Her.
Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,
'Tis past enduring.

1st Lady.
Come, my gracious lord,
Shall I be your play-fellow?

Mam.
No, I'll none of you;
I love you better.

2nd Lady.
And why so, my good lord?

Mam.
Not for because
Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say,
Become some women best.

2nd Lady.
Who taught you this?

Mam.
I learn'd it out of women's faces. Pray now
What colour are your eye-brows?

1st Lady.
Blue, my lord.

Mam.
Nay, that's a mock. I have seen a lady's nose
That has been blue, but not her eye-brows.

2nd Lady.
Hark ye:
We shall present our services to a fine new prince,
One of these days; and then you'd play with us,
If we would have you.

Her.
What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now
I am for you again. Pray you, sit by us,
And tell's a tale.

Mam.
Merry, or sad, shall't be?

Her.
As merry as you will.

Mam.
As sad tale's best for winter:^{1 note}
I have one of sprites and goblins.

Her.
Let's have that, sir.
Come on, sit down.—Come on, and do your best
To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it.

Mam.
There was a man,—

Her.
Nay, come, sit down; then on.

Mam.
Dwelt by a grave-yard;—I will tell it softly;
Yon crickets shall not hear it.

Her.
Come on, then,
And give't me in mine ear. Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and Attendants.

Leon.
Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him?

1st Lord.
Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never
Saw I men scour so on their way: I ey'd them
Even to their ships.

Leon.
How bless'd am I
In my just censure!^{2 note} in my true opinion!—
Alack, for lesser knowledge!^{3 note}—How accurs'd,
In being so blest!—
Camillo was his help in this, his pander:—
There is a plot against my life, my crown;
All's true that is mistrusted:—that false villain,
Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:
He has discover'd my design, and I
Remain a pinch'd thing;^{4 note} yea, a very trick
For them to play at will.—How came the posterns
So easily open?

1st Lord.
By his great authority;
Which often hath no less prevail'd than so,
On your command.

Leon.
I know't too well.—
Give me the boy; I am glad you did not nurse him:
Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you
Have too much blood in him.

Her.
What is this? sport?

Leon.
Bear the boy hence, he shall not come about her;
Away with him. [Exeunt Second Lord, with Mamillius.
Look on her, mark her well; be but about
To say, she is a goodly lady, and
The justice of your hearts will thereto add,
'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:
Praise her but for this her without-door form,
(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech), and straight
The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands
That calumny doth use; for calumny will sear
Virtue itself:^{5 note} these shrugs, these hums, and ha's,
When you have said, she's goodly, come between,
Ere you can say she's honest. But be it known,
From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,
She's an adultress.

Her.
Should a villain say so,
The most replenish'd villain in the world,
He were as much more villain; you, my lord,
Do but mistake.

Leon.
You have mistook, my lady,
Polixenes for Leontes. O thou thing,
Which I'll not call a creature of thy place,
Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,
Should a like language use to all degrees,
And mannerly distinguishment leave out
Betwixt the prince and beggar! I have said
She's an adultress; I have said with whom:
More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is
A federary^{6 note} with her; ay, and privy
To this their late escape.

Her.
No. by my life,
Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,
When you shall come to clearer knowledge that
You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord,
You scarce can right me throughly then, to say
You did mistake.

Leon.
No, no; if I mistake
In those foundations which I build upon,
The centre^{7 note} is not big enough to bear
A schoolboy's top.—Away with her to prison:
He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty,^{8 note}
But that he speaks.

Her.
There's some ill planet reigns;
I must be patient, till the heavens look
With an aspéct more favourable:^{9 note}
Good my lords,
I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew,
Perchance, shall dry your pities; but I have
That honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns
Worse than tears drown. 'Beseech you all, my lords,
With thoughts so qualified as your charities
Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
The king's will be perform'd!

Leon.
Shall I be heard? [To the attendants.

