SCENE IV.

I have too much believ'd mine own fufpicion:
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon
My great prophaneness 'gainst thine oracle !
I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,

New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo,
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy:
For, being transported by my jealousies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister to poifon

My friend Polixenes; which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied

My swift command; though I with death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,

Not doing it, and being done; he (most humane,
And fill'd with honour) to my kingly guest
Unclasp'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.

Enter Paulina.

Pau. Wo the while!

O, cut my lace, left my heart, cracking it,

Break too!

Lord. Alas! what fit is this, good lady?

Pau. What studied torments, tyrant, haft for me?

What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling? burning In leads or oils ? what old or newer torture

Muft

Must I receive? whofe every word deferves
To taste of thy most worst. Thy tyranny,
Together working with thy jealoufies,

Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine, o! think what they have done,
And then run mad indeed; ftark mad; for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray'dft Polixenes, 'twas nothing;
That did but fhow thee of a foul inconstant
And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would'st have poifon'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a king: poor trefpaffes,
More monftrous standing by; whereof I reckon
The cafting forth to crows thy baby-daughter,
To be, or none, or little; though a devil
Would have fhed water out of fire, ere don't:
Nor is't directly lay'd to thee, the death
Of the young prince, whofe honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one fo tender) cleft the heart
That could conceive a grofs and foolish fire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Lay'd to thy answer; but the last, o, lords,
When I have faid, cry, wo! the queen, the queen,
The sweetest creature's dead; and vengeance for't
Not drop'd down yet.

Lord. The higher powers forbid!

Pau. I fay, fhe's dead: 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,

you

Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll ferve
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, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and ftill winter

In storm perpetual, could not move the gods

To look that way thou wert.

Leo. Go on, go on:

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deferv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.

Lord. Say no more;

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I'th' boldness of your speech.

Pau. I am forry for❜t:

All faults I make, when I fhall come to know them,
I do repent: alas, I've show'd too much

The rashness of a woman; he is touch'd

To th' noble heart. What's gone, and what's past help,
Should be paft grief: do not receive affliction

At my petition, I beseech you; rather

Let me be punish'd, that have minded you

Of what you fhould forget. Now, good my liege,

Sir, royal fir, forgive a foolish woman

The love I bore your queen-lo, fool again!

I'll speak 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 didft speak 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 causes of their death appear unto
Our shame perpetual: once a day, I'll visit

The chapel where they lie; and tears, shed there,
Shall be my recreation. Long as nature
Will bear up with this exercise, so long

I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me
To these my sorrows.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

Ant.

A defert country; the fea at a little diftance.

Enter Antigonus, with a child; and a Mariner.

T

HOU art perfect then, our fhip hath touch'd upon
The deferts of Bithynia?

Mar. Ay, and fear

We've landed in ill time: the fkies look grimly,
And threaten present blusters. 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 inftantly.

Mar. I'm glad at heart

To be fo rid o'th' business.

Ant. Come, poor babe;

I have heard, but not believ'd, the spirits 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, she did approach

My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me,

[Exit.

And,

And, gafping to begin fome speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her. Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better difpofition,
Hath made thy person 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 business

Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more. And fo, with fhrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself, 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 fhould here be lay'd,
Either for life or death, upon the earth
Of its right father. Bloffom, speed thee well!

[laying down the child.

There lie; and there thy character: there these;
Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty one,
And still 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 accurs'd 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 chase;

I am gone for ever.

[Exit purfued by a bear.