoint my selfe in this vexation?Sully the puritie and whitenesse of my Sheetes(Which to preserue, is Sleepe; which being spotted,Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tayles of Waspes)Giue scandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne,(Who I doe thinke is mine, and loue as mine)Without ripe mouing to't? Would I doe this?Could man so blench?Cam. I must beleeue you (Sir)I doe, and will fetch off Bohemia for't:Prouided, that when hee's remou'd, your HighnesseWill take againe your Queene, as yours at first,Euen for your Sonnes sake, and thereby for sealingThe Iniurie of Tongues, in Courts and KingdomesKnowne, and ally'd to yours
Leo. Thou do'st aduise me,Euen so as I mine owne course haue set downe:Ile giue no blemish to her Honor, none
Cam. My Lord,Goe then; and with a countenance as cleareAs Friendship weares at Feasts, keepe with Bohemia,And with your Queene: I am his Cup-bearer,If from me he haue wholesome Beueridge,Account me not your Seruant
Leo. This is all:Do't, and thou hast the one halfe of my heart;Do't not, thou splitt'st thine owne
Cam. Ile do't, my Lord
Leo. I wil seeme friendly, as thou hast aduis'd me.
Exit
Cam. O miserable Lady. But for me,What case stand I in? I must be the poysonerOf good Polixenes, and my ground to do't,Is the obedience to a Master; one,Who in Rebellion with himselfe, will haueAll that are his, so too. To doe this deed,Promotion followes: If I could find exampleOf thousand's that had struck anoynted Kings,And flourish'd after, Il'd not do't: But sinceNor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one,Let Villanie it selfe forswear't. I mustForsake the Court: to do't, or no, is certaineTo me a breake-neck. Happy Starre raigne now,Here comes Bohemia.Enter Polixenes.
Pol. This is strange: Me thinkesMy fauor here begins to warpe. Not speake?Good day Camillo
Cam. Hayle most Royall Sir
Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court?Cam. None rare (my Lord.)Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance,As he had lost some Prouince, and a RegionLou'd, as he loues himselfe: euen now I met himWith customarie complement, when heeWafting his eyes to th' contrary, and fallingA Lippe of much contempt, speedes from me, andSo leaues me, to consider what is breeding,That changes thus his Manners
Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.)Pol. How, dare not? doe not? doe you know, and dare not?Be intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts:For to your selfe, what you doe know, you must,And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror,Which shewes me mine chang'd too: for I must beA partie in this alteration, findingMy selfe thus alter'd with't
Cam. There is a sicknesseWhich puts some of vs in distemper, butI cannot name the Disease, and it is caughtOf you, that yet are well
Pol. How caught of me?Make me not sighted like the Basilisque.I haue look'd on thousands, who haue sped the betterBy my regard, but kill'd none so: Camillo,As you are certainely a Gentleman, theretoClerke-like experienc'd, which no lesse adornesOur Gentry, then our Parents Noble Names,In whose successe we are gentle: I beseech you,If you know ought which do's behoue my knowledge,Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't notIn ignorant concealement
Cam. I may not answere
Pol. A Sicknesse caught of me, and yet I well?I must be answer'd. Do'st thou heare Camillo,I coniure thee, by all the parts of man,Which Honor do's acknowledge, whereof the leastIs not this Suit of mine, that thou declareWhat incidencie thou do'st ghesse of harmeIs creeping toward me; how farre off, how neere,Which way to be preuented, if to be:If not, how best to beare it
Cam. Sir, I will tell you,Since I am charg'd in Honor, and by himThat I thinke Honorable: therefore marke my counsaile,Which must be eu'n as swiftly followed, asI meane to vtter it; or both your selfe, and me,Cry lost, and so good night
Pol. On, good Camillo
Cam. I am appointed him to murther you
Pol. By whom, Camillo?Cam. By the King
Pol. For what?Cam. He thinkes, nay with all confidence he sweares,As he had seen't, or beene an InstrumentTo vice you to't, that you haue toucht his QueeneForbiddenly
Pol. Oh then, my best blood turneTo an infected Gelly, and my NameBe yoak'd with his, that did betray the Best:Turne then my freshest Reputation toA sauour, that may strike the dullest NosthrillWhere I arriue, and my approch be shun'd,Nay hated too, worse then the great'st InfectionThat ere was heard, or read
Cam. Sweare his thought ouerBy each particular Starre in Heauen, andBy all their Influences; you may as wellForbid the Sea for to obey the Moone,As (or by Oath) remoue, or (Counsaile) shakeThe Fabrick of his Folly, whose foundationIs pyl'd vpon his Faith, and will continueThe standing of his Body
Pol. How should this grow?Cam. I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer toAuoid what's growne, then question how 'tis borne.If therefore you dare trust my honestie,That lyes enclosed in this Trunke, which youShall beare along impawnd, away to Night,Your Followers I will whisper to the Businesse,And will by twoes, and threes, at seuerall Posternes,Cleare them o'th' Citie: For my selfe, Ile putMy fortunes to your seruice (which are hereBy this discouerie lost.) Be not vncertaine,For by the honor of my Parents, IHaue vttred Truth: which if you seeke to proue,I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer,Then one condemnd by the Kings owne mouth:Thereon his Execution sworne
Pol. I doe beleeue thee:I saw his heart in's face. Giue me thy hand,Be Pilot to me, and thy places shallStill neighbour mine. My Ships are ready, andMy people did expect my hence departureTwo dayes agoe. This IealousieIs for a precious Creature: as shee's rare,Must it be great; and, as his Person's mightie,Must it be violent: and, as he do's conceiue,He is dishonor'd by a man, which euerProfess'd to him: why his Reuenges mustIn that be made more bitter. Feare ore-shades me:Good Expedition be my friend, and comfortThe gracious Queene, part of his Theame; but nothingOf his ill-ta'ne suspition. Come Camillo,I will respect thee as a Father, ifThou bear'st my life off, hence: Let vs auoid
Cam. It is in mine authoritie to commandThe Keyes of all the Posternes: Please your HighnesseTo take the vrgent houre. Come Sir, away.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes, Antigonus, Lords.
