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.

Leon.

A callat,

Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her hus

band,

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.

Paul.

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 his frown, his forehead; nay, the val

ley,

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.

8

And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd,

That wilt not stay her tongue.

Ant.

A gross hag!

Hang all the husbands,

That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.

7 No yellow in't;] Yellow is the colour of jealousy.

8 And, lozel,] A term of contempt, meaning worthless, dishonest.

Leon.

Once more, take her hence. Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord

Can do no more.

Leon.

Paul.

I'll have thee burn'd.

It is an heretick, that makes the fire,

I care not:

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 sa

vours

Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,

Yea, scandalous to the world.

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.

[Exit.

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 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 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:

These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,

Can clear me in't.

1 Lord.

We can; my royal liege,

He is not guilty of her coming hither.

Leon. You are liars all.

1 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.

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 adventure
To save this brat's life?

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.

Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword," Thou wilt perform my bidding.

9

Ant.
I will, my lord.
Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) for
the fail

Swear by this sword,] It was anciently the custom to swear by the cross on the handle of a sword.

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,1
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!

Leon.

Another's issue.

1 Atten.

[Exit, with the Child.

No, I'll not rear

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; foretels,

1

commend it strangely to some place,] Commit it to some place, as a stranger, without more provision.

The great Apollo suddenly will have
The truth of this appear. Prepare you,
Summon a session, that we may arraign
Our most disloyal lady: for, as she hath
Been publickly 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.

lords;

Leave me;

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The same.

A Street in some Town.

Enter CLEOMENES and DION.

Cleo. 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!

Cleo.

But, of all, the burst

And the ear-deafening voice o'the oracle,
Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpriz'd my sense,
That I was nothing.

If the event o'the journey

Dion.
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.2

Cleo.

Great Apollo,

2 The time is worth the use on't.] The time is worth the use on't, means, the time which we have spent in visiting Delos, has recompensed us for the trouble of so spending it.