Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Leon. Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. 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 And see it instantly consumed with fire; Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight. 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. We have always truly served 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 purpose; 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;· It shall not neither.-You, sir, come you hither; [To ANTIGONUS. You, that have been so tenderly officious VOL. II.-7 So sure as this beard's gray,-what will you adventure To save this brat's life? Ant. Any thing, my lord, And nobleness impose. At least, thus much; Leon. It shall be possible. Swear by this sword, Ant. I will, my lord. Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued wife; Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death In more than this deed doth require! and blessing, Leon. Another's issue. 1 Attend. From those you [Exit, with the Child. No, I'll not rear Please your highness, posts, sent to the oracle, are come An hour since. Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed, 1 Lord. So please you, sir, their speed Twenty-three days will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords: They have been absent. 'Tis good speed; foretells, The great Apollo suddenly Summon a session, that we may arraign Leave me; ACT III. [Exeunt. SCENE I. The same. A Street in some Town. Enter CLEOMENES and DION. Cleo. The climate's delicate; the air most sweet; I shall report Dion. (Methinks I so should term them) and the reverence It was 'the offering! Cleo. But of all, the burst And ear-deafening voice o' the oracle, Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense, Dion. The time is worth the use on't. Cleo. Great Apollo, Turn all to the best! These proclamations, I little like. Dion. The violent carriage of it Will clear, or end, the business. When the oracle Even then will rush to knowledge. -Go, fresh horses! And gracious be the issue! [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A Court of Justice. LEONTES, Lords, and Officers, appear properly seated. Leon. This sessions (to our great grief, we pronounce) Even pushes 'gainst our heart. The party tried, The daughter of a king; our wife; and one Of us too much beloved.-Let us be cleared Of being tyrannous, since we so openly Proceed in justice; which shall have due course, Even to the guilt, or the purgation. Produce the prisoner. Offi. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen Appear in person here in court.-Silence! HERMIONE is brought in, guarded; PAULINA and Ladies, attending. Leon. Read the indictment. Offi. Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord and king, thy royal husband; the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night. Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that Which contradicts my accusation; and The testimony on my part, no other But what comes from myself; it shall scarce boot me To say, Not guilty: mine integrity, Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, Be so received. But thus,-If I doubt not, then, but innocence shall make Tremble at patience.-You, my lord, best know A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince-here standing Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for honor, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Have strained, to appear thus: if one jot beyond Leon. Her. Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. That's true enough; More than mistress of, Leon. You will not own it. Her. Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, (With whom I am accused,) I do confess To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke, I know not how it tastes; though it be dished And why he left your court, the gods themselves, Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know You speak a language that I understand not. |