Leo.
Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but weakness
To bear the matter thus; mere weakness, if
The cause were not in being;—part o'the cause,
She, the adultress;—for the harlot king

Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank^{6 note}

And level of my brain, plot-proof: but she
I can hook to me: Say, that she were gone,
Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest
Might come to me again.—Who's there? Enter an Attendant.

Atten.
My lord?

Leo.
How does the boy?

Atten.
He took good rest to-night; 'tis hop'd,
His sickness is discharg'd.

Leo.
To see his nobleness!
Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,
He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply;
Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself;
Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,
And down-right languish'd.—Leave me solely: go, [Exit Attendant.
See how he fares.—Fye, fye! no thought of him;—
The very thought of my revenges that way
Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty;
And in his parties, his alliance,—Let him be,
Until a time may serve: for present vengeance,
Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes
Laugh at me; make their pastime at my sorrow:
They should not laugh, if I could reach them; nor
Shall she, within my power. Enter Paulina, with a child.

Lord.
You must not enter.

Paul.
Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me:
Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,

Than the queen's life? a gracious innocent soul;
More free, than he is jealous.

Ant.
That's enough.

Atten.
Madam, he hath not slept to-night; commanded
None should come at him.

Paul.
Not so hot, good sir;
I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you,—
That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh
At each his needless heavings,—such as you
Nourish the cause of his awaking: I
Do come with words as med'cinal as true;
Honest, as either; to purge him of that humour,
That presses him from sleep.9Q0464

Leo.
What noise there, ho?

Paul.
No noise, my lord; but needful conference,
About some gossips for your highness.

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 displeasure's peril, and on mine,
She should not visit you.

Leo.
What, can'st not rule her?

Paul.
From all dishonesty, he can: in this,
(Unless he take the course that you have done,
Commit me, for committing honour) trust it,
He shall not rule me.

Ant.
Lo you now; you hear!
When she will take the rein, I let her run;
But she'll not stumble.

Paul.
Good my liege, I come,—
And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess
Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dares
Less appear so, in comforting your evils,
Than such as most seem yours:—I say, I come

From your good queen.

Leo.
Good queen!

Paul.
Good queen, my lord, good queen! I say, good queen;
And would by combat make her good, so were I^{7 note}

Leo.
Force her hence.

Paul.
Let him, that makes but trifles of his eyes,
First hand me: on mine own accord, I'll off;
But, first, I'll do my errand.—The good queen,
For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter;
Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. [Laying down the child.

Leo.
Out!
A mankind witch^{8 note}

A most intelligencing bawd!

Paul.
Not so:
I am as ignorant in that, as you
In so intitling me: and no less honest
Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant,
As this world goes, to pass for honest.

Leo.
Traitors!
Will you not push her out? give her the bastard:— [To Antigonus.
Thou, dotard, thou art woman-tyr'd^{9 note}

Paul.
For ever
Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak'st up the princess, by that forced baseness^{2 note}

Which he has put upon't!

Leo.
He dreads his wife.

Paul.
So, I would, you did; then, 'twere past all doubt,
You'd call your children yours.

Leo.
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.

Leo.
A callat,
Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her husband,
And not 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.

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; his smiles^{3 note};
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^{4 note}

Leo.
A gross hag!—
^{5 note}

Ant.
Hang all the husbands,
That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.

Leo.
Once more, take her hence.

Paul.
A most unworthy and unnatural lord
Can do no more.

Leo.
I'll have thee burnt.

Paul.
I care not:
It is an heretick, that makes the fire,
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 favours
Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,
Yea, scandalous to the world.

Leo.
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,
Will never do him good, not one of you.
So, so:—Farewel; we are gone. [Exit.

Leo.
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.

Lord.
We can; my royal liege,
He is not guilty of her coming hither.

Leo.
You are liars all.

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 recompence 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.

Leo.
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 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.

Leo.
It shall be possible: Swear by this sword^{6 note}

Ant.
I will, my lord.

Leo.
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^{7 note},
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 does require! and blessing,
Against this cruelty, fight on thy side
Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! [Exit, with the child

Leo.
No, I'll not rear
Another's issue. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
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.

Lord.
So please you, sir, their speed
Hath been beyond account.

Leo.
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. Leave me;
And think upon my bidding. [Exeunt.

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