Leon. Thou dost advise me,

Even so as I mine own course have set down:
I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.
Cam. My lord,

Go then; and with a countenance as clear
As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia,
And with your queen: I am his cup-bearer;
If from me he have wholesome beverage,
Account me not your servant.

Leon. This is all:

Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart; Do't not, thou split'st thine own.

Cum. I'll do't, my lord.

Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd [Exit.

me.

Cam. O miserable lady !—But for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do't Is the obedience to a master; one, Who, in rebellion with himself, will have All, that are his, so too.-To do this deed, Promotion follows: If I could find example Of thousands that have struck anointed kings, And flourish'd after, I'd not do't: but since Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not

nance,

As he had lost some province, and a region,
Lov'd as he loves himself: even now I met him
With customary compliment; when he,
Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling
A lip of much contempt, speeds from me; and
So leaves me, to consider what is breeding,
That changes thus his manners.

Cam. I dare not know, my lord.

Pol. How dare not? do not. Do you know,
and dare not

Be intelligent to me? "Tis thereabouts:
For, to yourself, what you do know, you must;
And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror,
Which shows me mine chang'd too: for I must be
A party in this alteration, finding
Myself thus alter'd with it.

Cam. There is a sickness,
Which puts some of us in distemper; but
I cannot name the disease; and it is caught
Of you, that yet are well.

Pol. How! caught of me?

Make me not sighted like the basilisk:

I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better

By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,-
As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto
Clerk-like, experienc'd, which no less adorns
Our gentry, than our parents' noble names,
In whose success we are gentle,-I beseech you,
If you know aught which does behove my
knowledge

Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not
In ignorant concealment.

Cam. I may not answer.

Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well!
I must be answer'd.-Dost thou hear, Camillo,
I conjure thee by all the parts of man,
Which honour does acknowledge,-whereof the
least

Is not this suit of mine,-that thou declare
What incidency thou dost guess of harm
Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near;
Which way to be prevented, if to be;
If not, how best to bear it.

Cam. Sir, I'll tell you;

Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him That I think honourable: Therefore, mark my counsel;

Which must be even as swiftly follow'd, as
I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me
Cry, lost, and so good-night.

Pol. On, good Camillo.

Cam. I am appointed Him to murder you. Pol. By whom, Camillo?

Cam. By the king.

Pol. For what?

Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he

swears,

As he had seen't, or been an instrument
To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his
queen
Forbiddenly.

Pol. O, then my best blood turn
To an infected jelly; and my name
Be yok'd with his, that did betray the best!
Turn then my freshest reputation to
A savour, that may strike the dullest nostril
Where I arrive; and my approach be shunn'd,
Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection,
That e'er was heard, or read!

Cam. Swear his thought over
By each particular star in heaven, and
By all their influences, you may as well
Forbid the sea for to obey the moon,
As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake
The fabric of his folly; whose foundation
Is pil'd upon his faith, and will continue
The standing of his body.

Pol. How should this grow?

Cam. I know not: but, I am sure, "tis safer to Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty,That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you Shall bear along impawn'd,-away to-night. Your followers I will whisper to the business;

And will, by twos, and threes, at several posterns,
Clear them of the city: For myself, I'll put
My fortunes to your service, which are here
By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain;
For, by the honour of my parents, I
Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove,
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer
Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth,
thereon

His execution sworn.

Pol. I do believe thee:

I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand;
Be pilot to me, and thy places shall
Still neighbour mine: My ships are ready, and
My people did expect my hence departure
Two days ago.-This jealousy

| Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,
Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,
Must it be violent; and as he does conceive
He is dishonour'd by a man which ever
Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must
In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me:
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo ;
I will respect thee as a father, if
Thou bear'st my life off hence: Let us avoid.
Cam. It is in mine authority, to command
The keys of all the posterns: Please your highness
To take the urgent hour: Come, sir, away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE L-The same.

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies. Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, 'Tis past enduring.

1 Lady. Come, my gracious lord, Shall I be your play-fellow?

Mam. No, I'll none of you.

1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord?

Mam. You'll kiss me hard; and speak to me as if

I were a baby still.-I love you better. 2 Lady. And why so, my good lord? Mam. Not for because

Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they

say,

Become some women best ; so that there be not
Too much hair there, but in a semi-circle,
Or half moon made with a pen.

2 Lady. Who taught you this?

Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces.-Pray

now

What colour are your eye-brows?

