And only that I stand for. I appeal
To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
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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
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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
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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,
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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:
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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,
Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,
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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.
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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,
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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
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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:
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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,
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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 it most innocent mouth)
Hal’d out to murder; myself on every post
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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,
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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
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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!
A LORD This your request
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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
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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
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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.
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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!
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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 Servant.
SERVANT My lord the king, the king!
LEONTES What is the business?
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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?
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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
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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:
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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
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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
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(Which you knew great) and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties, himself commended,<
br />
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!
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O cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,
Break too!
A LORD What fit is this, good lady?
PAULINA What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling?
In leads or oils? What old or newer torture
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Must I receive, whose every word deserves
To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny,
Together working with thy jealousies
(Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine), O think what they have done,
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And then run mad indeed: stark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray’dst Polixenes, ’twas nothing;
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant
And damnable ingrateful: nor was’t much,
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Thou would’st have poison’d good Camillo’s honour,
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter,
To be or none or little; though a devil
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Would have shed water out of fire, ere done’t:
Nor is’t directly laid to thee the death
Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart
That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
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Blemish’d his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: but the last – O lords,
When I have said, cry ‘woe!’ – the queen, the queen,
The sweet’st, dear’st creature’s dead: and vengeance for’t
Not dropp’d down yet.
A LORD The higher powers forbid!
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PAULINA
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!
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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
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In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.
LEONTES Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv’d
All tongues to talk their bitt’rest.
A LORD Say no more:
Howe’er the business goes, you have made fault
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I’th’ boldness of your speech.
PAULINA I am sorry for’t:
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent. Alas! I have show’d too much
The rashness of a woman: he is touch’d
To th’ noble heart. What’s gone and what’s past help
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Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction
At my petition; I beseech you, rather
Let me be punish’d, that have minded you
Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
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The love I bore your queen – lo, fool again!
I’ll speak of her no more, nor of your children:
I’ll not remember you of my own lord
(Who is lost too): take your patience to you,
And I’ll say nothing.
LEONTES Thou didst speak but well
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When most the truth: which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me
To the dead bodies of my queen and son:
One grave shall be for both: upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto
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Our shame perpetual. Once a day I’ll visit
The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there
Shall be my recreation. So long as nature
Will bear up with this exercise, so long
I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me
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To these sorrows. Exeunt.
3.3 Enter ANTIGONUS with the babe, and a Mariner.
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 567