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William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare.  1914.
 
The Winter’s Tale
 
Act II. Scene III.
 
The Same.  A Room in the Palace.
 
Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and other Attendants.
  Leon.  Nor night, nor day, no rest; it is but weakness
To bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If
The cause were not in being,—part o’ the cause,        5
She the adultress; for the harlot king
Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank
And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she
I can hook to me: say, that she were gone,
Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest        10
Might come to me again. Who’s there?
  First Atten.        [Advancing.]  My lord?
  Leon.  How does the boy?
  First Atten.  He took good rest to-night;
’Tis hop’d his sickness is discharg’d.        15
  Leon.        To see his nobleness!
Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,
He straight declin’d, droop’d, took it deeply,
Fasten’d and fix’d the shame on ’t in himself,
Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,        20
And downright languish’d. Leave me solely: go,
See how he fares.  [Exit Attendant.]—Fie, fie! no thought of him;
The very thought of my revenges that way
Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty,
And in his parties, his alliance; let him be        25
Until a time may serve: for present vengeance,
Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes
Laugh at me; make their pastime at my sorrow:
They should not laugh, if I could reach them, nor
Shall she within my power.        30
 
Enter PAULINA, with a Child.
  First Lord.        You must not enter.
  Paul.  Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me:
Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,
Than the queen’s life? a gracious innocent soul,        35
More free than he is jealous.
  Ant.        That’s enough.
  Sec. Atten.  Madam, he hath not slept to-night; commanded
None should come at him.
  Paul.        Not so hot, good sir;        40
I come to bring him sleep. ’Tis such as you,
That creep like shadows by him and do sigh
At each his needless heavings, such as you
Nourish the cause of his awaking: I
Do come with words as med’cinal as true,        45
Honest as either, to purge him of that humour
That presses him from sleep.
  Leon        What noise there, ho?
  Paul.  No noise, my lord; but needful conference
About some gossips for your highness.        50
  Leon.        How!
Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus,
I charg’d thee that she should not come about me:
I knew she would.
  Ant.        I told her so, my lord,        55
On your displeasure’s peril, and on mine,
She should not visit you.
  Leon.        What! canst not rule her?
  Paul.  From all dishonesty he can: in this,
Unless he take the course that you have done,        60
Commit me for committing honour, trust it,
He shall not rule me.
  Ant.        La you now! you hear;
When she will take the rein I let her run;
But she’ll not stumble.        65
  Paul.        Good my liege, I come,
And I beseech you, hear me, who professes
Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dares
Less appear so in comforting your evils        70
Than such as most seem yours: I say, I come
From your good queen.
  Leon.        Good queen!
  Paul.  Good queen, my lord, good queen; I say, good queen;
And would by combat make her good, so were I        75
A man, the worst about you.
  Leon.        Force her hence.
  Paul.  Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
First hand me: on mine own accord I’ll off;
But first I’ll do my errand. The good queen,        80
For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter:
Here ’tis; commends it to your blessing.  [Laying down the Child.
  Leon.        Out!
A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o’ door:
A most intelligencing bawd!        85
  Paul.        Not so;
I am as ignorant in that as you
In so entitling me, and no less honest
Than you are mad; which is enough, I’ll warrant,
As this world goes, to pass for honest.        90
  Leon.        Traitors!
Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard.
[To ANTIGONUS.]  Thou dotard! thou art woman-tir’d, unroosted
By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard;
Take ’t up, I say; give ’t to thy crone.        95
  Paul.        For ever
Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak’st up the princess by that forced baseness
Which he has put upon ’t!
  Leon.        He dreads his wife.        100
  Paul.  So I would you did; then, ’twere past all doubt,
You’d call your children yours.
  Leon.        A nest of traitors!
  Ant.  I am none, by this good light.
  Paul.        Nor I; nor any        105
But one that’s here, and that’s himself; for he
The sacred honour of himself, his queen’s,
His hopeful son’s, his babe’s, betrays to slander,
Whose sting is sharper than the sword’s; and will not,—
For, as the case now stands, it is a curse        110
He cannot be compell’d to ’t,—once remove
The root of his opinion, which is rotten
As ever oak or stone was sound.
  Leon.        A callat
Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband        115
And now baits me! This brat is none of mine;
It is the issue of Polixenes:
Hence with it; and, together with the dam
Commit them to the fire!
  Paul.        It is yours;        120
And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge,
‘So like you, ’tis the worse.’ Behold, my lords,
Although the print be little, the whole matter
And copy of the father; eye, nose, lip,
The trick of’s frown, his forehead, nay, the valley,        125
