Leo. To fee his nobleness!

Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,

He ftraight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply;
Faften'd, and fix'd the fhame on't in himself;
Threw off his fpirit, his appetite, his fleep,
And down-right languifh'd. Leave me folely; go,
[Exit Attendant.
See how he fares.- Fie, fie, no thought of him;—
The very thought of my revenges that way
Recoyl upon me; in himself too mighty,
And in his parties, his alliance; let him be,
Until a time may serve. For prefent vengeance,
Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes

Laugh at me; make their pastime at my forrow;
They fhould not laugh, if I could reach them; nor
Shall fhe, within my power.

S

CENE V..

Enter Paulina, with a Child.

Lord. You must not enter.

Paul. Nay rather, good my lords, be fecond to me; Fear you his tyrannous paffion more, alas,

Than the Queen's life? a gracious innocent foul,
More free than he is jealous.

Ant. That's enough.

Atten. [within.] Madam, he hath not slept to night commanded,

None fhould come at him.

Paul. Not fo hot, good Sir;

I come to bring him fleep. 'Tis fuch as you,
That creep like fhadows by him, and do figh
At each his needlefs heavings; fuch as you
Nourish the caufe of his awaking. I

Do come with words, as medicinal, as true;

* Honest, as either; to purge him of that humour, That preffes him from fleep.

Leo. What noise there, ho?

Paul. No noife, my Lord, but needful conference, About fome goffips for your Highness.

Leo. How?

Away with that audacious lady.— -Antigonus,

I charg'd thee, that the should not come about me; I knew, fhe would.

Ant. I told her fo, my Lord,

On your displeasure's peril and on mine,
She fhould not vifit you.

Leo. What? can't not rule her?

Paul. From all difhonefty he can; in this, (Unless he take the courfe that you have done, Commit me, for committing honour,) trust it, He fhall not rule me.

Ant. Lo-you now, you hear,

When she will take the rein, I let her run,
But fhe'll not stumble.

Paul. Good my Liege, I come

And I beseech you, hear me, who profess
Myfelf your loyal fervant, your physician,
Your most obedient counsellor: yet that dares
Lefs appear fo, in comforting your evils,
Than fuch as most seems yours. I fay, I come
From your good Queen.

Leo. Good Queen?

Paul. Good Queen, my Lord,

Good Queen, I fay, good Queen;

* And would by combat make her good, fo were I

A

A

3 Honeft, as either;]ie whofe fubject is the Queen's innocence: otherwife there would be a tautology.

4 And would by combat make her good, fo were 1

A man, the worst about you.] Paulina fuppofes the King's jealousy to be raised and inflamed by the courtiers about him; who, the finely fays,

creep

A man, on th' worst about you.

Leo. 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 fhe is good, hath brought you forth a daughter, Here 'tis; commends it to your bleffing.

Leo. Out!

[Laying down the child.

A mankind witch! hence with her, out o' door:
A moft intelligencing bawd!

Paul. Not fo;

I am as ignorant in That, as you
In fo intit❜ling me; and no lefs honeft

Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant,
As this world goes, to pafs for honeft.

Leo. Traitors!

Will you not push her out? give her the baftard.
To Antigonus.
Thou dotard, thou art woman-tyr'd; unroofted
By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the baftard,
Take't up, I fay; give't to thy croan.
Paul. For ever

Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou

Take'ft up the Princefs, by that forced baseness
Which he has put upon't!

Leo. He dreads his wife.

creep like fhadows by him, and do figh

At each his needlefs heavings:

Surely then, she could not fay, that were the a man, the worst of thefe, he would vindicate her miftrefs's honour against the King's fufpicions, in fingle combat. Shakespear, I am perfuaded, wrote,

i. e. were I a man, I would vindicate her honour, on the worst of thefe fycophants that are about you.

5---forced bafeness] forced for unnatural.

Paul. So, I would, you did: then 'twere past all doubt,

You'd call your children yours.

Leo. A neft of traytors!

Ant. I am none, by this good light.

Paul. Nor I; nor any

But one, that's here; and that's himself. For he
The facred honour of himself, his Queen's,

His hopeful fon's, his babe's, betrays to flander,
Whofe fting is fharper than the fword's, and will not
(For as the cafe now ftands, it is a curse
He cannot be compell'd to't) once remove
The root of his opinion, which is rotten,
As ever oak or ftone was found.

Leo. A callat

Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband,
And now baits me! This brat is none of mine;
It is the iffue of Polixenes.

Hence with it, and together with the dam,
Commit them to the fire.

Paul. It is yours;

And, might we lay th' old proverb to your charge,
So like you, 'tis the worfe. Behold, my lords,
Altho' the print be little, the whole matter
And copy of the father; eye, nofe, lip,

The trick of's 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 haft made it
So like to him that got it, if thou haft

The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours
No yellow in't; left fhe fufpect, as he does,
Her children not her husband's.

Leo. A grofs hag!

And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd,

That wilt not ftay her tongue.

Ant. Hang all the husbands,

That

That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
Hardly one fubject.

Leo. Once more, take her hence.

Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more.

Leo. I'll ha' thee burnt.

Paul. I care not;

It is an heretick that makes the fire,

Not the which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant,
But this moft cruel ufage of your Queen

(Not able to produce more accufation

Than your own weak-hing'd fancy) fomething favours Of tyranny; and will ignoble make you,

Yea, fcandalous to the world.

Leo. On your allegiance,

Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant,
Where were her life? fhe durft not call me fo,
If fhe 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 fend her
A better guiding fpirit! What need these hands?
You, that are thus fo tender o'er his follies,
Will never do him good, not one of you.
So, fo: farewel, we are gone.

SCENE

[Exit.

VI.

Leo. Thou, traitor, haft fet on thy wife to this. My child? away with't. Even thou, thou that haft A heart fo tender o'er it, take it hence,

And fee it inftantly confum'd with fire;

Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up ftraight:
Within this hour bring me word it is done,
And by good teftimony, or I'll feize thy life,
With what thou elfe call'ft thine: if thou refufe,
And wilt encounter with my wrath, fay fo:
The baftard brains with thefe my proper hands

X 4

Shall