Leo. It shall be poffible; fwear by this Sword Thou wilt perform my bidding.
Leo. Mark and perform it; feeft thou? for the fail
Of any point in't, fhall not only be
Death to thy felf, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife,
Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee,
As thou art Liege-man to us, that thou carry
This female Baftard hence, and that thou bear it
To fome remote and defart Place, quite out
Of our Dominions; and that there thou leave it,
Without much Mercy, to its own Protection,
And favour of the Climate; as by ftrange Fortune
It came to us, I do in Juftice charge thee,
On thy Soul's Peril, and thy Body's Torture,
That thou commend it ftrangely to fome place,
Where Chance may nurfe or end it.
Take it up.
Ant. I fwear to do this; tho' a prefent Death
Had been more merciful. Come on, poor Babe,
Some powerful Spirit inftruct the Kites and Ravens
To be thy Nurfes. Wolves and Bears, they fay,
(Cafting their Savagenefs afide) have done
Like offices of Pity. Sir, be profperous
In more than this Deed does require; and Bleffing,
Against this Cruelty, fight on thy fide,
Poor thing condemn'd to Lofs.
Leo. No; I'll not rear
Another's Iffue.
Enter a Messenger.
Mef. Please your Highnefs, Pofts
From thofe you fent to th' Oracle, are come
An hour fince. Cleomines and Dion,
Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed,
Hafting to th' Court.
Lord. So please you, Sir, their speed
Hath been beyond Account.
Leo. Twenty three days
They have been abfent: 'tis good speed; foretels
The great Apollo fuddenly will have
The truth of this appear. Prepare you Lords,
Summon a Seffion, that we may Arraign
And play'd to take Spectators. For behold me,
A Fellow of the Royal Bed, which owe
A Moiety of the Throne: A great King's Daughter,
The Mother to a hopeful Prince, here ftanding
To prate and talk for Life, and Honour, fore
Who pleafe to come and hear. For Life, I prize it
As I weigh Grief (which I would fpare:) For Honour,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I ftand for. I appeal
To your own Confcience, Sir, before Polixenes
Came to your Court, how I was in
your Grace,
How merited to be fo; fince he came,
With what encounter fo uncurrent I
Have ftrain'd t'appear thus; if one jot beyond
The bounds of Honour, or in act, or will,
That way enclining, hardned be the Hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of Kin
Cry fie upon my Grave.
of those bolder Vices wanted
Lefs Impudence to gain-fay what they did,
Than to perform it first.
Her. That is true enough,
Tho' 'tis a faying, Sir, not due to me.
Leo. You will not own it.
Her. More than Miftrefs of;
What comes to me in name of fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,
With whom I am accus'd, I do confefs
I lov'd him, as in Honour he requir'd;
With fuch a kind of Love, as might become
A Lady like me; with a Love, even fuch,
So and no other, as your felf commanded:
Which not to have done, I think had been in me
Both Difobedience and Ingratitude
To you, and towards your Friends; whofe Love had spoke,
Even fince it could fpeak, from an Infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now for Confpiracy,
I know not how it tafts, tho' it be dish'd
For me to try how; all I know of it,
s, that Camillo was an honeft Man;
And why he left your Court, the Gods themselves,
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.
Leo. You knew of his departure, as you know
What you have underta'en to do in's abfence.
Her. Sir,
You fpeak a Language that I understand not ;
My Life ftands in the level of your Dreams,
Which I'll lay down.
Leo. Your Actions are my Dreams,
You had a Baftard by Polixenes,
And I but dream'd it: As you were paft all Shame,
(Those of your Fact are so) so past all Truth;
Which to deny, concerns more than avails: For as
Thy Brat hath been caft out, like to it self,
No Father owning it, (which is indeed
More criminal in thee, than it) fo thou
Shalt feel our Juftice, in whofe easiest Passage
Look for no less than Death.
Her. Sir, fpare your Threats;
The Bug which you would fright me with, I fack:
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,
And First-fruits of my Body, from his Prefence
I am barr'd like one infectious. My third Comfort,
Star'd most unluckily, is from my Breaft
(The innocent Milk in its most innocent Mouth)
Hal'd out to Murder; my felf on every Post
Proclaim'd a Strumpet; with immodeft Hatred
The Child-bed Privilege deny'd which 'longs
To Women of all Fashion: Laftly, hurried
Here, to this place, i'th' open Air, before
I have got strength of Limbs. Now, my Liege,
Tell me what Bleffings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed:
But yet hear this; miftake me not; no Life,
I prize it not a Straw, but for mine Honour,
Which I would free: If I fhall be condemn'd
Upon Surmifes, 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 :
Apollo be my Judge.
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 Trial; that he did but fee
The flatness of my Mifery; yet with Eyes
Of Pity, not Revenge.
Officer. You here fhall fwear upon the Sword of Justice, 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 have not dar'd to break the holy Seal,
Nor read the Secrets in't.
Cleo. Dion. All this we fwear.
Leo. Break up the Seals and read.
Officer. Hermione is Chaft, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true Subject, Leontes a jealous Tyrant, his innocent Bab truly begotten, and the King fhall live without an Heir, if that which is loft be not found.
Lords. Now bleffed be the great Apollo.
Leo. Haft thou read the Truth?
Offic. Ay, my Lord, even fo as it is here fet down.
Leo. There is no Truth at all i'th' Oracle ;
The Seffions fhall proceed; this is meer Falfhood.
Ser. My Lord the King; the King.
Leo. What is the Bufinefs?
Ser. O Sir, I fhall be hated to Report it,
The Prince your Son, with meer conceit and fear
Of the Queen's speed, is gone.
Leo. How, gone?
Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heav'ns themselves
Do ftrike at my Injustice. How now there? [Her. faints. Pan. This News is mortal to the Queen: Look down And fee what Death is doing.
Her Heart is but o'er-charg'd; fhe will recover.
[Exeunt Paulina and Ladies with Hermione.
I have too much believ'd mine own Sufpicion;
'Beseech you tenderly apply to her
Some Remedies for Life. Apollo, pardon
My great Prophanefs 'gainst thine Oracle.
I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,
New woo my Queen, recal 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
Camillo for the Minifter, to poifon
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 (moft Human,
And fill'd with Honour) to my kingly Guest
Unclafp'd my Practice, quit his Fortunes here,
Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard
Of all Uncertainties, himself commended,
No richer than his Honour: How he glifters
Through my dark Ruft! And how his Piety
Does my Deeds make the blacker!
Pau. Woe the while :
O cut my Lace, left my Heart, cracking it,
Break too.
Lord. What Fit is this, good Lady?
Pan. What ftudied Torments, Tyrant, haft for me? What Wheels? Racks? Fires? What Flaying? Boiling? Burning,
In Leads or Oils? What old or new Torture
Muft I receive? whofe very word deferves
To taft of thy moft worst. Thy Tyranny,
|