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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?
My lord ?
[Advancing Leon. How does the boy ? 1 Atten.
He took good rest to-night; 'Tis hop'd, his sickness is discharg’d.
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 Attend.] - Fye, fye
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.
You must not enter. Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me: Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,
Leave me solely:] That is, leave me alone.
Than the queen’s life? a gracious innocent soul ;
More free, than he is jealous.
That's enough. 1 Atten. Madam, he hath not slept to-night; com
None should come at him.
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.
What noise there, ho?
Paul. No noise, my lord; but needful conference,
About some gossips for your highness.
Away with that audacious lady : Antigonus,
I charg’d thee, that she should not come about me;
I knew, she would.
I told her so, my lord,
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
When she will take the rein, I let her run;
But she'll not stumble.
Good my liege, I come, -
And, I beseech you, hear me, who professt
Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dare
+ “ who professes.”—MALONE.
Less appear so, in comforting your evils?,
, Than such as most seem yours :
From your good queen,
Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen: I say, good
And would by combat make her good, so were I
A man, the worst about you.
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.
A mankind witch"! Hence with her, out o' door :
A most intelligencing bawd !
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.
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; Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone."
- in comforting your evils,] Comforting is here used in the legal sense of comforting and abetting in a criminal action.
the worst about you.] Were I the weakest of your servants, I would yet claim the combat against any accuser. 3 A mankind witch !] i.e. masculine.
thou art woman-tir'd,] Woman-tird, is peck'd by a woman; hen-pecked.
- thy crone.] i. e. thy old worn-out woman. A croan is an old toothless sheep: thence an old woman.
Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak’st up the princess, by that forced baseness
Which he has put upon't!
He dreads his wife.
Paul. So, I would, you did ; then 'twere past all doubt,
You'd call your children yours.
A nest of traitors!
Ant. I am none, by this good light.
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 compellid to't,) once remove
The root of his opinion, which is rotten,
As ever oak, or stone, was sound.
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.
It is yours;
And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge,
'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 his 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 !
A gross hag!-
And, lozel , thou art worthy to be hang’d,
That wilt not stay her tongue.
Hang all the husbands,
That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.
Once more, take her hence.
Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord
Can do no more.
I'll have thee burn'd.
I care not:
It is an heretick, 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.
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.
So, so : Farewell ; we are gone.
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,
? No yellow in’t;] Yellow is the colour of jealousy.
8 And, lozel,] A term of contempt, meaning worthless, dishonest.