Part 214

LEONTES. Though I am satisfied, and need no more Than what I know, yet shall the oracle Give rest to the minds of others, such as he Whose ignorant credulity will not Come up to th’ truth. So have we thought it good From our free person she should be confin’d, Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; We are to speak in public; for this business Will raise us all.

ANTIGONUS. [_Aside._] To laughter, as I take it, If the good truth were known.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE II. The same. The outer Room of a Prison.

Enter Paulina, a Gentleman and Attendants.

PAULINA. The keeper of the prison, call to him; Let him have knowledge who I am.

[_Exit the Gentleman._]

Good lady! No court in Europe is too good for thee; What dost thou then in prison?

Enter Gentleman with the Gaoler.

Now, good sir, You know me, do you not?

GAOLER. For a worthy lady And one who much I honour.

PAULINA. Pray you then, Conduct me to the queen.

GAOLER. I may not, madam. To the contrary I have express commandment.

PAULINA. Here’s ado, to lock up honesty and honour from Th’ access of gentle visitors! Is’t lawful, pray you, To see her women? any of them? Emilia?

GAOLER. So please you, madam, To put apart these your attendants, I Shall bring Emilia forth.

PAULINA. I pray now, call her. Withdraw yourselves.

[_Exeunt Gentleman and Attendants._]

GAOLER. And, madam, I must be present at your conference.

PAULINA. Well, be’t so, prithee.

[_Exit Gaoler._]

Here’s such ado to make no stain a stain As passes colouring.

Re-enter Gaoler with Emilia.

Dear gentlewoman, How fares our gracious lady?

EMILIA. As well as one so great and so forlorn May hold together: on her frights and griefs, (Which never tender lady hath borne greater) She is, something before her time, deliver’d.

PAULINA. A boy?

EMILIA. A daughter; and a goodly babe, Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives Much comfort in ’t; says “My poor prisoner, I am as innocent as you.”

PAULINA. I dare be sworn. These dangerous unsafe lunes i’ th’ king, beshrew them! He must be told on’t, and he shall: the office Becomes a woman best. I’ll take’t upon me. If I prove honey-mouth’d, let my tongue blister, And never to my red-look’d anger be The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia, Commend my best obedience to the queen. If she dares trust me with her little babe, I’ll show’t the king, and undertake to be Her advocate to th’ loud’st. We do not know How he may soften at the sight o’ th’ child: The silence often of pure innocence Persuades, when speaking fails.

EMILIA. Most worthy madam, Your honour and your goodness is so evident, That your free undertaking cannot miss A thriving issue: there is no lady living So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship To visit the next room, I’ll presently Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer, Who but today hammer’d of this design, But durst not tempt a minister of honour, Lest she should be denied.

PAULINA. Tell her, Emilia, I’ll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from ’t As boldness from my bosom, let’t not be doubted I shall do good.

EMILIA. Now be you blest for it! I’ll to the queen: please you come something nearer.

GAOLER. Madam, if ’t please the queen to send the babe, I know not what I shall incur to pass it, Having no warrant.

PAULINA. You need not fear it, sir: This child was prisoner to the womb, and is, By law and process of great nature thence Freed and enfranchis’d: not a party to The anger of the king, nor guilty of, If any be, the trespass of the queen.

GAOLER. I do believe it.

PAULINA. Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I Will stand betwixt you and danger.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE III. The same. A Room in the Palace.

Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords and other Attendants.

LEONTES. Nor night nor day no rest: it is but weakness To bear the matter thus, mere weakness. If The cause were not in being,—part o’ th’ cause, She th’ adultress; for the harlot king Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank And level of my brain, plot-proof. But she I can hook to me. Say that she were gone, Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest Might come to me again. Who’s there?

FIRST ATTENDANT. My lord.

LEONTES. How does the boy?

FIRST ATTENDANT. He took good rest tonight; ’Tis hop’d his sickness is discharg’d.

LEONTES. To see his nobleness, Conceiving the dishonour of his mother. He straight declin’d, droop’d, took it deeply, Fasten’d and fix’d the shame on’t in himself, Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, And downright languish’d. Leave me solely: go, See how he fares.

[_Exit First Attendant._]

Fie, fie! no thought of him. The very thought of my revenges that way Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty, And in his parties, his alliance. Let him be, Until a time may serve. For present vengeance, Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes Laugh at me; make their pastime at my sorrow: They should not laugh if I could reach them, nor Shall she, within my power.

Enter Paulina carrying a baby, with Antigonus, lords and servants.

FIRST LORD. You must not enter.

PAULINA. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me: Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, Than the queen’s life? a gracious innocent soul, More free than he is jealous.

ANTIGONUS. That’s enough.

SERVANT. Madam, he hath not slept tonight; commanded None should come at him.

