Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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 to-day 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 enfranchised, 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. A ROOM IN LEONTES’ PALACE.

  Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and Servants

  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’ the cause,

  She the adulteress; 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 Servant

  My lord?

  Leontes

  How does the boy?

  First Servant

  He took good rest to-night;

  ’Tis hoped his sickness is discharged.

  Leontes

  To see his nobleness!

  Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,

  He straight declined, 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 Servant

  Fie, fie! no thought of him:

  The 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, with a child

  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.

  Second 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 medicinal 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 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

  Good my liege, I come;

  And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess

  Myself your loyal servant, your physician,

  Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dare

  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? 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

  For ever

  Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou

  Takest 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’ld 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 la
te 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 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’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, lozel, 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 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

  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 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.

  First Lord

  Beseech your highness, give us better credit:

  We have always truly served you, and beseech you

  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. 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

  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.

  Leontes

  It shall be possible. Swear by this sword

  Thou wilt perform my bidding.

  Antigonus

  I will, my lord.

  Leontes

  Mark and perform it, see’st 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 liege-man 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

  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 the oracle are come

  An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion,

  Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed,

  Hasting to the 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 accused, so shall she have

  A just and open trial. While she lives

  My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me,

  And think upon my bidding.

  Exeunt

  ACT III

  SCENE I. A SEA-PORT IN SICILIA.

  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’ the offering!

  Cleomenes

  But of all, the burst

  And the ear-deafening voice o’ the oracle,

  Kin to Jove’s thunder, so surprised my sense.

  That I was nothing.

  Dion

  If the event o’ the 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 the 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. A COURT OF JUSTICE.

  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 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!

  Enter Hermione 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 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,