Her. Take the Boy to you: he so troubles me,'Tis past enduring
Lady. Come (my gracious Lord)Shall I be your play-fellow?Mam. No, Ile none of you
Lady. Why (my sweet Lord?)Mam. You'le kisse me hard, and speake to me, as ifI were a Baby still. I loue you better
2.Lady. And why so (my Lord?)Mam. Not for becauseYour Browes are blacker (yet black-browes they sayBecome some Women best, so that there be notToo much haire there, but in a Cemicircle,Or a halfe-Moone, made with a Pen.)2.Lady. Who taught 'this?Mam. I learn'd it out of Womens faces: pray now,What colour are your eye-browes?Lady. Blew (my Lord.)Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I haue seene a Ladies NoseThat ha's beene blew, but not her eye-browes
Lady. Harke ye,The Queene (your Mother) rounds apace: we shallPresent our seruices to a fine new PrinceOne of these dayes, and then youl'd wanton with vs,If we would haue you
2.Lady. She is spread of lateInto a goodly Bulke (good time encounter her.)Her. What wisdome stirs amongst you? Come Sir, nowI am for you againe: 'Pray you sit by vs,And tell's a Tale
Mam. Merry, or sad, shal't be?Her. As merry as you will
Mam. A sad Tale's best for Winter:I haue one of Sprights, and Goblins
Her. Let's haue that (good Sir.)Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best,To fright me with your Sprights: you're powrefull at it
Mam. There was a man
Her. Nay, come sit downe: then on
Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard: I will tell it softly,Yond Crickets shall not heare it
Her. Come on then, and giu't me in mine eare
Leon. Was hee met there? his Traine? Camillo withhim?Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, neuerSaw I men scowre so on their way: I eyed themEuen to their Ships
Leo. How blest am IIn my iust Censure? in my true Opinion?Alack, for lesser knowledge, how accurs'd,In being so blest? There may be in the CupA Spider steep'd, and one may drinke; depart,And yet partake no venome: (for his knowledgeIs not infected) but if one presentTh' abhor'd Ingredient to his eye, make knowneHow he hath drunke, he cracks his gorge, his sidesWith violent Hefts: I haue drunke, and seene the Spider.Camillo was his helpe in this, his Pandar:There is a Plot against my Life, my Crowne;All's true that is mistrusted: that false Villaine,Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:He ha's discouer'd my Designe, and IRemaine a pinch'd Thing; yea, a very TrickFor them to play at will: how came the PosternesSo easily open?Lord. By his great authority,Which often hath no lesse preuail'd, then so,On your command
Leo. I know't too well.Giue me the Boy, I am glad you did not nurse him:Though he do's beare some signes of me, yet youHaue too much blood in him
Her. What is this? Sport?Leo. Beare the Boy hence, he shall not come about her,Away with him, and let her sport her selfeWith that shee's big-with, for 'tis PolixenesHa's made thee swell thus
Her. But Il'd say he had not;And Ile be sworne you would beleeue my saying,How e're you leane to th' Nay-ward
Leo. You (my Lords)Looke on her, marke her well: be but aboutTo say she is a goodly Lady, andThe iustice of your hearts will thereto adde'Tis pitty shee's not honest: Honorable;Prayse her but for this her without-dore-Forme,(Which on my faith deserues high speech) and straightThe Shrug, the Hum, or Ha, (these Petty-brandsThat Calumnie doth vse; Oh, I am out,That Mercy do's, for Calumnie will seareVertue it selfe) these Shrugs, these Hum's, and Ha's,When you haue said shee's goodly, come betweene,Ere you can say shee's honest: But be't knowne(From him that ha's most cause to grieue it should be)Shee's an Adultresse
Her. Should a Villaine say so,(The most replenish'd Villaine in the World)He were as much more Villaine: you (my Lord)Doe but mistake
Leo. You haue mistooke (my Lady)Polixenes for Leontes: O thou Thing,(Which Ile not call a Creature of thy place,Least Barbarisme (making me the precedent)Should a like Language vse to all degrees,And mannerly distinguishment leaue out,Betwixt the Prince and Begger:) I haue saidShee's an Adultresse, I haue said with whom:More; shee's a Traytor, and Camillo isA Federarie with her, and one that knowesWhat she should shame to know her selfe,But with her most vild Principall: that shee'sA Bed-swaruer, euen as bad as thoseThat Vulgars giue bold'st Titles; I, and priuyTo this their late escape
Her. No (by my life)Priuy to none of this: how will this grieue you,When you shall come to clearer knowledge, thatYou thus haue publish'd me? Gentle my Lord,You scarce can right me throughly, then, to sayYou did mistake