1 Lady. Blue, my lord.

Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's

nose

That has been blue, but not her eye-brows.
2 Lady. Hark ye:

The queen, your mother, rounds apace: we shall
Present our services to a fine new prince,
One of these days: and then you'd wanton with us,
If we would have you.

1 Lady. She is spread of late

Into a goodly bulk: Good time encounter her! Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now

I am for you again: Pray you, sit by us,
And tell's a tale

Saw I men scour so on their way: I ey'd them Even to their ships.

Leon. How bless'd am I

In my just censure? in my true opinion?—
Alack, for lesser knowledge!-How accurs'd,
In being so blest !-There may be in the cup
A spider steep'd, and one may drink; depart,
And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge
Is not infected: but if one present
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his

sides,

With violent hefts :-I have drank, and seen the spider.

Camillo was his help in this, his pander !— There is a plot against my life, my crown; All's true, that is mistrusted :—that false villain.

Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:
He has discover'd my design, and İ
Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick
For them to play at will:-How came the
posterns

So easily open?

1 Lord. By his great authority; Which often hath no less prevail'd than so, On your command.

Leon. I know't too well.

Give me the boy; I am glad, you did not nurse him:

Though he does bear some sign of me, yet you Have too much blood in him.

Her. What is this? sport?

Leon. Bear the boy hence, he shall not come about her;

Away with him :-and let her sport herself
With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes
Has made thee swell thus.

Her. But I'd say, he had not,

And, I'll be sworn, you would believe my saying, Howe'er you lean to the nayward.

Leon. You, my lords,

Look on her, mark her well; be but about
To say, she is a goodly lady, and

The justice of your hearts will thereto add,
'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:
Praise her but for this her without-door form,
(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,)
and straight

The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands,
That calumny doth use:-O, I am out,
That mercy does; for calumny will sear
Virtue itself:-these shrugs, these hums, and
ha's,

When you have said, she's goodly, co
come between,
Ere you can say, she's honest: But be it known
From him, that has most cause to grieve it should
be,

She's an adultress.

Her. Should a villain say so,

The most replenish'd villain in the world,

He were as much more villain: you, my lord, Do but mistake.

Leon. You have mistook, my lady, Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing, Which I'll not call a creature of thy place, Lest barbarism, making me the precedent, Should a like language use to all degrees, And mannerly distinguishment leave out Betwixt the prince and beggar!-I have said, She's an adultress; I have said with whom : More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is A federary with her; and one that knows What she should shame to know herself, But with her most vile principal, that she's A bed-swerver, even as bad as those That vulgars give bold titles; ay, and privy To this their late escape.

Her. No, by my life,

Privy to none of this: How will this grieve you, When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that VOL. I.

You thus have publish'd me? Gentle my lord, You scarce can right me throughly then, to say You did mistake.

Leon. No, no; if I mistake

In those foundations which I build upon,
The center is not big enough to bear

A school-boy's top.-Away with her to prison:
He, who shall speak for her, is afar off guilty,
But that he speaks.

Her. There's some ill planet reigns:

I must be patient, till the heavens look
With an aspect more favourable.-Good my lords,
I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew,
Perchance, shall dry your pities: but I have
That honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns
Worse then tears drown: 'Beseech you all, my
lords,

With thoughts so qualified as your charities
Shall best instruct you, measure me ;-and so
The king's will be perform'd!

Leon. Shall I be heard? [To the Guards. Her. Who is't, that goes with me?—'Beseech your highness,

My women may be with me; for, you see,
My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools;
There is no cause; when you shall know, your

mistress

Has deserv'd a prison, then abound in tears,
As I come out; this action I now go on,
Is for my better grace.-Adieu, my lord:
I never wish'd to see you sorry; now,

I trust, I shall.—My women, come; you have leave.

Leon. Go, do your bidding; hence.

[Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 1 Lord. 'Bescech your highness, call the queen again.

Ant. Be certain what you do, sir; lest your justice

Proye violence; in the which three great ones suffer,

Yourself, your queen, your son.

1 Lord. For her, my lord,

I dare my life lay down, and will do't, sir, Please you to accept it, that the queen is spot

less

Ant. If it be so,

We need no grave to bury honesty ;

There's not a grain of it, the face to sweeten
Of the whole dungy earth.

Leon. What! lack I credit?

