Cleo.
The climate's delicate; the air most sweet;
Fertile the isle^{8 note}

Dion.
I shall report^{9 note}

(Methinks, I so should term them) and the reverence
Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly
It was i'the offering!

Cleo.
But, of all, the burst
And the ear-deafning voice o'the oracle,
Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpriz'd my sense,
That I was nothing.

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^{1 note}

Cleo.
Great Apollo,
Turn all to the best! These proclamations,
So forcing faults upon Hermione,
I little like.

Dion.
The violent carriage of it
Will clear, or end, the business: When the oracle,
(Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up)
Shall the contents discover, something rare,
Even then will rush to knowledge.—Go,—fresh horses;—
And gracious be the issue! [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Court of Justice. Leontes, Lords, and Officers, appear properly seated.

Leo.
This session (to our great grief, we pronounce)
Even pushes 'gainst our heart: The party try'd,
The daughter of a king; our wife; and one
Of us too much belov'd.—Let us be clear'd
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
Proceed in justice; which shall have due course,
Even to the guilt, or the purgation^{2 note}.—
Produce the prisoner.

Offi.
It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen
Appear in person here in court.—Silence! Hermione is brought in, guarded; Paulina and Ladies, attending.

Leo.
Read the indictment. Offi.

Hermione, queen 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 sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband: the pretence^{3 note} whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.

Her.
Since what I am to say, must be that
Which contradicts my accusation; and
The testimony on my part, no other
But what comes from myself; it shall scarce boot me
To say, Not guilty: mine integrity^{4 note},
Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
Be so receiv'd. But thus,—If powers divine
Behold our human actions, (as they do)
I doubt not then, but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience.—You, my lord, best know,
(Who least will seem to do so) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devis'd,
And play'd, to take spectators: For behold me,—
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince,—here standing,
To prate and talk for life, and honour, 'fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it^{5 note}
As I weigh grief, which I would spare^{6 note}: for honour,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine^{7 note},
And only that I stand for. I appeal
To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes

Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so: Since he came,
With what encounter 9Q0466 so uncurrent I^{8 note}

Leo.
I ne'er heard yet,

That any of these bolder vices wanted^{9 note}



Less impudence to gain-say what they did,
Than to perform it first.

Her.
That's true enough;
Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

Leo.
You will not own it.

Her.
More than mistress of,
Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,
(With whom I am accus'd) I do confess,
I lov'd him, as in honour he requir'd;
With such a kind of love, as might become
A lady like me; with a love, even such,
So, and no other, as yourself commanded:
Which not to have done, I think, had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude,
To you, and towards your friend; whose love had spoke,
Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,
I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd
For me to try how: all I know of it,
Is, that Camillo was an honest man;
And, why he left your court, the gods themselves,
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

Leo.
You knew of his departure, as you know
What you have underta'en to do in his absence.

Her.
Sir,
You speak a language that I understand not:
My life stands in the level of your dreams^{1 note},
Which I'll lay down.

Leo.
Your actions are my dreams;
You had a bastard by Polixenes,
And I but dream'd it:—As you were past all shame^{2 note}

Her.
Sir, spare your threats;
The bug, which you will fright me with, I seek.
To me can life be no commodity:
The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,
I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
But know not how it went: My second joy,

And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
I am barr'd, like one infectious: My third comfort,
^{3 note}Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Hal'd out to murder: Myself on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege deny'd, which 'longs
To women of all fashion;—Lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i'the open air, before
I have got strength of limit^{4 note}

Lord.
This your request
Is altogether just: therefore, bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his oracle.

Her.
The emperor of Russia was my father:
Oh, that he were alive, and here beholding
His daughter's trial! that he did but fee
The flatness of my misery^{5 note}

Offi.
You here shall swear upon the sword of justice,
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
Been both at Delphos; and from thence have brought
This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd
Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then,
You have not dar'd to break the holy seal,
Nor read the secrets in't.

Cleo. Dion
All this we swear.

Leo.
Break up the seals, and read. Offi.

Hermione is chaste, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that, which is lost, be not found.

Lords.
Now blessed be the great Apollo!

Her.
Praised!

Leo.
Hast thou read truth?

Offi.
Ay, my lord; even so as it is here set down.

Leo.
There is no truth at all i'the oracle:
The session shall proceed; this is mere falsehood. Enter Servant.

Ser.
My lord the king, the king!—

Leo.
What is the business?

Ser.
O sir, I shall be hated to report it:
The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
Of the queen's speed^{6 note}, is gone.

Leo.
How! gone?

Ser.
Is dead.

Leo.
Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves
Do strike at my injustice,—How now there? [Hermione faints.

Paul.
This news is mortal to the queen:—Look down,
And see what death is doing.

Leo.
Take her hence:
Her heart is but o'er-charg'd; she will recover.— [Exeunt Paulina and ladies, with Hermione.
I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion:—
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life.—Apollo, pardon
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 tardy'd
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
Through my dark rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker^{7 note}!

Re-enter Paulina.

Paul.
Woe the while!
O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it,
Break too!

Lord.
What fit is this, good lady?

Paul.
What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
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 shew thee, of a fool, inconstant^{8 note}