Leo. How gone?
Ser. Is dead.

Leo. Apollo's angry, and the heav'ns themselves

Do strike at my injustice. - How now, there?

[Her. faints.

Paul. This news is mortal to the Queen: look down,

And fee what death is doing.

Lco. Take her hence;

Her heart is but o'er-charg'd; she will recover.

[Exeunt Paulina and ladies with Hermione.

I have too much believ'd mine own fufpicion:
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon
My great Prophaneness 'gainst thine Oracle!
I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,

New woo my Queen, recall the good Camillo;
(Whom I proclaim a man of Truth, of Mercy)
For being transported by my jealoufies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chofe
Camillo for the Minifter, to prifon
My friend Polixenes; which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My fwift Command; tho' I with death, and with
Reward, did threaten, and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done; he (most humane,
And fill'd with Honour) to my kingly Guest
Unclasp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended,
No richer than his honour: how he glisters
Through my dark Rust! and how his Piety
Does my deeds make the blacker !

SCENE felr

?

er.

Paul. W

Break too.

O, cut my lace, left my heart, cracking it,

Lord. What fit is this, good lady ?

Paul. What studied torments, Tyrant, haft for me ? What wheels ? racks ? fires? what flaying? boiling?

burning

In leads, or oils? what old, or newer, torture
Must I receive? whose every word deferves

: 'To taste of thy most worst. Thy Tyranny
Together working with thy Jealoufies,
(Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of mine!) 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 betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing;
That did but shew thee off, a fool, inconstant,
And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would'st have poifon'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a King: poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by; whereof I reckon
it The cafting forth to crows thy baby-daughter,
To be, or none, or little; tho' a devil
Would have shed water out of fire, ere don't:
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
Of the young Prince, whose honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one fo tender) cleft the heart,
That could conceive a gross and foolish Sire
Blemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer; but the last, Odords,ca !!
When I have faid, cry, woe! the Queen, the Queen,-
The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and vengeance

for't

N

Not dropt down yet.

F4

Lord.

Lord. The higher Powers forbid !

Paul. I say, she's dead: I'll swear't: if word, nor

oath,

Prevail not, go and fee: 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 ftir: 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.

Leo. Go on, go on:

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd All tongues to talk their bitterest.

Lord. Say no more;

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I'th' boldness of your speech.

Paul. I am forry for't.

All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,

I do repent: alas, I've shew'd too much

The rashness of a woman; he is touch'd

To th' 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 punish'd, 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 you your patience to you,

And I'll fay nothing.

Leo. Thou didst speak but well,

When most the truth; which I receive much better

Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me
HOT To the dead bodies of my Queen and fon;

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

en The Chapel where they lie, and tears, shed there,

ran

Shall be my recreation. So long as nature

earn Will bear up with this exercise, so long

Set I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me

p

To these forrows.

es,

SCENE VI.

[Exeunt.

alt

コ

Changes to Bohemia. A defart Country; the Sea at a

Ant.

little Distance.

Enter Antigonus with a Child, and a Mariner.

HOU art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd

THOU

upon

The defarts of Bohemia ?

Mar. Ay, my lord; and fear,

- We've landed in ill time: the skies look grimly, And threaten present blusters. In my confcience, The heav'ns with that we have in hand are angry, And frown upon's.

Ant. Their facred wills be done! get thee 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'th' land; 'tis like to be loud weather.
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures

Of pray, that keep upon't.

Ant. Go thou away.

I'll follow instantly.

Mar. I'm glad at heart

To be fo rid o'th' business.

Ant. Come, poor babe;

[Exit.

I have heard, but not believ'd, the spirits of the dead

May walk again; if such thing be, thy mother
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one fide, some another,
I never faw a veffel of like forrow

So fill'd, and so becoming; in pure white robes,
Like very fanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me,
And, gafping to begin fome speech, her eyes
Became two spouts; the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her. Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better difpofition,
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 loft for ever and ever, Perdita,
I pr'ythee, callt. For this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt fee
Thy wife Paulina more. And fo, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself, and thought
This was fo, and no slumber: Dreams are toys,
Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do believe,
Hermione hath suffer'd 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. Bloffom, speed thee well!

1

Laying down the child.

There lie, and there thy character: there these, Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty

one,

And ftill rest thine. The storm begins;

Poor

wretch,

That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd
To lofs, and what may follow, (weep I cannot,

But