PAULINA. Not so hot, good sir; I come to bring him sleep. ’Tis such as you, That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh At each his needless heavings,—such as you Nourish the cause of his awaking. I Do come with words as med’cinal as true, Honest as either, to purge him of that humour That presses him from sleep.

LEONTES. What noise there, ho?

PAULINA. No noise, my lord; but needful conference About some gossips for your highness.

LEONTES. How! Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus, I charg’d thee that she should not come about me. I knew she would.

ANTIGONUS. I told her so, my lord, On your displeasure’s peril and on mine, She should not visit you.

LEONTES. What, canst not rule her?

PAULINA. From all dishonesty he can. In this, Unless he take the course that you have done, Commit me for committing honour—trust it, He shall not rule me.

ANTIGONUS. La you now, you hear. When she will take the rein I let her run; But she’ll not stumble.

PAULINA. Good my liege, I come,— And, I beseech you hear me, who professes Myself your loyal servant, your physician, Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dares Less appear so, in comforting your evils, Than such as most seem yours—I say I come From your good queen.

LEONTES. Good queen!

PAULINA. Good queen, my lord, good queen: I say, good queen, And would by combat make her good, so were I A man, the worst about you.

LEONTES. Force her hence.

PAULINA. 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 she is good) hath brought you forth a daughter; Here ’tis; commends it to your blessing.

[_Laying down the child._]

LEONTES. Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o’ door: A most intelligencing bawd!

PAULINA. Not so. 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.

LEONTES. Traitors! Will you not push her out? [_To Antigonus._] Give her the bastard, Thou dotard! Thou art woman-tir’d, unroosted By thy Dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard, Take’t up, I say; give’t to thy crone.

PAULINA. For ever Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Tak’st up the princess by that forced baseness Which he has put upon ’t!

LEONTES. He dreads his wife.

PAULINA. So I would you did; then ’twere past all doubt You’d call your children yours.

LEONTES. A nest of traitors!

ANTIGONUS. I am none, by this good light.

PAULINA. Nor I; nor any 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; and will not, (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.

LEONTES. A callat 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.

PAULINA. It is yours; And, might we lay th’ 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 ’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 hast made it So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, ’mongst all colours No yellow in ’t, lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband’s!

LEONTES. A gross hag! And, losel, thou art worthy to be hang’d That wilt not stay her tongue.

ANTIGONUS. Hang all the husbands That cannot do that feat, you’ll leave yourself Hardly one subject.

LEONTES. Once more, take her hence.

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

LEONTES. I’ll have thee burnt.

PAULINA. I care not. It is an heretic that makes the fire, 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.

LEONTES. On your allegiance, Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? She durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her!

PAULINA. 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 needs 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._]

LEONTES. 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 that 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 set’st on thy wife.

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

LORDS We can: my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither.

LEONTES. You’re liars all.

FIRST LORD. Beseech your highness, give us better credit: 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 purpose, Which being so horrible, so bloody, must Lead on to some foul issue. We all kneel.

LEONTES. 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. [_To Antigonus._] You, sir, come you hither, 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 grey. What will you adventure To save this brat’s life?

ANTIGONUS. Anything, 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. Anything possible.

LEONTES. It shall be possible. Swear by this sword Thou wilt perform my bidding.

ANTIGONUS. I will, my lord.

LEONTES. Mark, and perform it, seest thou? for the fail 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 it 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 Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.

ANTIGONUS. 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 does require! And blessing Against this cruelty, fight on thy side, Poor thing, condemn’d to loss!

[_Exit with the child._]

LEONTES. No, I’ll not rear Another’s issue.

Enter a Servant.

SERVANT. Please your highness, posts From those you sent to th’ oracle are come An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arriv’d from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to th’ court.

FIRST LORD. So please you, sir, their speed Hath been beyond account.

LEONTES. Twenty-three days They have been absent: ’tis good speed; foretells The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; Summon a session, that we may arraign Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath Been publicly accus’d, so shall she have A just and open trial. While she lives, My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me, And think upon my bidding.

[_Exeunt._]

ACT III

SCENE I. Sicilia. A Street in some Town.

Enter Cleomenes and Dion.

CLEOMENES The climate’s delicate; the air most sweet, Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears.

DION. I shall report, For most it caught me, the celestial habits (Methinks I so should term them) and the reverence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly, It was i’ th’ offering!

CLEOMENES But of all, the burst And the ear-deaf’ning voice o’ th’ oracle, Kin to Jove’s thunder, so surprised my sense That I was nothing.

DION. If the event o’ th’ journey Prove as successful to the queen,—O, be’t so!— As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, The time is worth the use on’t.

CLEOMENES Great Apollo Turn all to th’ best! These proclamations, So forcing faults upon Hermione, I little like.

DION. The violent carriage of it Will clear or end the business: when the oracle, (Thus by Apollo’s great divine seal’d up) Shall the contents discover, something rare Even then will rush to knowledge. Go. Fresh horses! And gracious be the issue!

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE II. The same. A Court of Justice.