Leo. No: if I mistakeIn those Foundations which I build vpon,The Centre is not bigge enough to beareA Schoole-Boyes Top. Away with her, to Prison:He who shall speake for her, is a farre-off guiltie,But that he speakes
Her. There's some ill Planet raignes:I must be patient, till the Heauens lookeWith an aspect more fauorable. Good my Lords,I am not prone to weeping (as our SexCommonly are) the want of which vaine dewPerchance shall dry your pitties: but I haueThat honorable Griefe lodg'd here, which burnesWorse then Teares drowne: 'beseech you all (my Lords)With thoughts so qualified, as your CharitiesShall best instruct you, measure me; and soThe Kings will be perform'd
Leo. Shall I be heard?Her. Who is't that goes with me? 'beseech your HighnesMy Women may be with me, for you seeMy plight requires it. Doe not weepe (good Fooles)There is no cause: When you shall know your MistrisHa's deseru'd Prison, then abound in Teares,As I come out; this Action I now goe on,Is for my better grace. Adieu (my Lord)I neuer wish'd to see you sorry, nowI trust I shall: my Women come, you haue leaue
Leo. Goe, doe our bidding: hence
Lord. Beseech your Highnesse call the Queene againe
Antig. Be certaine what you do (Sir) least your IusticeProue violence, in the which three great ones suffer,Your Selfe, your Queene, your Sonne
Lord. For her (my Lord)I dare my life lay downe, and will do't (Sir)Please you t' accept it, that the Queene is spotlesseI'th' eyes of Heauen, and to you (I meaneIn this, which you accuse her.)Antig. If it proueShee's otherwise, Ile keepe my Stables whereI lodge my Wife, Ile goe in couples with her:Then when I feele, and see her, no farther trust her:For euery ynch of Woman in the World,I, euery dram of Womans flesh is false,If she be
Leo. Hold your peaces
Lord. Good my Lord
Antig. It is for you we speake, not for our selues:You are abus'd, and by some putter on,That will be damn'd for't: would I knew the Villaine,I would Land-damne him: be she honor-flaw'd,I haue three daughters: the eldest is eleuen;The second, and the third, nine: and some fiue:If this proue true, they'l pay for't. By mine HonorIle gell'd em all: fourteene they shall not seeTo bring false generations: they are co-heyres,And I had rather glib my selfe, then theyShould not produce faire issue
Leo. Cease, no more:You smell this businesse with a sence as coldAs is a dead-mans nose: but I do see't, and feel't,As you feele doing thus: and see withallThe Instruments that feele
Antig. If it be so,We neede no graue to burie honesty,There's not a graine of it, the face to sweetenOf the whole dungy-earth
Leo. What? lacke I credit?Lord. I had rather you did lacke then I (my Lord)Vpon this ground: and more it would content meTo haue her Honor true, then your suspitionBe blam'd for't how you might
Leo. Why what neede weCommune with you of this? but rather followOur forcefull instigation? Our prerogatiueCals not your Counsailes, but our naturall goodnesseImparts this: which, if you, or stupified,Or seeming so, in skill, cannot, or will notRellish a truth, like vs: informe your selues,We neede no more of your aduice: the matter,The losse, the gaine, the ord'ring on't,Is all properly ours
Antig. And I wish (my Liege)You had onely in your silent iudgement tride it,Without more ouerture
Leo. How could that be?Either thou art most ignorant by age,Or thou wer't borne a foole: Camillo's flightAdded to their Familiarity(Which was as grosse, as euer touch'd coniecture,That lack'd sight onely, nought for approbationBut onely seeing, all other circumstancesMade vp to'th deed) doth push-on this proceeding.Yet, for a greater confirmation(For in an Acte of this importance, 'twereMost pitteous to be wilde) I haue dispatch'd in post,To sacred Delphos, to Appollo's Temple,Cleomines and Dion, whom you knowOf stuff'd-sufficiency: Now, from the OracleThey will bring all, whose spirituall counsaile hadShall stop, or spurre me. Haue I done well?Lord. Well done (my Lord.)Leo. Though I am satisfide, and neede no moreThen what I know, yet shall the OracleGiue rest to th' mindes of others; such as heWhose ignorant credulitie, will notCome vp to th' truth. So haue we thought it goodFrom our free person, she should be confinde,Least that the treachery of the two, fled hence,Be left her to performe. Come follow vs,We are to speake in publique: for this businesseWill raise vs all
Antig. To laughter, as I take it,If the good truth, were knowne.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Gaoler, Emilia.