1 Lord. I had rather you did lack, than I, my lord,

Upon this ground: and more it would content me To have her honour true, than your suspicion; Be blam'd for't how you might.

Leon. Why, what need we

Commune with you of this? but rather follow
Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative
Calls not your counsels; but our natural goodness
Imparts this: which, if you, (or stupified,
Or seeming so in skill,) cannot, or will not,
Relish as truth, like us; inform yourselves,
We need no more of your advice: the matter,
The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all
Properly ours.

Ant. And I wish, my liege,

You had only in your silent judgment tried it, Without more overture.

Leon. How could that be?

Either thou art most ignorant by age,

Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,
Added to their familiarity,

(Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture,
That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation,
But only seeing, all other circumstances
Made up to the deed,) doth push on this pro-
ceeding:

Yet, for a greater confirmation,

(For, in an act of this importance, 'twere
Most piteous to be wild,) I have despatch'd in
post,

To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple,
Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know
Of stuff'd sufficiency: Now, from the oracle
They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,
Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?
1 Lord. Well done, my lord.

Leon. Though I am satisfied, and need no more
Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
Give rest to the minds of others; such as he,
Whose ignorant credulity will not
Come up to the truth: So have we thought it
good,

From our free person she should be confin'd;

Enter PAULINA and Attendants.

Paul. The keeper of the prison,-call to him; [Exit an Attendant. Let him have knowledge who I am.-Good lady! No court in Europe is too good for thee, What dost thou then in prison?-Now, good sir,

Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper. You know me, do you not?

Keep. For a worthy lady, And one whom I much honour. Paul. Pray you then, Conduct me to the queen.

Keep. I may not, madam; to the contrary
I have express commandment.
Paul. Here's ado,

To lock up honesty and honour from
The access of gentle visitors!-Is it lawful,
Pray you, to see her women? any of them?
Emilia ?

Keep. So please you, madam, to put
Apart these your attendants, I shall bring

Emilia forth.

Paul. I pray now, call her.Withdraw yourselves.

Keep. And, madam,

[Exeunt Attend.

I must be present at your conference.
Paul. Well, be it so, pr'ythee. [Exit Keeper.
Here's such ado to make no stain a stain,
As passes colouring.

Re-enter Keeper, with EMILIA.

Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?

Emil. As well as one so great, and so forlorn, May hold together: On her frights, and griefs, (Which never tender lady hath borne greater,) She is, something before her time, deliver'd. Paul. A boy?

Emil. A daughter; and a goodly babe, Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives Much comfort in't: says, My poor prisoner, I am innocent as you.

Paul. I dare be sworn :These dangerous unsafe lunes o'the king! be

shrew them!

He must be told on't, and he shall: the office Becomes a woman best; I'll take’t upon me: If I prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister; And never to my red-look'd anger be

The trumpet any more:-Pray you, Emilia, Commend my best obedience to the queen; If she dares trust me with her little babe, I'll show't the king, and undertake to be

Her advocate to th' loudest: We do not know
How he may soften at the sight o'the child;
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.

Emil. Most worthy madam,

Your honour, and your goodness, is so evident,
That your free undertaking cannot miss
A thriving issue; there is no lady living,
So meet for this great errand: Please your
ladyship

To visit the next room, I'll presently
Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer;
Who, but to-day, hammer'd of this design;
But durst not tempt a minister of honour,
Lest she should be denied.

Paul. Tell her, Emilia,

I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from it, As boldness from my bosom, let it not be doubted I shall do good.

Emil. Now be you blest for it!

I'll to the queen: Please you, come something

nearer.

Keep. Madam, if't please the queen to send the babe,

I know not what I shall incur, to pass it,
Having no warrant.

Paul. You need not fear it, sir:

The child was prisoner to the womb; and is,
By law and process of great nature, thence
Free'd and enfranchis'd: not a party to
The anger of the king; nor guilty of,
If any be, the trespass of the queen.
Keep. I do believe it.

Paul. Do not you fear: upon

Mine honour, I will stand 'twixt you and danger.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-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?
1 Atten. My lord?

Leon. How does the boy?

[Advancing.

1 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,

Ant. That's enough.

1 Atten. Madam, he hath not slept to-night 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 confer

ence,

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. Lo 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 profess
Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
Your most obedient counsellor ; yet that dare
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 Í A man, the worst about you.

Leon. Force her hence.