The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

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 charged 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 (to Leontes) 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 (to Lords)

  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.

  She lays down the babe

  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 (to Lords)

  Traitors,

  Will you not push her out?

  (To Antigonus)

  Give her the bastard.

  Thou dotard, thou art woman-tired, unroosted

  By thy Dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard,

  Take’t up, I say. Give’t to thy crone.

  PAULINA (to Antigonus)

  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 compelled to’t—once remove

  The root of his opinion, which is rotten

  As ever oak or stone was sound.

  LEONTES (to Lords)

  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 (to Antigonus)

  A gross hag!—

  And lozel, thou art worthy to be hanged,

  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 ha’ 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-hinged fancy—something

  savours

  Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,

  Yea, scandalous to the world.

  LEONTES (to Antigonus)

  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 (to Antigonus)

  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 consumed 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 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.

  A 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.

  LEONTES

  I am a feather for each wind t
hat 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-tongued 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; (to the babe) and

  blessing

  Against this cruelty, fight on thy side,

  Poor thing, condemned to loss.

  Exit with the babe

  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 arrived from Delphos, are both landed,

  Hasting to th’ court.

  A LORD (to Leontes)

  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 accused, 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 severally

  3.1 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’ off’ring!

  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 th‘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 sealed up,

  Shall the contents discover, something rare

  Even then will rush to knowledge. Go. Fresh horses!

  And gracious be the issue.

  Exeunt

  3.2 Enter Leontes, Lords, and Officers

  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 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.

  OFFICER

  It is his highness’ pleasure

  That the Queen appear in person here in court.

  Enter Hermione guarded, with Paulina and Ladies

  Silence.

  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 received. 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 devised

  And played 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 strained t’appear thus. If one jot beyond

  The bound of honour, or in act or will

  That way inclining, hardened 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 accused, I do confess

  I loved him as in honour he required;

  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

  Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely

  That it was yours. Now for conspiracy,

  I know not how it tastes, though it be dished

  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 dreamed 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 barred, like one infectious. My third comfort,

  Starred most unluckily, is from my breast,

  The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth,

  Haled out to murder; myself on every post

  Proclaimed a strumpet, with immodest hatred

  The childbed privilege denied, which ‘longs

  To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried