Shall fhe, within my power. Enter PAULINA, with a Child. I LORD. You must not enter. PAUL. Nay, rather, good my lords, be fecond to me: Fear you his tyrannous paffion more, alas, Than the queen's life? a gracious innocent foul; More free, than he is jealous. ANT. That's enough. [manded I ATTEN. Madam, he hath not flept to-night; comNone fhould come at him. PAUL. Not fo hot, good fir; I come to bring him fleep. 'Tis fuch as you,→ Do come with words as med'cinal as true; LEON. What noise there, ho? PAUL. No noise, my lord; but needful conference, About fome goflips for your highness. LEON. HOW?. Away with that audacious lady: Antigonus, I charg'd thee, that the fhould not come about me ; ANT. I told her so, my lord, On your displeasure's peril, and on mine, She should not vifit you. LEON. What, canft not rule her? PAUL. From all dishonesty, he can in this, (Unless he take the course that you have done, Commit me, for committing honour,) truft it, He shall not rule me. ANT, Lo you now; you hear! When she will take the rein, I let her run; PAUL. Good my liege, I come,— And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess LEON. Good queen! [queen; PAUL. Good queen, my lord, good queen: I fay, good And would by combat make her good, fo were I A man, the worst about you. LEON. Force her hence. PAUL. Let him, that makes but trifles of his eyes, LEON. Out! [Laying down the child. A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o'door: A most intelligencing bawd! PAUL. Not fo: I am as ignorant of that, as you In fo entitling me: and no lefs honeft Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant, LEON. Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard : Thou, dotard, [To ANTIGONUS.] thou art woman-tir'd, unroofted By thy dame Partlet here,-take up the bastard; Take't up, I fay; give't to thy crone PAUL. For ever Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Tak'ft up the princefs, by that forced bafenefs Which he has put upon't! LEON. He dreads his wife. PAUL. SO, I would, you did; then, 'twere paft all doubt, You'd call your children yours. LEON. A neft of traitors! ANT. I am none, by this good light. PAUL. Nor I; nor any, But one, that's here; and that's himself: for he His hopeful fon's, his babe's, betrays to flander, Whofe fting is sharper than the fword's; and will not (For, as the cafe now ftands, it is a curfe He cannot be compell'd to't,) once remove LEON. A callat, Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her husband, And now baits me! That brat is none of mine; It is the iffue of Polixenes : Hence with it; and, together with the dam, Commit them to the fire. PAUL. It is yours; And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his fmiles ; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours Her children not her husband's! LEON. A grofs hag!— And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, ANT. Hang all the hufbands, That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself LEON. Once more, take her hence. PAUL. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. LEON. I'll have thee burn'd. PAUL. I care not: It is an heretick, that makes the fire, Not fhe, which burns in't. I'll not call I'll not call you tyrant; But this most cruel ufage of your queen (Not able to produce more accufation Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,) fomething favours LEON. On your allegiance, Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? fhe durft not call me fo, If she did know me one. Away with her. PAUL. I pray you do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove fend her A better guiding spirit !-What need these hands?— You, that are thus fo tender o'er his follies, Will never do him good, not one of you. So, foFarewell; we are gone. [Exit. LEON. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.— My child? away with't!-even thou, that haft A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence, And see it instantly confum'd with fire; Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up ftraight : ANT. I did not, fir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, I LORD. We can; my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. I LORD. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit: Paft, and to come,) that you do change this purpose; Lead on to fome foul issue: We all kneel. LEON. I am a feather for each wind that blows: Shall I live on, to fee this baftard kneel And call me father? Than curfe it then. Better burn it now, You, that have been so tenderly officious |