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. |
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.