Her.
Who is't that goes with me?—'beseech your highness,
My women may be with me, for you know
My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools;
There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress
Has deserv'd prison, then abound in tears.
This action I now go on,

Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord:
I never wish'd to see you sorry; now,
I trust, I shall.—My women, come; you have leave.

Leon.
Go, do our bidding; hence! [Exeunt Queen and Ladies.

2nd Lord.
'Beseech your highness, call the queen again.

Ant.
Be certain what you do, sir; lest your justice
Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer,
Yourself, your queen, your son.

2nd Lord.
For her, my lord,
I dare my life lay down, and will do't sir,
Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless.

Leon.
Hold your peaces.

Ant.
It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:
You are abus'd, and by some putter-on^{10 note}
That will be damn'd for't. Be she honour-flaw'd.—
I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven;
The second, and the third, nine, and some five:^{11 note}
If this prove true, they'll pay for't;
By mine honour, fourteen they shall not see,
To bring false generations.

Leon.
Cease; no more.
You smell this business with a sense as cold
As is a dead man's nose: I see't, and feel't,
As you feel doing thus; and see withal
The instruments that feel.

Ant.
If it be so,
We need no grave to bury honesty;
There's not a grain of it.

Leon.
What! lack I credit?

Ant.
I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,
Upon this ground: and more it would content me
To have her honour true, than your suspicion,
Be blam'd for't how you might.

Leon.
Either thou art most ignorant by age,
Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,

Added to their familiarity,
(Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture),
Doth push on this proceeding:
Yet, for a greater confirmation,
(For, in an act of this importance, 'twere
Most piteous to be wild,) I have despatch'd in post,
To sacred Delphi, to Apollo's temple,
Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know
Of stuff'd sufficiency.^{12 note} Now, from the oracle
They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,
Shall stop, or spur me. Have I done well?

2nd Lord.
Well done, my lord.

Leon.
Though I am satisfied, and need no more
Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
Give rest to the minds of others; such as he,
Whose ignorant credulity will not
Come up to the truth: So have we thought it good,
From our free person she should be confin'd,
Lest that the treachery of the two,^{13 note} fled hence,
Be left her to perform. Come, follow us. [Exeunt. Scene II. —A PRISON. One of the Latomiæ, or Prisons of Syracuse, excavated out of the Rock(C)8Q0233, and known as the ear of Dionysius. Enter Paulina and Attendants.

Paul.
The keeper of the prison,—call to him;
Let him have knowledge who I am.—[Exit an Attendant.] Good lady!
No court in Europe is too good for thee,
What dost thou then in prison?—[Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper.]—Now, good sir,
You know me, do you not?

Keep.
For a worthy lady,
And one whom much I honour.

Paul.
Pray you then,
Conduct me to the queen.

Keep.
I may not, madam; to the contrary
I have express commandment.

Paul.
Here's ado,
To lock up honesty and honour from
The access of gentle visitors!—Is it lawful,
Pray you, to see her women? any of them?
Emilia?

Keep.
So please you, madam, to put
Apart these your attendants, I shall bring
Emilia forth.

Paul.
I pray you now, call her.
Withdraw yourselves. [Exeunt Attendants.

Keep.
And, madam,
I must be present at your conference.

Paul.
Well, be it so, pr'ythee. [Exit Keeper.
Here's such ado to make no stain a stain,
As passes colouring. [Re-enter Keeper, with Emilia.
Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?

Emil.
As well as one so great, and so forlorn,
May hold together: On her frights, and griefs,
(Which never tender lady hath borne greater,)
She is, something before her time, deliver'd.

Paul.
A boy?

Emil.
A daughter; and a goodly babe,
Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives
Much comfort in't: says, My poor prisoner,
I am innocent as you.

Paul.
Pray you, Emilia,
Commend my best obedience to the queen;
If she dares trust me with her little babe,
I'll show't the king, and undertake to be
Her advocate to th' loudest: We do not know
How he may soften at the sight o'the child.

