Her. Sir, fpare your threats;

The bug which you would fright me with I feek:
To me can life be no commodity;

The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,
I do give loft, for I do feel it gone,

But know not how it went. My fecond joy,
The first-fruits of my body, from his prefence
I'm barr'd like one infectious. My third comfort,
Starr'd moft unluckily, is from my breast
(The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth)
Hal'd out to murder; myself on every poft
Proclaim'd a ftrumpet with immodeft hatred;
The child-bed privilege deny'd which 'longs
To women of all fafhion: laftly, hurried
Here to this place, i'th' open air, before

I have got ftrength of limbs. And now, my Liege,
Tell me what bleffings I have here alive,
That I fhould fear to die? therefore proceed:
But yet hear this; miftake me not; no! life,
I prize it not a ftraw, but for mine honour
Which I would free; if I fhall be condemn'd
Upon furmifes, all proofs fleeping elfe
But what your jealoufies awake, I tell you
'Tis rigour and not law. Your honours all,
I do refer me to the Oracle:

Lord. This your request

Enter Dion and Cleomines.

Is altogether juft; therefore bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his Oracle."

Her. The Emperor of Ruffia was my father,
Oh that he were alive, and here beholding
His daughter's tryal; that he did 'but fee
The flatness of my mifery; yet with eyes
Of pity, not revenge!

Offi. You here fhall fwear upon the fword of juftice, That you, Cleomines and Dion, have

Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought
This feal'd-up Oracle, by the hand deliver'd

Of great Apollo's Prieft; and that fince then

You

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.

Offi. Hermione is chafte, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true Subject, Leontes a jealous Tyrant, bis innocont babe truly begotten, and the King fbull live without an heir, if that which is loft be not found.

Lords. Now bleffed be the great Apollo!

Her. Praised!

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 falíhood.
Enter Servant.

Ser. My Lord the King, the King!

Leo. What is the business?

Ser. O Sir, I fhall be hated to report it.
The Prince your fon, with meer 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; fhe 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 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 tranfported by my jealoufies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chofe
Camille for the minister to poison

My

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 (most 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. Enter Paulina.

Pau, Woe the while!

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

Break too.

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

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

What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling ? burn

In leads or oils ? what old or newer torture
Muft 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, 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 Polixenes, 'twas nothing,
That did but fhew thee of a foul inconftant
And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much,
That wouldst 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 shed water out of fire, ere done't:
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
Of the young Prince, whofe honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart
That could conceive a grofs and foolish fire

[ing

Blemish'd

Blemith'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 dead: I'll fwear't. If word, nor oath
Prevail not, go and fee: if you can bring
Tincture or luftré in her lip, or 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 despair. 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.

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 bufinefs goes, you have made fault
I'th' boldness of your speech.

Pau. I'm forry for't.

All faults I make, when I fhall come to know them,
I do repent: alas, I've fhew'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 befeech you; rather

Let me be punish'd, that have minded you

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

Sir, royal Sir, forgive a foolish woman

The love I bore your Queen-lo, fcol 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 didst fpeak but well,
VOL. IV.

E

When

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. Come and lead me
To thefe my forrows.

[Exit.

Changes to Bithynia. A defart Country; the Sea at a little distance.

Enter Antigonus with a Child, and a Mariner. Ant. Thou 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 prefent 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' bufinefs.

Ant. Come, poor babe;

[Exit.

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 laft night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one fide, fome another,
never faw a veffel of like forrow

So