Paul. The Keeper of the prison, call to him:Let him haue knowledge who I am. Good Lady,No Court in Europe is too good for thee,What dost thou then in prison? Now good Sir,You know me, do you not?Gao. For a worthy Lady,And one, who much I honour
Pau. Pray you then,Conduct me to the Queene
Gao. I may not (Madam)To the contrary I haue expresse commandment
Pau. Here's ado, to locke vp honesty & honour fromTh' accesse of gentle visitors. Is't lawfull pray youTo see her Women? Any of them? Emilia?Gao. So please you (Madam)To put a-part these your attendants, IShall bring Emilia forth
Pau. I pray now call her:With-draw your selues
Gao. And Madam,I must be present at your Conference
Pau. Well: be't so: prethee.Heere's such adoe, to make no staine, a staine,As passes colouring. Deare Gentlewoman,How fares our gracious Lady?Emil. As well as one so great, and so forlorneMay hold together: On her frights, and greefes(Which neuer tender Lady hath borne greater)She is, something before her time, deliuer'd
Pau. A boy?Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe,Lusty, and like to liue: the Queene receiuesMuch comfort in't: Sayes, my poore prisoner,I am innocent as you,Pau. I dare be sworne:These dangerous, vnsafe Lunes i'th' King, beshrew them:He must be told on't, and he shall: the officeBecomes a woman best. Ile take't vpon me,If I proue hony-mouth'd, let my tongue blister.And neuer to my red-look'd Anger beeThe Trumpet any more: pray you (Emilia)Commend my best obedience to the Queene,If she dares trust me with her little babe,I'le shew't the King, and vndertake to beeHer Aduocate to th' lowd'st. We do not knowHow he may soften at the sight o'th' Childe:The silence often of pure innocencePerswades, when speaking failes
Emil. Most worthy Madam,Your honor, and your goodnesse is so euident,That your free vndertaking cannot misseA thriuing yssue: there is no Lady liuingSo meete for this great errand; please your LadishipTo visit the next roome, Ile presentlyAcquaint the Queene of your most noble offer,Who, but to day hammered of this designe,But durst not tempt a minister of honourLeast she should be deny'd
Paul. Tell her (Emilia)Ile vse that tongue I haue: If wit flow from'tAs boldnesse from my bosome, le't not be doubtedI shall do good,Emil. Now be you blest for it.Ile to the Queene: please you come something neerer
Gao. Madam, if't please the Queene to send the babe,I know not what I shall incurre, to passe it,Hauing no warrant
Pau. You neede not feare it (sir)This Childe was prisoner to the wombe, and isBy Law and processe of great Nature, thenceFree'd, and enfranchis'd, not a partie toThe anger of the King, nor guilty of(If any be) the trespasse of the Queene
Gao. I do beleeue it
Paul. Do not you feare: vpon mine honor, IWill stand betwixt you, and danger.
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Leontes, Seruants, Paulina, Antigonus, and Lords.
Leo. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but weaknesseTo beare the matter thus: meere weaknesse, ifThe cause were not in being: part o'th cause,She, th' Adultresse: for the harlot-KingIs quite beyond mine Arme, out of the blankeAnd leuell of my braine: plot-proofe: but shee,I can hooke to me: say that she were gone,Giuen to the fire, a moity of my restMight come to me againe. Whose there?Ser. My Lord
Leo. How do's the boy?Ser. He tooke good rest to night: 'tis hop'dHis sicknesse is discharg'd
Leo. To see his Noblenesse,Conceyuing the dishonour of his Mother.He straight declin'd, droop'd, tooke it deeply,Fasten'd, and fix'd the shame on't in himselfe:Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleepe,And down-right languish'd. Leaue me solely: goe,See how he fares: Fie, fie, no thought of him,The very thought of my Reuenges that wayRecoyle vpon me: in himselfe too mightie,And in his parties, his Alliance; Let him be,Vntill a time may serue. For present vengeanceTake it on her: Camillo, and PolixenesLaugh at me: make their pastime at my sorrow:They should not laugh, if I could reach them, norShall she, within my powre.Enter Paulina.
Lord. You must not enter
Paul. Nay rather (good my Lords) be second to me:Feare you his tyrannous passion more (alas)Then the Queenes life? A gracious innocent soule,More free, then he is iealous
Antig. That's enough
Ser. Madam; he hath not slept to night, commandedNone should come at him
Pau. Not so hot (good Sir)I come to bring him sleepe. 'Tis such as youThat creepe like shadowes by him, and do sigheAt each his needlesse heauings: such as youNourish the cause of his awaking. IDo come with words, as medicinall, as true;(Honest, as either;) to purge him of that humor,That presses him from sleepe
Leo. Who noyse there, hoe?Pau. No noyse (my Lord) but needfull conference,About some Gossips for your Highnesse
Leo. How?Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus,I charg'd thee that she should not come about me,I knew she would
Ant. I told her so (my Lord)On your displeasures perill, and on mine,She should not visit you
Leo. What? canst not rule her?Paul. From all dishonestie he can: in this(Vnlesse he take the course that you haue done)Commit me, for committing honor, trust it,He shall not rule me:Ant. La-you now, you heare,When she will take the raine, I let her run,But shee'l not stumble
Paul. Good my Liege, I come:And I beseech you heare me, who professesMy selfe your loyall Seruant, your Physitian,Your most obedient Counsailor: yet that daresLesse appeare so, in comforting your Euilles,Then such as most seeme yours. I say, I comeFrom your good Queene
Leo. Good Queene?Paul. Good Queene (my Lord) good Queene,I say good Queene,And would by combate, make her good so, were IA man, the worst about you
Leo. Force her hence
Pau. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyesFirst hand me: on mine owne accord, Ile off,But first, Ile do my errand. The good Queene(For she is good) hath brought you forth a daughter,Heere 'tis. Commends it to your blessing
Leo. Out:A mankinde Witch? Hence with her, out o' dore:A most intelligencing bawd
