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.

Leon.

Traitors!

:

Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard :Thou dotard [To ANTIGONUS], thou art womantir'd, unroosted

By thy dame Partlet here:-take up the bastard; Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone3.

Paul.

Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou

For ever

Takest up the princess, by that forced baseness Which he has put upon't!

Leon.

He dreads his wife.

Paul. So, I would, you did; then, 'twere past

all doubt,

You'd call your children yours.

Leon.

A nest of traitors!

Nor I; nor any,

Ant. I am none, by this good light.
Paul.
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 10; and will

not

7 i. e. hen-pecked. To tire in Falconry is to tear with the beak. Partlet is the name of the hen in the old story of Reynard the Fox.

8 A crone was originally a toothless old ewe; and thence became a term of contempt for an old woman.

9 Forced is false; uttered with violence to truth. Baseness for bastardy; we still say base born.

10 Whose sting is sharper than the sword's.' So in Cymbeline:

'Slander,

Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile.'

(For, as the case now stands, 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 stone, was sound.

A callat 11,

Leon.
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.

Paul,

It is yours;

And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge,
So like you, '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 12 in't; lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's!

Leon.

A gross hag!

Hang all the husbands

And, lozel 13, thou art worthy to be hang'd,
That wilt not stay her tongue.

Ant.

That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself

Hardly one subject.

Leon. Once more, take her hence. Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more.

11 A callat is a trull, 12 No yellow,' the colour of jealousy. 13 Lozel, a worthless fellow; one lost to all goodness. From the Saxon Losian, to perish, to be lost. Lorel, losel, losliche, are all of the same family.

Leon.
Paul.

I'll have thee burn'd.

It is a heretic that makes the fire,

I care not:

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.

Leon.

Out of the chamber with her.

On your allegiance,
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.

[Exit.

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,
And see it instantly consum'd with fire;

Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight;
Within this hour bring me word, 'tis done
(And by good testimony), or I'll seize thy life,
With what thou else call'st thine: If thou refuse,
And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;
The bastard brains with these my proper hands
Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;
For thou sett'st on thy wife.

Ant.

I did not, sir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in't.

1 Lord.

We can; my royal liege,

He is not guilty of her coming hither.

Leon. You are liars all.

1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit:

purpose;

We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech
So to esteem of us; And on our knees we beg
(As recompense of our dear services,
Past, and to come) that you do change this
Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must
Lead on to some foul issue: We all kneel.
Leon. I am a feather for each wind that blows:-
Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel

And call me father? Better burn it now,
Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live:

It shall not neither.—You, sir, come you hither;

[To ANTIGONUS.

You, that have been so tenderly officious
With lady Margery, your midwife, there,
To save this bastard's life :-for 'tis a bastard,
So sure as this beard's gray 14,—what will you ad-

venture

To save this brat's life?

Ant.

Any thing, my lord,
That my ability may undergo,

And nobleness impose: at least, thus much;
I'll pawn the little blood which I have left,
To save the innocent: any thing possible.

Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword 15, Thou wilt perform my bidding.

Ant.
I will, my lord.
Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) for

the fail

14 Leontes must mean the beard of Antigonus, which he may be supposed to touch. He himself tells us that twenty-three years ago he was unbreech'd, of course his age must be under thirty, and his own beard would hardly be gray.

15 It was anciently a practice to swear by the cross at the hilt of a sword.

Of any point in't shall not only be

Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife;
Whom, for this time, we pardon. We enjoin thee,
As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry
This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it
To some remote and desert place, quite out
Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it,
Without more mercy, to its own protection,
And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune
It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,—
On thy soul's peril, and thy body's torture,-
That thou commend it strangely to some place 16,
Where chance may nurse, or end it: Take it up.

Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death Had been more merciful.-Come on, poor babe: Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, To be thy nurses! Wolves, and bears, they say, Casting their savageness aside, have done Like offices of pity.-Sir, be prosperous

In more than this deed doth require! and blessing 17, Against this cruelty, fight on thy side,

Poor thing, condemn'd to loss 18!

Leon.

Another's issue.

1 Atten.

No, I'll not rear

[Exit, with the Child.

Please your highness, posts,

From those you sent to the oracle, are come

An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion,

Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to the court.

1 Lord.

So please you, sir, their speed

Hath been beyond account.

16 i. e. commit it to some place as a stranger. To commend is

to commit, according to the old dictionaries.

17 i. e. the favour of heaven.

18 i. e. to exposure, or to be lost or dropped.