[dare not

Cam. I dare not know, my lord. Pot. How! dare not? do not. Do you know, and Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must; And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, iour chang'd complexions are to me a mirror, Which shews me mine chang'd too: for I must be party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter'd with it.

A

Cam.
There is a sickness
Which puts some of us in distemper; but
1 cannot name the disease; and it is caught
Of you that yet are well.
Pol.

How! caught of me?
Make me not sighted like the basilisk:

I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better
By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,

As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto
Clerk-like, experienc'd, which no less adorns
Our gentry, than our parents' noble names,
In whose success we are gentle, I beseech you,
If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not
In ignorant concealment.

Cam.

I may not answer.

Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answer'd.-Dost thou hear, Camillo,

I conjure thee, by all the parts of man,

I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand;
Be pilot to me, and thy places shall
Still neighbour mine: My ships are ready, and
My people did expect my hence departure
Two days ago.-This jealousy

Is for a precious creature as she's rare,
Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,
Must it be violent: and as he does conceive
He is dishonour'd by a man which ever
Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must
In that be made more bitter. Fear o'erstades me;
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo;
I will respect thee as a father; if

Thou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid.

Cam. It is in mine authority, to command

The keys of all the posterns: Please your niganess

as not this suit of mine,-that thou declare

What incidency thou dost guess of harm

Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near;

Which way to be prevented, if to be;

If not, how best to bear it.

Cam.
Sir, I'll tell you ;
Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him

That I think honourable: Therefore, mark my counsel;
Which must be even as swiftly follow'd, as
I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me
Cry, lost, and so good-night.

Pol.

On, good Camillo. Cam. I am appointed him to murder you. Pol. By whom, Camillo ?

Cam.

By the king.

Pol.
For what?
Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,
As he had seen 't or been an instrument

To vice you to 't, that you have touch'd his queen
Forbiddenly.
Pol.

O, then my best blood turn

To an infected jelly; and my name
Be yok'd with his, that did betray the best!
Turn then my freshest reputation to

A savour, that may strike the dullest nostril
Where I arrive; and my approach be shunn'd,
Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection
That e'er was heard, or read!

Cam.
Swear his thought over
By each particular star in heaven, and
By all their influences, you may as well
Forbid the sea for to obey the moon,
As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake
The fabric of his folly; whose foundation
Is pil'd upon his faith, and will continue
The standing of his body.

Pol. How should this grow? Cam. I know not: but, I am sure, 'tis safer to Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty,That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you Shall bear along impawn'd,-away to night. Your followers I will whisper to the business:

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The same.

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies. Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, "Tis past enduring.

1 Lady.
Come, my gracious lord.
Shall I be your play-fellow?
Mam.

No, I'll none of you.

1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord?

Mam. You'll kiss me hard; and speak to me as if

I were a baby still.-I love you better. 2 Lady. And why so, my good lord? Mam.

Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best; so that there be not Too much hair there, but in a semi-circle, Or half-moon made with a pen.

2 Lady. Who taught you this? Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces.--Pray now What colour are your eye-brows?

1 Lord. I had rather you did lack, than I, my lord, Upon this ground: and more it would content me To have her honour true, than your suspicion; Be blam'd for't how you might,

Leon. Why, what need we Commune with you of this? but rather follow Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative Calls not your counsels; but our natural goodness Imparts this which-if you (or stupified, Or seeming so in skill,) cannot, or will not, Relish as truth, like us; inform yourselves, We need no more of your advice: the matter, The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all Properly ours

Ant.

And I wish, my liege,

You had only in your silent judgment tried it, Without more overture.

Leon.

How could that be?
Either thou art most ignorant by age,
Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,
Added to their familiarity,

(Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture,
That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation,
But only seeing, all other circumstances

Made up to the deed,) doth push on this proceeding.

Yet, for a greater confirmation,

(For, in an act of this importance, 'twere
Most piteous to be wild,) I have dispatch'd in post,
To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple,
Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know
Of stuff'd sufficiency: Now, from the oracle,
They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,
Shall stop. or spur me.
Have I done well?

1 Lord. Well done, my lord.

Leon. 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 the 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.

Ant. [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 and Attendants.

Paul. The keeper of the prison,-call to him; [Exit an Attendant. Let him have knowledge who I am.-Good lady! No court in Europe is too good for thee, What dost thou then in prison?--Now, good sir,

Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper. You know me, do vou not?

Keep.

[Exeunt Attend.

And, madam,

[Erit Keeper.

I must be present at your conference.
Paul. Well, be it so, pry'thee.
Here's such ado to make no stain a stain,
As passes colouring.

Re-enter Keeper, with EMILIA.

Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?
Emil. 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.
Paul. A boy?
Emil.
A daughter; and a goodly babe,
Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives
Much comfort in't: says My poor prisoner,
I am innocent as you.
Paul.

I dare be sworn:

These dangerous unsafe lunes o'the king! beshrew
He must be told on't, and he shall: the office [them '
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 shew't the king, and undertake to be
Her advocate to th' loudest: We do not know
How he may soften at the sight o'the child;
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.

Emil.
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 to-day, hammer'd of this design;
But durst not tempt a minister of honour,
Lest she should be denied.

Paul.

:

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

Emil.

Now be you blest for it!
I'll to the queen: Please you, come something nearer
Keep. Madam, if t please the queen to send the babe
I know not what I shall incur, to pass it,
Having no warrant.

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

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;
l'hrew off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,
And downright languish'd.-Leave me solely :-go,
See how he fares. [Erit Attend.] - Fye, fye! 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, with a child.

1 Lord. You must not enter. Paul. 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. Ant.

That's enough.

1 Attend. Madam, he hath not slept to-night; comNone should come at him. [manded Paul. 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. Leon. What noise there, ho? Paul No noise, my lord; but needful conference; About some gossips for your highness.

Leon.

How?

Away with that audacious lady: Antigonus,

It is yours;

I knew, she would. Ant.

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

Leon.

What, canst not rule her! Paul. From all dishonesty, he can in this, (Unless he take the course that you have done, Commit me, for committing honour,) trust it, Lo you now you hear!

He shall not rule me. Ant.

And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip,

The trick of his 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!

Leon.

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.

Paul. 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 need 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.

[Erit.

Leon. 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 sett'st on thy wife.
Ant.

I did not, sir:
Ihese lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
Can clear me in 't.

1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better creWe 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.

Leon. 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;
[TO ANTIGONUS.
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 adven-
To save this brat's life?
[ture

Ant.

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.
Leun. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword,

Thou wilt perform my bidding.

Ant. I will, my lord.

[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 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.

Ant. 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 doth require! and blessing,
Against this cruelty, fight on thy side,
Poor thing condemn'd to loss! [Exit, with the child.
Leon.
No, I'll not rear
Another's issue.

1 Atten.

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

1 Lord.

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

Leon. Twenty-three days They have been absent: 'Tis good speed; foretes, 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. And think upon my bidding.

ACT III.

Leave me,

[Exeunt.

The violent carriage of it