Of us too much beloved. Let us be cleared
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
Proceed in justice; which shall have due course,
Even to the guilt or the purgation.-
Produce the prisoner.

Offi. It is his highness' pleasure that the queen Appear in person here in court.-Silence!

HERMIONE is brought in, guarded; PAULINA and Ladies, attending.

Leon. Read the indictment.

Officer reads.

"Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, King of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband. The pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night."

Her. Since what I am to say must be but that Which contradicts my accusation; and The testimony on my part no other

But what comes from myself; it shall scarce boot me
To say, "Not guilty" mine integrity

Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
Be so received. But thus: if powers divine
Behold our human actions (as they do),
I doubt not then but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience.-You, my lord, best know
(Who least will seem to do so) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devised
And played to take spectators. For behold me,—
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe

A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince,-here standing,
To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I stand for. I appeal
To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strained, to appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honour, or in act or will
That way inclining, hardened be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
Cry "Fie!" upon my grave.

Leon.

I ne'er heard yet

That any of these bolder vices wanted

Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
(With whom I am accused), I do confess
I loved him, as in honour he required,
With such a kind of love as might become
A lady like me; with a love even such,
So and no other, as yourself commanded:
Which not to have done, I think, had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude,

To you, and toward your friend; whose love had spoke,

Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,

I know not how it tastes; though it be dished
For me to try how: all I know of it
Is, that Camillo was an honest man;
And why he left your court, the gods themselves,
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.
Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know
What you
have underta'en to do in 's absence.
Her. Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not:
My life stands in the level of your dreams;
Which I'll lay down.

(Those of your fact are so), so past all truth:
Which to deny, concerns more than avails:
For as

Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
No father owning it (which is, indeed,
More criminal in thee than it), so thou
Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage,
Look for no less than death.

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 barred, like one infectious: my third comfort,
Starred most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murder myself on every post

:

Proclaimed 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 condemned
Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else
But what your jealousies awake; I tell you
"T is rigour, and not law.-Your honours all,
I do refer me to the oracle;

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

[Exeunt certain Officers.
Her. The Emperor of Russia was my father:
O, 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

Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover.-
I have too much believed mine own suspicion.-
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life.-Apollo, pardon
[Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERMIONE.
My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle!—
I'll reconcile me to Polixenes;

New woo my queen; recal 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 filled with honour, to my kingly guest
Unclasped my practice; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard
Of all uncertainties himself commended,
No richer than his honour.-How he glisters
Through my rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!

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

1st Lord. What fit is this, good lady?

Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels; racks; 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 !-O, 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 betrayedst Polixenes 't was nothing; That did but shew thee of a fool, inconstant, And damnable ungrateful; nor was 't much Thouwouldst have poisoned 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

1st 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, O 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.

SCENE III.-Bohemia.

A desert Country near the Sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touched upon

The deserts of Bohemia ?
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,
And frown upon us.

Ant. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get
aboard;

Look to thy bark: I'll not be long before
I call upon thee.

Mar. Make your best haste, and go not
Too far i' the land; 't is like to be loud weather:
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
Of prey that keep upon 't.
Go thou away:

Ant.

I'll follow instantly.

All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent. Alas, I have showed too much
The rashness of a woman: he is touched

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 punished, 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,
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'y thee, 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.

So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another;

I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,

So filled, and so becoming: in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach

My cabin, where I lay: thriced bowed before me;
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her: "Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,-
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita

I pr'y thee call 't: for this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more:"-and so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,

I did in time collect myself; and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,

I will be squared by this. I do believe
Hermione hath suffered death; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid,
Either for life or death, upon the earth
Of its right father.-Blossom, speed thee well!
[Laying down the Child

ACT III.-SCENE III.

503

There lie; and there thy character: there these; [Laying down a bundle. Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty,

And still rest thine.-The storm begins:-poor wretch,

That, for thy mother's fault, art thus exposed
To loss, and what may follow :-weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds: and most accursed am I,
To be by oath enjoined to this.-Farewell!
The day frowns more and more; thou art like
to have

A lullaby too rough: I never saw

The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour!
Well may I get aboard!-This is the chace:
I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a Bear.

Enter an Old Shepherd.

Shep. I would there was no age between ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between

but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.-Hark you now!Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master: if anywhere I have them, 't is by the sea-side browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [Taking up the Child.] Mercy on's, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one. Sure, some scape: though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work; they were warmer that got this, than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hollaed but even now. Whoa, ho hoa! Enter Clown.

Clo. Hilloa, loa!

Shep. What, art so near? If thou 'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man?

Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land; but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

Shep. Why, boy, how is it?

Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the point: O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast; and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land-service: to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship: to see how the sea flap-dragoned it :-but first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them;-and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather.

Shep. Name of mercy, when was this, boy? Clo. Now, now; I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half-dined on the gentleman; he's at it now.

Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped the old man!

Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing.

Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! But look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou mett'st with things dying, I with things new born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearingcloth for a squire's child! Look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open 't. So, let's see. It was told me I should be rich by the fairies: this is some changeling:-open 't: what's within, boy?

Clo. You're a made old man; if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!

Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 't will prove so: up with it, keep it close; home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy, and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy.-Let my sheep go. Come, good boy, the next way home.

Clo. Go you the next way with your findings; I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten: they are never curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it.

Shep. That's a good deed. If thou mayst discern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to the sight of him.

Clo. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' the ground.

Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on 't. [Exeunt.

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