And in Apollo's name, his oracle.

[Exeunt certain Officers. father:

Her. The emperor of Ruffia was my
O, that he were alive, and here beholding
His daughter's trial! that he did but fee
The fatnefs of my mifery; yet with eyes
Of pity, not revenge!

Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DION.
Off. You here fhall fwear upon this fword of justice,
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have

Been both at Delphos; and from thence have brought
This feal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver❜d
Of great Apollo's prieft; and that, fince then,
You have not dar'd to break the holy feal,
Nor read the fecrets in't.

Cleo. Dion.

All this we fwear.

Leon. Break up the feals, and read.

Off. [reads.] Hermione is chafte, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true fubject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that, which is loft, be not found.

Lords. Now bleffed be the great Apollo !

Her.

Leon. Haft thou read truth?

Ofi.

As it is here fet down.

Praised!

Ay, my lord; even fo

Leon. There is no truth at all i'the oracle:

The feffions shall proceed; this is mere falsehood.

Enter a Servant, haftily.

Serv. My lord the king, the king!

Leon.

What is the business?

Serv. O fir, I fhall be hated to report it :
The prince your fon, with mere conceit and fear
Of the queen's fpeed, is gone.

Leon.

How! gone?

05

7 That is, how low, how flat I am laid by my calamity. JOHNSON. Of the event of the queen's trial: so we still say, he sped well or ill.

Is

JOHNSON.

Serv.

Is dead.

Leon. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves Do ftrike at my injuftice. [HERMIONE faints.] How now

there?

Paul. This news is mortal to the queen :-Look down,
And fee what death is doing.

Leon.
Take her hence :
Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; fhe will recover.
I have too much believ'd mine own fufpicion :-
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life.-Apollo, pardon

[Exeunt PAULINA and ladies, with HERMIONE.

My great profanenefs '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 tranfported by my jealoufies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minifter, to poifon

My friend Polixenes which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My fwift command, though 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 gueft
Unclafp'd my practice; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himfelf commended,

No richer than his honour:-How he glifters
Thorough my ruft ! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker ! »

Paul.

Re-enter PAULINA.

Woe the while!

O, cut my lace; left my heart, cracking it,
Break too!

1. Lord.

9 This vehement retraction of Leontes, accompanied with the confeffion of more crimes than he was fufpected of, is agreeable to our daily experience of the viciffitudes of violent tempers, and the eruptions of minds oppreffed with guilt. JoNSON.

1. Lord. What fit is this, good lady?

Paul. What ftudied torments, tyrant, haft for me?
What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boiling,
In leads, or oils? what old, or newer torture
Muft I receive; whofe 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 nine !-O, think, what they have done,
And then run mad, indeed; stark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but fpices of it.
That thou betray'dft Polixenes, 'twas nothing;
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconftant,
And damnable ungrateful: 2 nor was't much,
Thou would't have poifon'd good Camillo's honour,'
To have him kill a king; poor trefpaffes,

More monftrous ftanding by: whereof I reckon
The cafting forth to crows thy baby daughter,
To be or none, or little; though a devil
Would have fhed water out of fire, ere don't:
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death

2 I have ventured at a flight alteration here, against the authority of all the copies, and for fool read-foul. It is certainly too grofs and blunt in Paulina, though the might impeach the king of fooleries in fome of his paft actions and conduct, to call him downright a fool. And, it is much more pardonable in her to arraign his morals, and the qualities of his mind, than rudely to call him idiot to his face. THEOBALD.

-fbow thee of a fool,] So all the copies. We should read:

-fhow thee off, a foul,

i. e. reprefent thee in thy true colours; a fool, an inconftant, &c. WARBURTON.

Poor Mr. Theobald's courtly remark cannot be thought to deferve much notice. Dr. Warburton too might have fpared his fagacity, if he had remembered that the present reading, by a mode of fpeech anciently much used, means only, It show'd thee first a fool, then inconftant and ungrateful. JOHNSON.

Damnable is here ufed adverbially. MALONE.

3 How fhould Paulina know this? No one had charged the king with this crime except himself, while Paulina was abfent, attending on Hermione. The poet feems to have forgotten this circumftance.

MALONE.

4 i, e. a devil would have fhed tears of pity o'er the damn'd, ere he would have committed fuch an action. STEVENS.

Of the young prince; whofe honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one fo tender,) cleft the heart
That could conceive, a grofs and foolish fire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: But the last,-O, lords,
When I have faid, cry, woe!-the queen, the queen,
The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and vengeance for't
Not dropp'd down yet.

1. Lord.

you

The higher powers forbid!
Paul. I fay, fhe's dead; I'll fwear't: if word, nor oath,
Prevail not, go and fee: if you can bring
Tincture, or luftre, in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll ferve
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 defpair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fafting,
Upon a barren mountain, and ftill winter
In ftorm 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 deferv'd
All tongues to talk their bittereft.

1. Lord.
Say no more;
Howe'er the bufinefs goes, you have made fault
I'the boldness of your fpeech.

Paul.

I am forry for't;

5

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

I do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much

The rafhnefs of a woman: he is touch'd

To the noble heart. What's gone, and what's past help,
Should be paft grief: Do not receive affliction

At my petition, I befeech you; rather

Let me be punish'd, that have minded

you

Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,

Sir, royal fir, forgive a foolish woman:

The love I bore your queen,-lo, foul again!

I'll

This is another inftance of the fudden chings incident to vehment

and ungovern, ble minds. JOHNSEN.

I'll fpeak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember vou of mine own lord,
Who is loft too: Take your patience to you,
And I'll fay nothing.

Leon.
Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth; which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me
To the dead bodies of my queen, and fon :
One grave fhall be for both; upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto
Our fhame perpetual: Once a day I'll vifit
The chapel where they lie; and tears, fhed there,
Shall be my recreation: So long as

Nature will bear up with this exercise,
So long I daily vow to ufe it. Come,
And lead me to thefe forrows.

SCENE III.

Bohemia. A defert country near the fea.

[Exeunt.

Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner.

Ant. Thou art perfect then, our fhip hath touch'd upon The deferts of Bohemia ?

Mar.
Ay, my
lord; and fear
We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly,
And threaten prefent blufters. In my confcience,
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry,
And frown upon us.

Ant.
Their facred wills be done !-Go, get aboard;
Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before

I call upon thee.

Mar. Make your belt hafte; and go not

Too far i'the land 'tis like to be loud weather

Befides

• Perfect is often ufed by Shakspeare for certain, well ofjured, o: well

informed. JOHNSON.

5.5 is fo ufed by almost all our ancient writers. STEEVENS.