Leon. There is no truth at all i' the oracle: The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood. Enter a Servant, hastily. Serv. My lord the king, the king! Leon. What is the business? Serv. O sir, I shall be hated to report it: Leon. Serv. How! gone? Is dead. Leon. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice. [HERMIONE faints.] How now there? Paul. This news is mortal to the queen :-Look down, And see what death is doing. Leon. 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 Some remedies for life.—Apollo, pardon [Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERM. My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle !— I'll reconcile me to Polixenes; New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo, My friend Polixenes: which had been done, Not doing it, and being done: he, most humane, a Of how the queen may speed-of the issue of this charge. And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest Paul. Re-enter PAULINA. Woe the while! O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it, 1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady? Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? Of the young prince; whose honourable thoughts The sweetest, dearest creature's dead; and vengeance for 't Not dropp'd down yet. 1 Lord. The higher powers forbid! Paul. 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 Leon. 1 Lord. Say no more; Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I' the boldness of your speech. Paul. 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 the noble heart.-What 's gone, and what 's past help, 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: The love I bore your queen,-lo, fool, again !— Who is lost too: Take your patience to you, Leon. Thou didst speak but well, When most the truth; which I receive much better To the dead bodies of my queen, and son : I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me [Exeunt. SCENE III-Bohemia. A desert Country near the Sea. Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner. b Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon The deserts of Bohemia? Mar. Ant. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get aboard; Mar. Make your best haste; and go not Too far i' the land: 't is like to be loud weather; a We follow the metrical arrangement of the original. In all the modern editions the lines are distorted as follows: "Shall be my recreation: so long as Nature will bear up with this exercise, We claim no merit for having first pointed out these abominable corruptions of the text; but we do most earnestly exhort those who reprint Shakspere--and the very act of reprinting is in some sort a tribute to him—not to continue to present him in this mangled shape. If the freedom and variety of his versification were offensive to those who had been trained in the school of Pope, let it be remembered that we have now come back to the proper estimation of a nobler rhythm; and that Shakspere, of all the great dramatists, appears to have held the true mean, between a syllabic monotony on the one hand, and a licence running into prose on the other. b Perfect-assured. Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey, that keep upon 't. I have heard, (but not believ'd,) the spirits of the dead So fill'd, and so becoming: in pure white robes, My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me; There weep, I prithee, call 't: for this ungentle business, I did in time collect myself; and thought I will be squar'd by this. I do believe [Exit. [Laying down the Child. |