Paul. Not so:I am as ignorant in that, as you,In so entit'ling me: and no lesse honestThen you are mad: which is enough, Ile warrant(As this world goes) to passe for honest:Leo. Traitors;Will you not push her out? Giue her the Bastard,Thou dotard, thou art woman-tyr'd: vnroostedBy thy dame Partlet heere. Take vp the Bastard,Take't vp, I say: giue't to thy Croane
Paul. For euerVnvenerable be thy hands, if thouTak'st vp the Princesse, by that forced basenesseWhich he ha's put vpon't
Leo. He dreads his Wife
Paul. So I would you did: then 'twere past all doubtYoul'd call your children, yours
Leo. A nest of Traitors
Ant. I am none, by this good light
Pau. Nor I: nor anyBut one that's heere: and that's himselfe: for he,The sacred Honor of himselfe, his Queenes,His hopefull Sonnes, his Babes, betrayes to Slander,Whose sting is sharper then the Swords; and will not(For as the case now stands, it is a CurseHe cannot be compell'd too't) once remoueThe Root of his Opinion, which is rotten,As euer Oake, or Stone was sound
Leo. A CallatOf boundlesse tongue, who late hath beat her Husband,And now bayts 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
Paul. It is yours:And might we lay th' old Prouerb to your charge,So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold (my Lords)Although the Print be little, the whole MatterAnd Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Nose, Lippe,The trick of's Frowne, his Fore-head, nay, the Valley,The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke; his Smiles:The very Mold, and frame of Hand, Nayle, Finger.)And thou good Goddesse Nature, which hast made itSo like to him that got it, if thou hastThe ordering of the Mind too, 'mongst all ColoursNo Yellow in't, least she suspect, as he do's,Her Children, not her Husbands
Leo. A grosse Hagge:And Lozell, thou art worthy to be hang'd,That wilt not stay her Tongue
Antig. Hang all the HusbandsThat cannot doe that Feat, you'le leaue your selfeHardly one Subiect
Leo. Once more take her hence
Paul. A most vnworthy, and vnnaturall LordCan doe no more
Leo. Ile ha' thee burnt
Paul. I care not:It is an Heretique that makes the fire,Not she which burnes in't. Ile not call you Tyrant:But this most cruell vsage of your Queene(Not able to produce more accusationThen your owne weake-hindg'd Fancy) something sauorsOf Tyrannie, and will ignoble make you,Yea, scandalous to the World
Leo. On your Allegeance,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 doe not push me, Ile be gone.Looke to your Babe (my Lord) 'tis yours: Ioue send herA better guiding Spirit. What needs these hands?You that are thus so tender o're his Follyes,Will neuer doe him good, not one of you.So, so: Farewell, we are gone.Enter.
Leo. Thou (Traytor) hast set on thy Wife to this.My Child? away with't? euen thou, that hastA heart so tender o're it, take it hence,And see it instantly consum'd with fire.Euen thou, and none but thou. Take it vp straight:Within this houre bring me word 'tis done,(And by good testimonie) or Ile seize thy life,With what thou else call'st thine: if thou refuse,And wilt encounter with my Wrath, say so;The Bastard-braynes with these my proper handsShall I dash out. Goe, take it to the fire,For thou sett'st on thy Wife
Antig. I did not, Sir:These Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they please,Can cleare me in't
Lords. We can: my Royall Liege,He is not guiltie of her comming hither
Leo. You're lyers all
Lord. Beseech your Highnesse, giue vs better credit:We haue alwayes truly seru'd you, and beseech'So to esteeme of vs: and on our knees we begge,(As recompence of our deare seruicesPast, and to come) that you doe change this purpose,Which being so horrible, so bloody, mustLead on to some foule Issue. We all kneele
Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows:Shall I liue on, to see this Bastard kneele,And call me Father? better burne it now,Then curse it then. But be it: let it liue.It shall not neyther. You Sir, come you hither:You that haue beene so tenderly officiousWith Lady Margerie, your Mid-wife there,To saue this Bastards life; for 'tis a Bastard,So sure as this Beard's gray. What will you aduenture,To saue this Brats life?Antig. Any thing (my Lord)That my abilitie may vndergoe,And Noblenesse impose: at least thus much;Ile pawne the little blood which I haue left,To saue the Innocent: any thing possible
Leo. It shall be possible: Sweare by this SwordThou wilt performe my bidding
Antig. I will (my Lord.)Leo. Marke, and performe it: seest thou? for the faileOf any point in't, shall not onely beDeath to thy selfe, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife,(Whom for this time we pardon) We enioyne thee,As thou art Liege-man to vs, that thou carryThis female Bastard hence, and that thou beare itTo some remote and desart place, quite outOf our Dominions; and that there thou leaue it(Without more mercy) to it owne protection,And fauour of the Climate: as by strange fortuneIt came to vs, I doe in Iustice charge thee,On thy Soules perill, and thy Bodyes torture,That thou commend it strangely to some place,Where Chance may nurse, or end it: take it vp
Antig. I sweare to doe this: though a present deathHad beene more mercifull. Come on (poore Babe)Some powerfull Spirit instruct the Kytes and RauensTo be thy Nurses. Wolues and Beares, they say,(Casting their sauagenesse aside) haue doneLike offices of Pitty. Sir, be prosperousIn more then this deed do's require; and BlessingAgainst this Crueltie, fight on thy side(Poore Thing, condemn'd to losse.)Enter.
Leo. No: Ile not reareAnothers Issue.Enter a Seruant.
Seru. Please' your Highnesse, PostsFrom those you sent to th' Oracle, are comeAn houre since: Cleomines and Dion,Being well arriu'd from Delphos, are both landed,Hasting to th' Court
Lord. So please you (Sir) their speedHath beene beyond accompt
Leo. Twentie three dayesThey haue beene absent: 'tis good speed: fore-tellsThe great Apollo suddenly will haueThe truth of this appeare: Prepare you Lords,Summon a Session, that we may arraigneOur most disloyall Lady: for as she hathBeen publikely accus'd, so shall she haueA iust and open Triall. While she liues,My heart will be a burthen to me. Leaue me,And thinke vpon my bidding.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Cleomines and Dion.
Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre most sweet,Fertile the Isle, the Temple much surpassingThe common prayse it beares
Dion. I shall report,For most it caught me, the Celestiall Habits,(Me thinkes I so should terme them) and the reuerenceOf the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice,How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthlyIt was i'th' Offring?Cleo. But of all, the burstAnd the eare-deaff'ning Voyce o'th' Oracle,Kin to Ioues Thunder, so surpriz'd my Sence,That I was nothing
Dio. If th' euent o'th' IourneyProue as successefull to the Queene (O be't so)As it hath beene to vs, rare, pleasant, speedie,The time is worth the vse on't
Cleo. Great ApolloTurne all to th' best: these Proclamations,So forcing faults vpon Hermione,I little like
Dio. The violent carriage of itWill cleare, or end the Businesse, when the Oracle(Thus by Apollo's great Diuine seal'd vp)Shall the Contents discouer: something rareEuen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horses,And gracious be the issue.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers: Hermione (as to her Triall) Ladies:Cleomines, Dion.
Leo. This Sessions (to our great griefe we pronounce)Euen pushes 'gainst our heart. The partie try'd,The Daughter of a King, our Wife, and oneOf vs too much belou'd. Let vs be clear'dOf being tyrannous, since we so openlyProceed in Iustice, which shall haue due course,Euen to the Guilt, or the Purgation:Produce the Prisoner
Officer. It is his Highnesse pleasure, that the QueeneAppeare in person, here in Court. Silence
Leo. Reade the Indictment
Officer. Hermione, Queene 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 Soueraigne Lord the King, thy Royall Husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly layd open, thou (Hermione) contrary to the Faith and Allegeance of a true Subiect, didst counsaile and ayde them, for their better safetie, to flye away by Night
Her. Since what I am to say, must be but thatWhich contradicts my Accusation, andThe testimonie on my part, no otherBut what comes from my selfe, it shall scarce boot meTo say, Not guiltie: mine IntegritieBeing counted Falsehood, shall (as I expresse it)Be so receiu'd. But thus, if Powres DiuineBehold our humane Actions (as they doe)I doubt not then, but Innocence shall makeFalse Accusation blush, and TyrannieTremble at Patience. You (my Lord) best know(Whom least will seeme to doe so) my past lifeHath beene as continent, as chaste, as true,As I am now vnhappy; which is moreThen Historie can patterne, though deuis'd,And play'd, to take Spectators. For behold me,A Fellow of the Royall Bed, which oweA Moitie of the Throne: a great Kings Daughter,The Mother to a hopefull Prince, here standingTo prate and talke for Life, and Honor, foreWho please to come, and heare. For Life, I prize itAs I weigh Griefe (which I would spare:) For Honor,'Tis a deriuatiue from me to mine,And onely that I stand for. I appealeTo your owne Conscience (Sir) before PolixenesCame to your Court, how I was in your grace,How merited to be so: Since he came,With what encounter so vncurrant, IHaue strayn'd t' appeare thus; if one iot beyondThe bound of Honor, or in act, or willThat way enclining, hardned be the heartsOf all that heare me, and my neer'st of KinCry fie vpon my Graue
Leo. I ne're heard yet,That any of these bolder Vices wantedLesse Impudence to gaine-say what they did,Then to performe it first
Her. That's true enough,Though 'tis a saying (Sir) not due to me
Leo. You will not owne it
Her. More then Mistresse of,Which comes to me in name of Fault, I must notAt all acknowledge. For Polixenes(With whom I am accus'd) I doe confesseI lou'd him, as in Honor he requir'd:With such a kind of Loue, as might becomeA Lady like me; with a Loue, euen such,So, and no other, as your selfe commanded:Which, not to haue done, I thinke had been in meBoth Disobedience, and IngratitudeTo you, and toward your Friend, whose Loue had spoke,Euen since it could speake, from an Infant, freely,That it was yours. Now for Conspiracie,I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'dFor me to try how: All I know of it,Is, that Camillo was an honest man;And why he left your Court, the Gods themselues(Wotting no more then I) are ignorant
Leo. You knew of his departure, as you knowWhat you haue vnderta'ne to doe in's absence
Her. Sir,You speake a Language that I vnderstand not:My Life stands in the leuell of your Dreames,Which Ile lay downe
Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.You had a Bastard by Polixenes,And I but dream'd it: As you were past all shame,(Those of your Fact are so) so past all truth;Which to deny, concernes more then auailes: for asThy Brat hath been cast out, like to it selfe,No Father owning it (which is indeedMore criminall in thee, then it) so thouShalt feele our Iustice; in whose easiest passage,Looke for no lesse then death
Her. Sir, spare your Threats:The Bugge which you would fright me with, I seeke:To me can Life be no commoditie;The crowne and comfort of my Life (your Fauor)I doe giue lost, for I doe feele it gone,But know not how it went. My second Ioy,And first Fruits of my body, from his presenceI am bar'd, like one infectious. My third comfort(Star'd most vnluckily) is from my breast(The innocent milke in it most innocent mouth)Hal'd out to murther. My selfe on euery PostProclaym'd a Strumpet: With immodest hatredThe Child-bed priuiledge deny'd, which longsTo Women of all fashion. Lastly, hurriedHere, to this place, i'th' open ayre, beforeI haue got strength of limit. Now (my Liege)Tell me what blessings I haue here aliue,That I should feare to die? Therefore proceed:But yet heare this: mistake me not: no Life,(I prize it not a straw) but for mine Honor,Which I would free: if I shall be condemn'dVpon surmizes (all proofes sleeping else,But what your Iealousies awake) I tell you'Tis Rigor, and not Law. Your Honors all,I doe referre me to the Oracle:Apollo be my Iudge