The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek, his smiles,
The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:
And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it
So like to him that got it, if thou hast
The ordering of the mind too, ’mongst all colours        130
No yellow in ’t; lest she suspect, as he does,
Her children not her husband’s.
  Leon.        A gross hag!
And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang’d,
That wilt not stay her tongue.        135
  Ant.        Hang all the husbands
That cannot do that feat, you’ll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.
  Leon.        Once more, take her hence.
  Paul.  A most unworthy and unnatural lord        140
Can do no more.
  Leon.        I’ll ha’ thee burn’d.
  Paul.                I care not:
It is a heretic that makes the fire,
Not she which burns in ’t. I’ll not call you tyrant;        145
But this most cruel usage of your queen,—
Not able to produce more accusation
Than your own weak-hing’d fancy,—something savours
Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,
Yea, scandalous to the world.        150
  Leon.        On your allegiance,
Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant,
Where were her life? she durst not call me so
If she did know me one. Away with her!
  Paul.  I pray you do not push me; I’ll be gone.        155
Look to your babe, my lord; ’tis yours: Jove send her
A better guiding spirit! What need these hands?
You, that are thus so tender o’er his follies,
Will never do him good, not one of you.  [Exit.
  Leon.  Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.        160
My child! away with ’t!—even thou, that hast
A heart so tender o’er it, take it hence
And see it instantly consum’d with fire:
Even thou and none but thou. Take it up straight:
Within this hour bring me word ’tis done,—        165
And by good testimony,—or I’ll seize thy life,
With what thou else call’st thine. If thou refuse
And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;
The bastard brains with these my proper hands
Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;        170
For thou sett’st on thy wife.
  Ant.        I did not, sir:
These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
Can clear me in ’t.
  First Lord.        We can, my royal liege,        175
He is not guilty of her coming hither.
  Leon.  You are liars all.
  First Lord.  Beseech your highness, give us better credit:
We have always truly serv’d you, and beseech you
So to esteem of us; and on our knees we beg,        180
As recompense of our dear services
Past and to come, that you do change this purpose,
Which being so horrible, so bloody, must
Lead on to some foul issue. We all kneel.
  Leon.  I am a feather for each wind that blows.        185
Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel
And call me father? Better burn it now
Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live:
It shall not neither.—[To ANTIGONUS.]  You, sir, come you hither;
You that have been so tenderly officious        190
With Lady Margery, your midwife there,
To save this bastard’s life,—for ’tis a bastard,
So sure as thy beard’s grey,—what will you adventure
To save this brat’s life?
  Ant.        Any thing, my lord,        195
That my ability may undergo,
And nobleness impose: at least, thus much:
I’ll pawn the little blood which I have left,
To save the innocent: any thing possible.
  Leon.  It shall be possible. Swear by this sword        200
Thou wilt perform my bidding.
  Ant.        I will, my lord.
  Leon.  Mark and perform it,—seest thou!—for the fail
Of any point in ’t shall not only be
Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu’d wife,        205
Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee,
As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry
This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it
To some remote and desart place quite out
Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it,        210
Without more mercy, to its own protection,
And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune
It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,
On thy soul’s peril and thy body’s torture,
That thou commend it strangely to some place,        215
Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.
  Ant.  I swear to do this, though a present death
Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe:
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens
To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say,        220
Casting their savageness aside have done
Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous
In more than this deed doth require! And blessing
Against this cruelty fight on thy side,
Poor thing, condemn’d to loss!  [Exit with the Child.        225
  Leon.        No; I’ll not rear
Another’s issue.
 
Enter a Servant.
  Serv.        Please your highness, posts
From those you sent to the oracle are come        230
An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion,
Being well arriv’d from Delphos, are both landed,
Hasting to the court.
  First Lord.        So please you, sir, their speed
Hath been beyond account.        235
  Leon.        Twenty-three days
They have been absent: ’tis good speed; foretells
The great Apollo suddenly will have
The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords;
Summon a session, that we may arraign        240
Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath
Been publicly accus’d, so shall she have
A just and open trial. While she lives
My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me,
And think upon my bidding.  [Exeunt.        245
 
 
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