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

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

Leo.
How blest am I
In my just censure! in my true opinion!
Alack, for lesser knowledge, how accurs'd
In being so blest! &wlquo;There may be in the cup
&wlquo;A spider steep'd, and one may drink; depart,
&wlquo;And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge
&wlquo;Is not infected: but if one present
&wlquo;Th' abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
&wlquo;How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides
&wlquo;With violent hefts.—I have drunk, and seen the spider.—&wrquo;
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:
^{1 note}
He hath discover'd my design, and I

Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick
For them to play at will: how came the posterns
So easily open?

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

Leo.
I know't too well.
Give me the boy; I'm 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?

Leo.
Bear the Boy hence, he shall not come about her;
Away with him, and let her sport herself
With that she's big with: for 'tis Polixenes
Has made thee swell thus.

Her.
But I'd say, he had not;
And, I'll be sworn, you would believe my saying,
Howe'er you lean to th' nayward.

Leo.
You, my lords,
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: oh, I am out,—
That mercy do's; for calumny will sear
Virtue it self.) 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't 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.

Leo.
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 with her; and one that knows
What she should shame to know herself,
But with her most vile Principal, that she's
A bed-swerver, even as bad as those
That Vulgars give bold'st titles; 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.

Leo.
No, if I mistake
In these foundations which I build upon,
The center is not big enough to bear
A school-boy's top. Away with her to prison:
He, who shall speak for her, is far off guilty,
But that he speaks.

Her.
There's some ill planet reigns;
I must be patient, 'till the heavens look
With an aspect more favourable. 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!—

Leo.
Shall I be heard?—

Her.
Who is't, that goes with me? 'beseech your Highness,
My women may be with me, for, you see,
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,
As I come out; 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've leave.

Leo.
Go, do your bidding; hence. [Exit Queen, guarded; and Ladies.

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,
Your self, your Queen, your son.

Lord.
For her, my lord,
I dare my life lay down, and will do't, Sir,
Please you t'accept it, that the Queen is spotless
I'th' eyes of heaven, and to you, (I mean,
In this which you accuse her.)

Ant.
If it prove
She's otherwise, I'll keep my ^{2 note}stable-stand where
I lodge my wife, I'll go in couples with her:
Than when I feel, and see, no further trust her;
For every inch of woman in the world,
Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false,
If she be.

Leo.
Hold your peaces.

Lord.
Good my lord,—

Ant.
It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:
You are abus'd, and by some putter-on,
That will be damn'd for't; 'would I knew the villain,
I would land-damm him: be she honour-flaw'd,
I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven;
The second, and the third, nine, and some five;
If this prove true, they'll pay for't. By mine honour,
I'll geld 'em all: fourteen they shall not see,
To bring false generations; they are coheirs,
And I had rather glib myself, than they
Should not produce fair issue.

Leo.
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, the face to sweeten
Of the whole dungy earth.

Leo.
What? lack I credit?

Lord.
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.

Leo.
Why, what need we
Commune with you of this? but rather follow
Our forceful instigation? our prerogative
Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness
Imparts this; which, if you, (or stupified,
Or seeming so, in skill,) cannot, or will not
Relish a truth like us; inform your selves,
We need no more of your advice; the matter,
The loss, the gain, the ord'ring on't, is all
Properly ours.

Ant.
And I wish, my Liege,

You had only in your silent judgment try'd it,
Without more overture.

Leo.
How could that be?
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,
That lack'd sight only; nought for approbation,
But only seeing; all other circumstances
Made up to th' deed) 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 dispatch'd in post,
To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple,
Cleomines and Dion, whom you know
Of stuff'd sufficiency: Now, from the oracle
They will bring all: whose spiritual counsel had,
Shall stop, or spur me. Have I done well?

Lord.
Well done, my Lord.

Leo.
Tho' I am satisfy'd, and need no more
Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
Give rest to th' minds of others; such as he,
Whose ignorant credulity will not
Come up to th' truth. So have we thought it good
From our free person, she should be confin'd;
Lest that the treachery of the two, fled hence,
Be left her to perform. Come, follow us,
We are to speak in publick; for this business
Will raise us all.

Ant.
To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth were known. [Exeunt.

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