The Same. A Room in the Palace. |
| |
Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and other Attendants. |
| 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; 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. Who's there? |
| First Atten. [Advancing.] My lord? |
| Leon. How does the boy? |
| First 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 downright languish'd. Leave me solely: go, |
| See how he fares. [Exit Attendant.]—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, with a Child. |
| First 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. |
| Sec. Atten. Madam, he hath not slept tonight; commanded |
| None should come at him. |
| Paul. Not so hot, good sir; |
| I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you, |
| That creep like shadows by him and do sigh |
| At each his needless heavings, 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, |
| Unless he take the course that you have done, |
| Commit me for committing honour, trust it, |
| He shall not rule me. |
| Ant. La you now! you hear; |
| When she will take the rein I let her run; |
| But she'll not stumble. |
| Paul. Good my liege, I come, |
| And I beseech you, hear me, who professes |
| Myself your loyal servant, your physician, |
| Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dares |
| Less appear so in comforting your evils |
| Than such as most seem yours: 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 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! Hence with her, out o' door: |
| A most intelligencing bawd! |
| Paul. Not so; |
| I am as ignorant in that as you |
| In so entitling me, and 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? Give her the bastard. |
| [To ANTIGONUS.] Thou dotard! thou art woman-tir'd, unroosted |
| By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard; |
| Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone. |
| Paul. For ever |
| Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou |
| Tak'st up the princess by that forced 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, betrays to slander, |
| Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not,— |
| For, as the case now stands, it is a curse |
| He cannot be compell'd to 't,—once remove |
| The root of his opinion, which is rotten |
| As ever oak or stone was sound. |
| Leon. A callat |
| Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband |
| And now baits me! This brat is none of mine; |
| It is the issue of Polixenes: |
| Hence with it; and, together with the dam |
| Commit them to the fire! |
| 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's frown, his forehead, nay, the valley, |
| The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek, his smiles, |
| The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger: |
| And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it |
| So like to him that got it, if thou hast |
| The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours |
| No yellow in 't; lest she suspect, as he does, |
| Her children not her husband's. |
| Leon. A gross hag! |
| And, lozel, 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. A most unworthy and unnatural lord |
| Can do no more. |
| Leon. I'll ha' thee burn'd. |
| Paul. I care not: |
| It is a heretic that makes the fire, |
| Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; |
| But this most cruel usage of your queen,— |
| Not able to produce more accusation |
| Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,—something 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? she durst not call me so |
| If she did know me one. 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. [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. If thou refuse |
| And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; |
| The bastard brains with these my proper hands |
| Shall I dash out. 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. |
| First Lord. We can, my royal liege, |
| He is not guilty of her coming hither. |
| Leon. You are liars all. |
| First Lord. Beseech your highness, give us better credit: |
| We have always truly serv'd you, and beseech you |
| 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 bastard kneel |
| And call me father? Better burn it now |
| Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live: |
| It shall not neither.—[To ANTIGONUS.] You, sir, come you hither; |
| You that have been so tenderly officious |
| With Lady Margery, your midwife there, |
| To save this bastard's life,—for 'tis a bastard, |
| So sure as thy beard's grey,—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 |
| 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 lewd-tongu'd wife, |
| Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee, |
| As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry |
| This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it |
| To some remote and desart 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, |
| 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 doth require! And blessing |
| Against this cruelty fight on thy side, |
| Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! [Exit with the Child. |
| Leon. No; I'll not rear |
| Another's issue. |
| |
Enter a Servant. |
| Serv. Please your highness, posts |
| From those you sent to the oracle are come |
| An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, |
| Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed, |
| Hasting to the court. |
| First Lord. So please you, sir, their speed |
| Hath been beyond account. |
| Leon. Twenty-three days |
| They have been absent: 'tis good speed; foretells |
| The great Apollo suddenly will have |
| The truth of this appear. Prepare 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. |
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