Lord. This your requestIs altogether iust: therefore bring forth(And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle
Her. The Emperor of Russia was my Father.Oh that he were aliue, and here beholdingHis Daughters Tryall: that he did but seeThe flatnesse of my miserie; yet with eyesOf Pitty, not Reuenge
Officer. You here shal sweare vpon this Sword of Iustice,That you (Cleomines and Dion) haueBeen both at Delphos, and from thence haue broughtThis seal'd-vp Oracle, by the Hand deliuer'dOf great Apollo's Priest; and that since then,You haue not dar'd to breake the holy Seale,Nor read the Secrets in't
Cleo. Dio. All this we sweare
Leo. Breake vp the Seales, and read
Officer. Hermione is chast, Polixenes blamelesse, Camillo a true Subiect, Leontes a iealous Tyrant, his innocent Babe truly begotten, and the King shall liue without an Heire, if that which is lost, be not found
Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo
Her. Praysed
Leo. Hast thou read truth?Offic. I (my Lord) euen so as it is here set downe
Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle:The Sessions shall proceed: this is meere falsehood
Ser. My Lord the King: the King?Leo. What is the businesse?Ser. O Sir, I shall be hated to report it.The Prince your Sonne, with meere conceit, and feareOf the Queenes speed, is gone
Leo. How? gone?Ser. Is dead
Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heauens themseluesDoe strike at my Iniustice. How now there?Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene: Look downeAnd see what Death is doing
Leo. Take her hence:Her heart is but o're-charg'd: she will recouer.I haue too much beleeu'd mine owne suspition:'Beseech you tenderly apply to herSome remedies for life. Apollo pardonMy great prophanenesse 'gainst thine Oracle.Ile reconcile me to Polixenes,New woe my Queene, recall the good Camillo(Whom I proclaime a man of Truth, of Mercy:)For being transported by my IealousiesTo bloody thoughts, and to reuenge, I choseCamillo for the minister, to poysonMy friend Polixenes: which had been done,But that the good mind of Camillo tardiedMy swift command: though I with Death, and withReward, did threaten and encourage him,Not doing it, and being done: he (most humane,And fill'd with Honor) to my Kingly GuestVnclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here(Which you knew great) and to the hazardOf all Incertainties, himselfe commended,No richer then his Honor: How he glistersThrough my Rust? and how his PietieDo's my deeds make the blacker?Paul. Woe the while:O cut my Lace, least my heart (cracking it)Breake too
Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?Paul. What studied torments (Tyrant) hast for me?What Wheeles? Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling?In Leads, or Oyles? What old, or newer TortureMust I receiue? whose euery word deseruesTo taste of thy most worst. Thy Tyranny(Together working with thy Iealousies,Fancies too weake for Boyes, too greene and idleFor Girles of Nine) O thinke what they haue done,And then run mad indeed: starke-mad: for allThy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.That thou betrayed'st Polixenes, 'twas nothing,(That did but shew thee, of a Foole, inconstant,And damnable ingratefull:) Nor was't much.Thou would'st haue poyson'd good Camillo's Honor,To haue him kill a King: poore Trespasses,More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckonThe casting forth to Crowes, thy Baby-daughter,To be or none, or little; though a DeuillWould haue shed water out of fire, ere don't;Nor is't directly layd to thee, the deathOf the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heartThat could conceiue a grosse and foolish SireBlemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,Layd to thy answere: but the last: O Lords,When I haue said, cry woe: the Queene, the Queene,The sweet'st, deer'st creature's dead: & vengeance for'tNot drop'd downe yet
Lord. The higher powres forbid
Pau. I say she's dead: Ile swear't. If word, nor oathPreuaile not, go and see: if you can bringTincture, or lustre in her lip, her eyeHeate outwardly, or breath within, Ile serue youAs I would do the Gods. But, O thou Tyrant,Do not repent these things, for they are heauierThen all thy woes can stirre: therefore betake theeTo nothing but dispaire. A thousand knees,Ten thousand yeares together, naked, fasting,Vpon a barren Mountaine, and still WinterIn storme perpetuall, could not moue the GodsTo looke that way thou wer't
Leo. Go on, go on:Thou canst not speake too much, I haue deseru'dAll tongues to talke their bittrest
Lord. Say no more;How ere the businesse goes, you haue made faultI'th boldnesse of your speech
Pau. I am sorry for't;All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,I do repent: Alas, I haue shew'd too muchThe rashnesse of a woman: he is touchtTo th' Noble heart. What's gone, and what's past helpeShould be past greefe: Do not receiue afflictionAt my petition; I beseech you, ratherLet me be punish'd, that haue minded youOf what you should forget. Now (good my Liege)Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue a foolish woman:The loue I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe)Ile speake of her no more, nor of your Children:Ile not remember you of my owne Lord,(Who is lost too:) take your patience to you,And Ile say nothing
Leo. Thou didst speake but well,When most the truth: which I receyue much better,Then to be pittied of thee. Prethee bring meTo the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne,One graue shall be for both: Vpon them shallThe causes of their death appeare (vntoOur shame perpetuall) once a day, Ile visitThe Chappell where they lye, and teares shed thereShall be my recreation. So long as NatureWill beare vp with this exercise, so longI dayly vow to vse it. Come, and leade meTo these sorrowes.
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.
Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vponThe Desarts of Bohemia
Mar. I (my Lord) and feareWe haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,And threaten present blusters. In my conscienceThe heauens with that we haue in hand, are angry,And frowne vpon's
Ant. Their sacred wil's be done: go get a-boord,Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long beforeI call vpon thee
Mar. Make your best haste, and go notToo-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather,Besides this place is famous for the CreaturesOf prey, that keepe vpon't
Antig. Go thou away,Ile follow instantly
Mar. I am glad at heartTo be so ridde o'th businesse.
Exit
Ant. Come, poore babe;I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o'th' deadMay walke againe: if such thing be, thy MotherAppear'd to me last night: for ne're was dreameSo like a waking. To me comes a creature,Sometimes her head on one side, some another,I neuer saw a vessell of like sorrowSo fill'd, and so becomming: in pure white RobesLike very sanctity she did approachMy Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,And (gasping to begin some speech) her eyesBecame two spouts; the furie spent, anonDid this breake from her. Good Antigonus,Since Fate (against thy better disposition)Hath made thy person for the Thrower-outOf my poore babe, according to thine oath,Places remote enough are in Bohemia,There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babeIs counted lost for euer, PerditaI prethee call't: For this vngentle businessePut on thee, by my Lord, thou ne're shalt seeThy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shriekesShe melted into Ayre. Affrighted much,I did in time collect my selfe, and thoughtThis was so, and no slumber: Dreames, are toyes,Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,I will be squar'd by this. I do beleeueHermione hath suffer'd death, and thatApollo would (this being indeede the issueOf King Polixenes) it should heere be laide(Either for life, or death) vpon the earthOf it's right Father. Blossome, speed thee well,There lye, and there thy charracter: there these,Which may if Fortune please, both breed thee (pretty)And still rest thine. The storme beginnes, poore wretch,That for thy mothers fault, art thus expos'dTo losse, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot,But my heart bleedes: and most accurst am ITo be by oath enioyn'd to this. Farewell,The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like to haueA lullabie too rough: I neuer sawThe heauens so dim, by day. A sauage clamor?Well may I get a-boord: This is the Chace,I am gone for euer.
Exit pursued by a Beare.
Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten and three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wenches with childe, wronging the Auncientry, stealing, fighting, hearke you now: would any but these boyldebraines of nineteene, and two and twenty hunt this weather? They haue scarr'd away two of my best Sheepe, which I feare the Wolfe will sooner finde then the Maister; if any where I haue them, 'tis by the sea-side, brouzing of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A boy, or a Childe I wonder? (A pretty one, a verie prettie one) sure some Scape; Though I am not bookish, yet I can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this has beene some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some behinde-doore worke: they were warmer that got this, then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet Ile tarry till my sonne come: he hallow'd but euen now. Whoa-ho-hoa. Enter Clowne.
Clo. Hilloa, loa
Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing to talke on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither: what ayl'st thou, man? Clo. I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land: but I am not to say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, betwixt the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins point
Shep. Why boy, how is it? Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes vp the shore, but that's not to the point: Oh, the most pitteous cry of the poore soules, sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Shippe boaring the Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a Corke into a hogshead. And then for the Land-seruice, to see how the Beare tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cride to mee for helpe, and said his name was Antigonus, a Nobleman: But to make an end of the Ship, to see how the Sea flapdragon'd it: but first, how the poore soules roared, and the sea mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roared, and the Beare mock'd him, both roaring lowder then the sea, or weather
Shep. Name of mercy, when was this boy?Clo. Now, now: I haue not wink'd since I saw thesesights: the men are not yet cold vnder water, nor theBeare halfe din'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now
Shep. Would I had bin by, to haue help'd the oldeman
Clo. I would you had beene by the ship side, to hauehelp'd her; there your charity would haue lack'd footing
Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke thee heere boy. Now blesse thy selfe: thou met'st with things dying, I with things new borne. Here's a sight for thee: Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires childe: looke thee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open't: so, let's see, it was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is some Changeling: open't: what's within, boy? Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the sinnes of your youth are forgiuen you, you're well to liue. Golde, all Gold
Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp with't, keepe it close: home, home, the next way. We are luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing but secrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy) the next way home
Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go see if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and how much he hath eaten: they are neuer curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it
Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayest discerne by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him
Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put himi'th' ground
Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee'l do good deedson't.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Time, the Chorus.
Time. I that please some, try all: both ioy and terrorOf good, and bad: that makes, and vnfolds error,Now take vpon me (in the name of Time)To vse my wings: Impute it not a crimeTo me, or my swift passage, that I slideOre sixteene yeeres, and leaue the growth vntrideOf that wide gap, since it is in my powreTo orethrow Law, and in one selfe-borne howreTo plant, and orewhelme Custome. Let me passeThe same I am, ere ancient'st Order was,Or what is now receiu'd. I witnesse toThe times that brought them in, so shall I doTo th' freshest things now reigning, and make staleThe glistering of this present, as my TaleNow seemes to it: your patience this allowing,I turne my glasse, and giue my Scene such growingAs you had slept betweene: Leontes leauingTh' effects of his fond iealousies, so greeuingThat he shuts vp himselfe. Imagine me(Gentle Spectators) that I now may beIn faire Bohemia, and remember well,I mentioned a sonne o'th' Kings, which FlorizellI now name to you: and with speed so paceTo speake of Perdita, now growne in graceEquall with wond'ring. What of her insuesI list not prophesie: but let Times newesBe knowne when 'tis brought forth. A shepherds daughterAnd what to her adheres, which followes after,Is th' argument of Time: of this allow,If euer you haue spent time worse, ere now:If neuer, yet that Time himselfe doth say,He wishes earnestly, you neuer may.Enter.