Leon. Your actions are my dreams; You had a bastard by Polixenes, As you were past all shame, (Those of your fact are so,) so past all truth; Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage, Her. The crown and comfort of my life, your favor, But know not how it went. My second joy, Apollo be my judge. 1 Lord. This your request, Is altogether just: therefore, bring forth, And in Apollo's name, his oracle. [Exeunt certain Officers. Her. The emperor of Russia was my father. Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DION. Offi. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice, That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have Been both at Delphos; and from thence have brought Cleo. Dion. All this we swear. Leon. Break up the seals, and read. Offi. [Reads.] Hermione is chaste, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that, which is lost, be not found. Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo! Leon. Hast thou read truth? Offi. As it is here set down. Praised! Ay, my lord; even so Leon. There is no truth at all i' the oracle. The sessions shall proceed; this is mere falsehood. Enter a Servant, hastily. Serv. My lord the king, the king! What is the business? Leon. Of the queen's speed, is gone. Leon. Serv. Leon. Apollo's angry; and the Heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice. How! gone? Is dead. [HERMIONE faints. How now there? Take her hence; Paul. This news is mortal to the queen.-Look down, And see what death is doing. Leon. Some remedies for life.-Apollo, pardon [Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERM. My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle!I'll reconcile me to Polixenes; New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo; For, being transported by my jealousies My friend Polixenes; which had been done, My swift command, though I with death, and with Not doing it, and being done: he, most humane, No richer than his honor.- How he glisters Paul. Re-enter PAULINA. Woe the while! O cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it, 1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady? Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boiling In leads or oils? What old, or newer torture When I have said, cry, woe!-The queen, the queen, The sweetest, dearest creature's dead; and vengeance for't Not dropped down yet. 1 Lord. The higher powers forbid! Paul. I say, she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath Prevail not, go and see; 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 stir; 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. Leon. Go on, go on. Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved 1 Lord. Paul. The rashness of a woman: he is touched To the 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 punished, 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!- Who is lost too. Take your patience to you, Leon. One grave shall be for both; upon them shall Nature will bear up with this exercise, So long I daily vow to use it. Come, [Exeunt. SCENE III. Bohemia. A desert Country near the Sea. Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art perfect, then, our ship hath touched upon The deserts of Bohemia? Mar. Ant. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get aboard; Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before I call upon thee. Mar. Make your best haste; and go not Of prey that keep upon't. Ant. I'll follow instantly. Mar. Go thou away. I am glad at heart Come, poor babe. To be so rid o'the business. Ant. [Exit. I have heard (but not believed) the spirits of the dead So filled, and so becoming; in pure white robes, My cabin where I lay; thrice bowed before me; There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe I pr'ythee call't; for this ungentle business, |