Keep.
Madam, if't please the queen to send the babe,

I know not what I shall incur, to pass it,
Having no warrant.

Paul.
You need not fear it, sir:
This child, by law and process of great nature, is
Free'd and enfranchis'd: not a party to
The anger of the king; nor guilty of,
If any be, the trespass of the queen.

Paul.
Do not you fear: upon
Mine honour, I will stand 'twixt you and danger. [Exeunt. Scene III. —A ROOM IN THE PALACE, WITH VIEW OF PART OF THE CITY OF SYRACUSE.(D)8Q0234 Leontes discovered on a Couch. Antigonus and Lords in the back-ground, watching the King.

Leon.
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
And level of my brain, plot proof;^{14 note} 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. Enter Attendant.

Leon.
Who's there?

1st Atten.
My lord!

Leon.
How does the boy?

1st Atten.
He took good rest to-night;
'Tis hop'd his sickness is discharg'd.

Leon.
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:^{15 note} go.
See how he fares. [Exit Attend.]—Fie! fie! 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 and two Attendants, with a Child.

1st 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.

2nd Lord.
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
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.

Leon.
What noise, there, ho?

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

Leon.
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.

Leon.
What, canst not rule her?

Paul.
From all dishonesty, he can: in this,
He shall not rule me.
Good, my liege, I come,—
And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess
Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
Your most obedient counsellor; I say, I come
From your good queen.

Leon.
Good queen!

Paul.
Good queen, my lord, good queen: I say good queen;
And would by combat make her good, so were I
A man, the worst^{16 note} about you.

Leon.
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.

Leon.
Out!
A mankind witch!^{17 note} Hence with her, out o' door:

Paul.
Not so:
I am no less honest
Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant,
As this world goes, to pass for honest.

Leon.
Traitors!
Will you not push her out?
Thou dotard, [to Ant.] thou art woman-tir'd,—^{18 note}

Take up the brat:
Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone.^{19 note}

Paul.
For ever
Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak'st up the princess, by that forced^{20 note} baseness
Which he has put upon't!

Leon.
He dreads his wife.

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

Leon.
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,^{21 note} betrays to slander,
Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not once remove
The root of his opinion, which is rotten
As ever oak or stone was sound.

Leon.
This brat is none of mine.

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, cheek, and smiles:
And thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it
So like to him, if thou hast
The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours
No yellow in't,^{22 note} lest she suspect, as he does,
Her children not her husband's!

Leon.
A gross hag!—

And lozel,^{23 note} thou art worthy to be hang'd,
That wilt not stay her tongue.

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

Leon.
Once more, take her hence.

Paul.
I'll not call you tyrant;
But this most cruel usage of your queen
Savours of tyranny, and will ignoble make you;
Yea, scandalous to the world.

Leon.
On your allegiance,
Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant,
Where were her life? 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. 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.

2nd Lord.
We can, my royal liege;
He is not guilty of her coming hither.

Leon.
You are traitors, all.

Ant.
'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 creature 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,
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.

Leon.
It shall be possible. Swear by this sword(E)8Q0235
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 loud-tongued wife;
Whom, for this time, we pardon. We enjoin thee,
As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry
This female infant 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,^{24 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,^{25 note}
Against this cruelty, fight on thy side;
Poor thing, condemn'd to loss!^{26 note} [Exit, with the child.

Leon.
No, I'll not rear
Another's issue. Enter Second Attendant.

2nd Atten.
Please your highness, posts
From those you sent to the oracle are come
An hour since. Cleomenes and Dion,
Being well arriv'd from Delphi, are both landed,
Hasting to the court.

Leon.
Twenty-three days
They have been absent: 'Tis good speed: fortels,
The great Apollo suddenly will have
The truth of this appear. Pepare you, lords;
Summon a session, that we may arraign
Our most disloyal lady: for, as she hath
Been publicly 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. END OF ACT SECOND.

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