Sicilia. A Room in the Palace. |
|
Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies. |
Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, |
'Tis past enduring. |
First Lady. Come, my gracious lord, |
Shall I be your playfellow? |
Mam. No, I'll none of you. |
First Lady. Why, my sweet lord? |
Mam. You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if |
I were a baby still. I love you better. |
Sec. Lady. And why so, my lord? |
Mam. Not for because |
Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, |
Become some women best, so that there be not |
Too much hair there, but in a semicircle, |
Or a half-moon made with a pen. |
Sec. Lady. Who taught you this? |
Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces. Pray now, |
What colour are your eyebrows? |
First Lady. Blue, my lord. |
Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose |
That has been blue, but not her eyebrows. |
Sec. Lady. Hark ye; |
The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall |
Present our services to a fine new prince |
One of these days; and then you'd wanton with us, |
If we would have you. |
First Lady. She is spread of late |
Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her! |
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. A sad tale's best for winter. |
I have one of sprites and goblins. |
Her. Let's have that, good 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 churchyard. I will tell it softly; |
Yond crickets shall not hear it. |
Her. Come on then, |
And give't me in mine ear. |
|
Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and Others. |
Leon. Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him? |
First 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 blest am I |
In my just censure, in my true opinion! |
Alack, for lesser knowledge! How accurs'd |
In being so blest! There may be in the cup |
A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, |
And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge |
Is not infected; but if one present |
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known |
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, |
With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen the spider. |
Camillo was his help in this, his pandar: |
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; yea, a very trick |
For them to play at will. How came the posterns |
So easily open? |
First Lord. By his great authority; |
Which often hath no less prevail'd than so |
On your command. |
Leon. I know't too well. |
[To HERMIONE.] 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!—[Exit MAMILLIUS, attended.] 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 the nayward. |
Leon. 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,—O, I am out!— |
That mercy does, for calumny will sear |
Virtue itself: 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 adulteress. |
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 adulteress; 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. |
Leon. No; if I mistake |
In those foundations which I build upon, |
The centre 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 |
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! |
Leon. [To the Guards.] 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 have leave. |
Leon. Go, do our bidding: hence! [Exeunt Queen guarded, and Ladies. |
First 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. |
First 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 |
I' the 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 stables where |
I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her; |
Than when I feel and see her no further trust her; |
For every inch of woman in the world, |
Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, |
If she be. |
Leon. Hold your peaces! |
First 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-damn 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 them all; fourteen they shall not see, |
To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; |
And I had rather glib myself than they |
Should not produce fair issue. |
Leon. Cease! no more. |
You smell this business with a sense as cold |
As is a dead man's nose; but I do 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. |
Leon. What! lack I credit? |
First 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. |
Leon. 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 yourselves |
We need no more of your advice: the matter, |
The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all |
Properly ours. |
Ant. And I wish, my liege, |
You had only in your silent judgment tried it, |
Without more overture. |
Leon. 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 the 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, |
Cleomenes 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? |
First 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 fled hence |
Be left her to perform. Come, follow us: |
We are to speak in public; for this business |
Will raise us all. |
Ant. [Aside.] To laughter, as I take it, |
If the good truth were known. [Exeunt. |
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