The fabric of his folly; whofe foundation Pol. How fhould this grow? Cam. I know not; but I'm fure 'tis fafer to Have utter'd truth; which if you feek to prove, Pol. I do believe thee: I faw his heart in's face. Give me thy hand; Be pilot to me, and thy places fhall Still neighbour mine. My fhips are ready, and Is for a precious creature; as he's rare, Fear o'er-fhades me: Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious Queen's; part of his theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta'en fufpicion! Come, Camillo, I will refpect thee as a father, if Thou bear'ft my life off hence. Let us avoid. Cam. It is in mine authority to command The keys of all the pofterns: please your Highness ACT II. SCENE I. Her. The palace. Enter Hermione, Mamillius, and Ladies. Ake the boy to you; he so troubles me, 1 Lady. Come, my gracious Lord. Shall I be your play-fellow? Mam. No, I'll none of you. 1 Lady. Why, my fweet Lord? Mam. You'll kifs me hard, and speak to me as if I were a baby ftill; I love you better. 2 Lady. And why fo, my Lord? Mam. Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they fay, 2 Lady. Who taught you this? Mam. I learn'd it out of womens' faces: pray now, What colour be your eye-brows? 1 Lady. Blue, my Lord. Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I've seen a lady's nofe That has been blue, but not her eye-brows. 1 Lady. Hark ye, The Queen your mother rounds apace: we shall One of thefe days; and then you'll wanton with us, 2 Lady. She is fpread of late Into a goodly bulk, (good time encounter her!) Her. What wifdom ftirs amongst you? come, Sir, now I am for you again. Pray you fit by us, And tell's a tale. Mam. Merry, or fad, fhall 't be? Mam. A fad tale's beft for winter. Come on, fit down. Come on, and do your best To fright me with your fprights: you're powerful at it. Mam. There was a man Her. Nay, come, fit down; then on. Mam. Dwelt by a church-yard; Yond crickets fhall not hear it. -I will tell it [foftly: Her. Come on, then, and give 't me in mine ear. Enter Leontes, Antigonus, and Lords. Leo. Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him? Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never Saw I men fcowr fo on their way: I ey'd them Even to their fhips. Leo. How blefs'd am I In my juft cenfure! in my true opinion! "Th' abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known fpider. Camillo was his help in this, his pander: Remain a pinch'd thing*; yea, a very trick So easily open? How came the posterns Lord. By his great authority, Which often hath no lefs prevail'd than fo On your command. Leo. I know't too well. Give me the boy; I'm glad you did not nurfe him : Alluding to the fuperstition of the vulgar concerning those who were inchanted, and fastened to the fpot, by charms fuperior to their own, Though he does bear fome figns of me, yet you Her. What is this? fport? Leo. Bear the boy hence, he shall not come about her; Av Away with him, and let her sport herself With that she's big with: for 'tis Polixenes Has made thee fwell thus. Her. But I'd fay, he had not; And, I'll be fworn, you would believe my saying, Leo. You, my Lords, Look on her, mark her well; be but about The juftice of your hearts will thereto add, (Which, on my faith, deferves high speech), and ftraight The fhrug, the hum, or ha,-(these petty brands, That calumny doth use: oh, I am out, That mercy do's; for calumny will fear Virtue itfelf); thefe fhrugs, thefe hums, and ha's, Her. Should a villain say so, The most replenish'd villain in the world, Leo. You have miftook, my Lady, That vulgars give bold'ft titles; ay, and privy Her. No, by my life, Privy to none of this: how will this grieve you, Leo. No, if I mistake In these foundations which I build upon, A fchool-boy's top. Away with her to prison: Her. There's fome ill planet reigns; I must be patient, till the heavens look With an afpect more favourable. Good my Lords, Perchance, fhall dry your pities; but I have Shall beft inftruct you, meafure me; and fo The King's will be perform'd! Leo. Shall I be heard? Her. Who is 't that goes with me? 'befeech your My women may be with me; for you fee [Highness, My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools, There is no caufe; when you fhall know your mistress I truft, I fhall. My women,-come, you've leave. [Exit Queen guarded, and Ladies. Lord. 'Befeech your Highness call the Queen again. Ant. Be certain what you do, Sir, left your juftice Prove violence; in the which three great ones fuffer, Lord. For her, my Lord, |