A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince,-here standing,
To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
As I weigh grief," which I would spare for honour,
"T is a derivative from me to mine,

And only that I stand for. I appeal

To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,

With what encounter so uncurrent I

At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,
(With whom I am accus'd) I do confess
I lov'd him, as in honour he requir'd,—
With such a kind of love as might become
A lady like me; with a love, even such,
So and no other, as yourself commanded :
Which not to have done, I think had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude

To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke,

Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,

I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd
For me to try how: all I know of it,
Is that Camillo was an honest man;

And why he left your court, the gods themselves,
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

LEON. You knew of his departure, as you know

have underta'en to do in 's absence.

What you HER. Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not :

d

(Those of your fact are so,) so past all truth;
Which to deny, concerns more than avails; for as
Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
No father owning it, (which is, indeed,
More criminal in thee than it) so thou
Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage,
Look for no less than death.(1)

HER.
Sir, spare your threats;
The bug which you would fright me with, I seek.
To me can life be no commodity:

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

But know not how it went: my second joy,
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
I am barr'd, like one infectious: my third comfort,
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth,
Hal'd out to murder: myself on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs.
To women of all fashion ;-lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i' the open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die? Therefore, proceed.
But yet hear this; mistake me not ;—no life,—
I prize it not a straw :-but for mine honour,
(Which I would free) if I shall be condemn'd
Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else,
But what your jealousies awake,-I tell you
'Tis rigour, and not law.-Your honours all,
I do refer me to the oracle :

This is not remarkably perspicuous; the sense appears to be,— By what unwarrantable familiarity have I lapsed, that I should be made to stand as a public criminal thus?

c in the level-] To be in the level is to be within the range or compass;" and therefore when under his covert or pertision he is gotten within his levell and hath the Winde fit and certaine, then hee shall make choice of his marke," &c.--MARKHAM'S Hunger's Prevention, 1621, p. 45.

d (Those of your fact-] Those of your crime. Thus, in "Pericles," Act IV. Sc. 3,

"Becoming well thy fact."

in it most innocent mouth,-] See note (b), p. 214.

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 poison

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 hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended.
No richer than his honour, how he glisters
Thorough my rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!

In leads or oils ? what old or newer torture
Must I receive, whose every word deserves
To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny
Together working with thy jealousies,-
Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine !-O, think what they have done,
And then run mad indeed,-stark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 't was nothing,
That did but show thee of a fool, inconstant
And damnable ingrateful; nor was 't much,
Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a king;—poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter,
To be or none, or little,-though 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, whose honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart
That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: but the last,-O, lords,

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
As I would do the gods.-But, O, thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir: therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees,
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter,
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.

LEON.
Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.

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

b

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 speak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember you of my own lord,
Who is lost too: take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.

LEON.
Thou didst speak but well,
When most 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 son:
One grave shall be for both; upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto

SCENE III.-Bohemia. A desert Country near the Sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS with the Babe; and a Mariner.

ANT. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon

Ay, my lord; and fear

The deserts of Bohemia?
MAR.
We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly,
And threaten present blusters; in my conscience,
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry,
And frown upon us.

ANT. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get aboard;

Look to thy bark; I'll not be long before
I call upon thee.

MAR. Make your best haste; and go not
Too far i' the land: 't is like to be loud weather;
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
Of prey that keep upon ❜t.

ANT.

I'll follow instantly.

MAR.

To be so rid o' the business.

ANT.

Go thou away:

I am glad at heart

[Exit. Come, poor babe :

I have heard (but not believ'd) the spirits o' the

dead

May walk again: if such 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 side, some, another;
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill'd, and so becoming in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me;
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her: Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,

d So fill'd, and so becoming:] Mr. Collier's annotator suggests, and Mr. Collier adopts, an alteration which at once destroys the meaning of the poet, and converts a beauteous image into one pre-eminently ludicrous:

"So fill'd, and so o'er-running"!

"So becoming" here means, so self-restrained: not as it is usually explained, so decent, or so dignified. Compare the following in "Romeo and Juliet," Act IV. Sc. 2,

"I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty."

Hath made thy person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, Places remote enough are in Bohemia,

There weep, and leave it, crying; and, for the babe

Is counted lost 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 so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself; and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys;
Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do believe
Hermione hath suffer'd death; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid,
Either for life or death, upon the earth
Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well!—
[Laying down the Child.
There lie; and there thy character: there these ;—
[Laying down a bundle.

a

Which may, if Fortune please both breed thee, (pretty!)

And still rest thine."-The storm begins :-poor wretch,

That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd
To loss and what may follow!-Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds: and most accurs'd am I
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell!
The day frowns more and more:-thou 'rt like to
have

A lullaby too rough :-I never saw
The heavens so dim by day.-

[Noise without of Hunters and Dogs. A savage clamour!Well may I get aboard!-[Sees a Bear.] This is the chase!

I am gone for ever! [Exit, pursued by the Bear.

Enter an old Shepherd.

SHEP. I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting-Hark you now!— Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and

athy character:] Some ciphers and the name, "Perdita," by which the child hereafter might be recognised.

b

Blossom, speed thee well!

There lie; and there thy character: there these;-
Which may, if Fortune please both breed thee, (pretty!)
And still rest thine.]

The meaning is manifestly," Poor Blossom, good speed to thee! which may happen, despite thy present desolate condition, if Fortune please to adopt thee, (thou pretty one!) and remain thy constant friend;" the intermediate line,-" There lie," &c. being, of course, parenthetical. From the punctuation hitherto adopted,"Blossom, speed thee well!

There lie; and there thy character; there these;

two-and-twenty hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master; if anywhere I have them, 't is by the sea-side, browzing of ivy.(4) Good luck, an 't be thy will!-What have we here? [Taking up the Babe.] Mercy on 's, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one: sure, some scape though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hollaed but even now.-Whoa, ho hoa!

CLO. [Without.] Hilloa, loa!

SHEP. What, art so near? If thou 'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither.

Enter Clown.

What ailest thou, man?

CLO. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land—but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

SHEP. Why, boy, how is it?

CLO. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore-but that's not to the point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land-service,-to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman :—but to make an end of the ship,-to see how the sea flap-dragoned it :-but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; -and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather.

SHEP. Name of mercy! when was this, boy? CLO. Now, now; I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under

Which may, if Fortune please, both breed thee pretty,
And still rest thine,"

the editors, one and all, must have supposed Antigonus to anticipate that the rich clothes, &c. which he leaves with the child, might breed it beautiful and prove of permanent utility to it in its after course of life.

c A boy or a child, I wonder?] "I am told, that in some of our inland counties, a female infant, in contradistinction to a male one, is still termed, among the peasantry,-a child."-STELVENS. In support of this, Mr. Halliwell quotes the following from Hole's MS. Glossary of Devonshire Words, collected about 1780, "A child, a female infant."

d the sea flap-dragoned it :-] This may mean,-swallowed it as our old revellers did a flap-dragon.