Her.

Sir, spare your threats; The bug,which you would 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,
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murder. Myself on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
To women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i'the open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die? Therefore, proceed.
But yet hear this; mistake me not.-No! life,
I prize it not a straw; but for mine honour,
Which I would free; if I shall be condemn'd
Upon surmises-all proofs sleeping else,
But what your jealousies awake-I tell you,
'Tis rigour, and not law. Your Honours all!
I do refer me to the Oracle;

Apollo be my judge.

1 Lord.

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

[Exeunt certain Officers. Her. The Emperor of Russia was my father. Oh, that he were alive, and here beholding His daughter's trial! that he did but see The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes Of pity, not revenge!

Re-enter Officers with CLEOMENES and DION. Offi. You here shall swear upon this 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.

Leon. Break up the seals, and read.

Offi. [Reads.] Hermione is chaste, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrunt, 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!

Ay, my lord; even so

Leon. There is no truth at all i'the Oracle :

The sessions shall proceed; this is mere falsehood.

Enter a Servant, hastily.

Serv. My lord the King, the King!

Leon.

What is the business?

Serv. O sir, I shall be hated to report it:
The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
Of the Queen's speed, is gone.

Leon.

Serv.

How! gone?

Is dead.

[HERMIONE faints.

How now there?

Leon. Apollo's angry; and the Heavens themselves

Do strike at my injustice.

Paul. This news is mortal to the Queen.-Look

down,

And see what Death is doing.

Leon.

Take her hence;

Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover.-
I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion.
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon

[Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERM. 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 tardied
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 hazard boldly
Of all incertainties himself commended,
No richer than his honour.-How he glisters
Thorough my rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!

Paul.

Re-enter PAULINA.

Woe the while!

Oh, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it,
Break too!

1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady?

Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast thou for me?

What wheels? what racks? what 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!-Oh! 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,
And damnable ungrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would'st have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses,

More monstrous standing by! whereof I reckon
The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter
To be or none, or little; though a devil
Would have shed water out of fire, ere done't.
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death

Of the young prince; whose honourable thoughts
-Thoughts high for one so tender-cleft the heart
That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
Blemish'd his gracious dam. This is not, no,
Laid to thy answer; but the last... Oh! lords,
When I have said, cry, Woe !-the Queen, the Queen,
The sweetest, dearest creature's dead; and vengeance

for't

Not dropp'd down yet.

1 Lord.

The higher powers forbid! Paul. I say, she's dead; I'll swear't. If word,

nor oath,

Prevail not, go and see. If you can bring
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you
As I would do the gods.-But, oh, thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees,
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.

Leon.
Go on, go on.
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.

1 Lord.

Say no more;

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I'the boldness of your speech.

Paul.

I am sorry for't;

All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent. Alas, I have shew'd too much
The rashness of a woman; he is touch'd

To the noble heart.-What's gone, and what's past help,

Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction
At my petition, I beseech you; rather

Let me be punish'd, that have minded you

Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman.

The love I bore your Queen-lo, fool again!...
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember you of my own lord,

Who is lost too.

Take your patience to you, sir,

And I'll say nothing.

Leon.

Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth; which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me
To the dead bodies of my Queen, and son.

One grave shall be for both; upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto

Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit

The chapel where they lie; and tears, shed there, Shall be my recreation. So long

As nature will bear up with this exercise,

So long I daily vow to use it. Come,

And lead me to these sorrows.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Bohemia. A desert Country near the Sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Babe; and a Mariner.

Antigonus.

THOU art perfect then, is!

HOU art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon

Mar. Ay, my lord; and fear We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly, And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The Heavens with that we have in hand are angry,