Enter Leontes, Lords and Officers appear, properly seated.

LEONTES. 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 belov’d. Let us be clear’d 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.

OFFICER. It is his highness’ pleasure that the queen Appear in person here in court. Silence!

Hermione is brought in guarded; Paulina and Ladies attending.

LEONTES. Read the indictment.

OFFICER. [_Reads._] “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 the 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.”

HERMIONE. 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 receiv’d. But thus, if powers divine Behold our human actions, as they do, I doubt not, then, but innocence shall make False accusation blush, and tyranny Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know, Who least will seem to do so, my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy; which is more Than history can pattern, though devis’d And play’d to take spectators. For behold me, A fellow of the royal bed, which owe A moiety of the throne, a great king’s daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing To prate and talk for life and honour ’fore Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare. For honour, ’Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Came to your court, how I was in your grace, How merited to be so; since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain’d t’ appear thus: if one jot beyond The bound of honour, or in act or will That way inclining, harden’d be the hearts Of all that hear me, and my near’st of kin Cry fie upon my grave!

LEONTES. I ne’er heard yet That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did Than to perform it first.

HERMIONE. That’s true enough; Though ’tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

LEONTES. You will not own it.

HERMIONE. More than mistress of Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, With whom I am accus’d, I do confess I lov’d him as in honour he requir’d, With such a kind of love as might become A lady like me; with a love even such, So and no other, as yourself commanded: Which not to have done, I think had been in me Both disobedience and ingratitude To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke, Ever since it could speak, from an infant, freely, That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, I know not how it tastes, though it be dish’d For me to try how: all I know of it Is that Camillo was an honest man; And why he left your court, the gods themselves, Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

LEONTES. You knew of his departure, as you know What you have underta’en to do in ’s absence.

HERMIONE. Sir, You speak a language that I understand not: My life stands in the level of your dreams, Which I’ll lay down.

LEONTES. Your actions are my dreams. You had a bastard by Polixenes, And I but dream’d it. As you were past all shame (Those of your fact are so) so past all truth, Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, No father owning it (which is, indeed, More criminal in thee than it), so thou Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage Look for no less than death.

HERMIONE. Sir, spare your threats: The bug which you would fright me with, I seek. To me can life be no commodity. The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, I do give lost, for I do feel it gone, But know not how it went. My second joy, And first-fruits of my body, from his presence I am barr’d, like one infectious. My third comfort, Starr’d most unluckily, is from my breast, (The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth) Hal’d out to murder; myself on every post Proclaim’d a strumpet; with immodest hatred The child-bed privilege denied, which ’longs To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried Here to this place, i’ th’ open air, before I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, Tell me what blessings I have here alive, That I should fear to die. Therefore proceed. But yet hear this: mistake me not: no life, I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour, Which I would free, if I shall be condemn’d Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you ’Tis rigour, and not law. Your honours all, I do refer me to the oracle: Apollo be my judge!

FIRST LORD. This your request Is altogether just: therefore bring forth, And in Apollo’s name, his oracle:

[_Exeunt certain Officers._]

HERMIONE. The Emperor of Russia was my father. O that he were alive, and here beholding His daughter’s trial! that he did but see The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes Of pity, not revenge!

Enter Officers with Cleomenes and Dion.

OFFICER. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice, That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought This seal’d-up oracle, by the hand deliver’d Of great Apollo’s priest; and that since then You have not dared to break the holy seal, Nor read the secrets in’t.

CLEOMENES, DION. All this we swear.

LEONTES. Break up the seals and read.

OFFICER. [_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!

HERMIONE. Praised!

LEONTES. Hast thou read truth?

OFFICER. Ay, my lord, even so As it is here set down.

LEONTES. There is no truth at all i’ th’ oracle: The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood.

Enter a Servant hastily.

SERVANT. My lord the king, the king!

LEONTES. What is the business?

SERVANT. O sir, I shall be hated to report it. The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear Of the queen’s speed, is gone.

LEONTES. How! gone?

SERVANT. Is dead.

LEONTES. Apollo’s angry, and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice.

[_Hermione faints._]

How now there?

PAULINA. This news is mortal to the queen. Look down And see what death is doing.

LEONTES. Take her hence: Her heart is but o’ercharg’d; she will recover. I have too much believ’d mine own suspicion. Beseech you tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life.

[_Exeunt Paulina and Ladies with Hermione._]

Apollo, pardon My great profaneness ’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 transported by my jealousies To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose Camillo for the minister to poison My friend Polixenes: which had been done, But that the good mind of Camillo tardied My swift 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 guest Unclasp’d my practice, quit his fortunes here, Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard Of all incertainties himself commended, No richer than his honour. How he glisters Thorough my rust! And how his piety Does my deeds make the blacker!

Enter Paulina.

PAULINA. Woe the while! O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, Break too!

FIRST LORD. What fit is this, good lady?