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, Leon. Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard :Thou dotard, [To Antigonus] thou art woman-tir'd, unroosted By thy dame Partlet here,-take up the bastard; Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou For ever Tak'st up the princess, by that forced baseness 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! Nor I; nor any, Ant. I am none, by this good light. His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not 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, Paul. It is yours; And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his smiles; The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours Leon. And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, Ant. A gross hag! Hang all the husbands That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject. Leon. Leon. Paul. I'll have thee burn'd. It is an heretic, that makes the fire, I care not: Not she, which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; (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. 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, So, so :-Farewell; we are gone. [Exit. Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.- 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, Ant. I did not, sir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in't. 1 Lord. We can; my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit: We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech 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.-You, sir, come you hither: [To Antigonus. You, that have been so tenderly officious To save this bastard's life:-for 'tis a bastard, So sure as this beard's grey,-what will you adventure To save this brat's life? Ant. Any thing, my lord, And nobleness impose: at least, thus much; Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword, 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 lew'd-tongu'd wife; Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death In more than this deed doth require! and blessing, Leon. Another's issue. 1 Atten. [Exit with the Child. No, I'll not rear 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, 1 Lord. So please you, sir, their speed Twenty-three days Hath been beyond account. Leon. They have been absent: "Tis good speed; foretels, The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; c Leave me; [Exeunt. Enter CLEOMENES and DION. Cleo. The climate's delicate; the air most sweet; Fertile the isle: the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears. I shall report, Dion. (Methinks I so should term them,) and the reverence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly It was i'the offering! Cleo. But, of all, the burst And the ear-deafening voice o'the oracle, Dion. If the event o'the journey Prove as successful to the queen,-O, be't so! |