You have not dar'd to break the holy feal,
Nor read the fecrets, in't.
Cleo. Dion. All this we fwear.
Leo. Break up the feals, and read.
Of. Hermione is chaßte, Polixenes blameless, Camillo true Subject, Leontes a jealous Tyrant, bis innocent babe truly begotten, and the King hall live without an beir, if that which is loft be not found."
Lords. Now bleffed be the great Apollo!
Leo. Haft thou read the truth?
Offi. Ay, my Lord, even fo as here fet down. Leo. There is no truth at all i'th Oracle; The feffion fhall proceed; this is meer falfhood. Enter Servant.
Ser. My Lord the King, the King!
Leo. What is the bufinefs?
Ser. O Sir, I fhall be hated to report it. The Prince your fon, with meet conceit and fear Of the Queen's speed, is gone.
Leo. How gone?
Ser. Is dead.
Leo. Apollo's angry, and the heav'ns themselves
Do ftrike at my injuftice. How now there? [Her. faints.] Pau. This news is mortal to the Queen: look down
And fee what death is doing.
Leo. Take her hence;
Her heart is but o'er-charg'd; the will recover.
[Exeunt Paulina and Ladies with Hermione. SCENE IV.
I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion : Befeech you, tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon My great prophanenefs 'gainft thine Oracle, I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,
New woo my Queen, recall the good Camille, Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy. For being tranfported by my jealoufies To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chofe Camillo for the minifter to poifon
My friend Polixenes; which had been done, But that the good mind of Camillo tardied My fwift command; tho' I with death, and with Reward did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done; he (moft humane, And fill'd with honour) to my kingly guess Unclafp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here, Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard Of all incertainties himself commended, No richer than his honour: how he glifters Through my dark ruft! and how his piety Does my deeds make the blacker!
SCENE V.
Pau. Woe the while!
O cut my lace, left my heart, cracking it,
Lord. Alas! What fit is this, good lady?
Pau. What ftudied torments, tyrant, haft for me? What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling? burning In leads or oils? what old or newer torture
Muft I receive? whose every word deferves To tafte of thy moft worft. Thy tyranny Together working with thy jealoufies Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle For girls of nine, Oh! think what they have done, And then run mad indeed; ftark mad; for all Thy by-gone fooleries were but fpices of it. That thou betray'dft Polixènes, 'twas nothing, That did but fhew thee of a foul inconftant And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much, Thou would't have poifon'd good Camillo's honour, To have him kill a King: poor trefpaffes, More monftrous ftanding by; whereof I reckon The cafting forth to crows thy baby-daughter, To be, or none, or little; tho' a devil Would have fhed water out of fire, ere don't: Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death Of the young Prince, whofe honourable thoughts (Thoughts high for one fo tender) cleft the heart That could conceive a gross and foolish fire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no, Laid to thy answer; but the laft, O Lords,
When I have faid, cry woe! the Queen, the Queen, The sweetest creature's dead; and vengeance for't
Not dropt down yet.
Lord. The higher powers forbid !
Pau. I fay fhe's head: I'll fwear't. If word, nor oath Prevail not, go and fee: if you can bring
Tincture or luftre in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll ferve you As I would do the Gods. But, O thou tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier Than all thy vows can ftir: therefore betake thee To nothing but defpair. A thousand knees, Ten thousand years together, naked, fafting, Upon a barren mountain, and ftill winter In ftorm perpetual, could not move the Gods To look that way thou wert.
Thou canst not speak too much, I have defery'd All tongues to talk their bittereft.
Howe'er the bufinefs goes, you have made fault I'th' boldness of your fpeech.
All faults I make, when I fhall come to know them, I do repent: alas, I've fhew'd too much
The rafhness of a woman; he is touch'd
To th' 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- I'll fpeak of her no more, nor of your children; I'll not remember you of my own Lord,
Who is loft too. Take you your patience to you, And I'll fay nothing.
Leo. Thou didst fpeak but well,
When moft the truth; which I receive much better Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee bring me To the dead bodies of my Queen and fon,
One grave shall be for both.
Upon them shall The caufes of their death appear unto
Our fhame perpetual; once a day I'll vifit The chappel where they lye, and tears shed there Shall be my recreation. Long as nature Will bear up with this exercife, fo long
I daily vow to use it.
To these my forrows.
Changes to Bithynia. A defart Country; the Sea at a little diftance.
Enter Antigonus with a Child, and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art perfect then, our fhip hath touch'd upon The deferts of Bithynia?
We've landed in ill time: the fkies look grimly, And threaten present blufters. In my conscience, The heav'ns with that we have in hand are angry, And frown upon's.
Ant. Their facred wills be done! get thee aboard, Look to thy bark, I'll not be long before I call on thee,
Mar. Make your best hafte, and go not
Too far i'th' land; 'tis like to be loud weather. Befides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon't.
Ant. Go thou away.
I'll follow instantly.
Mar. I'm glad at heart To be fo rid o'th' bufinels.
Ant. Come, poor babe;
I have heard, but not believ'd, the fpirits o'th' dead May walk again; if fuch thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one fide, fome another, I never faw a veffel of like forrow
So fill'd, and fo becoming; in pure white robes, Like very fanctity, fhe did approach My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me, And, gafping to begin fome fpeech, her eyes Became two fpouts; the fury fpent, anon Did this break from her. Good Antigonus, Since fate, against thy better difpofition, Hath made thy perfon for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, Places remote enough are in Bithynia,
There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe Is counted loft for ever, Perdita
I pr'ythee call't. For this ungentle bufinefs Put on thee by my Lord, thou ne'er fhalt fee Thy wife Paulina more.
And fo, with fhrieks, She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect my felf, and thought This was fo, and no flumber; dreams are toys, Yet for this once, yea, fuperftitiously, I will be fquar'd by this. I do believe Hermione hath fuffer'd death, and that Apollo would, this being indeed the iffue Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, Either for life or death, upon the earth Of its right father. Bloffom, fpeed thee well!
There lye, and there thy character: there thefe,
Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty one, And ftill reft thine. The ftorm begins; poor wretch, That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd
To lofs, and what may follow. Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds: and moft accurft am I To be by oath enjoin'd to this.. Farewel!
The day frowns more and more; thou art like to have A lullaby too rough: I never faw
The heav'ns fo dim by day. A favage clamour,
Well may I get aboard! this is the chace,
Shep. I would there were no age between thirte n and
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