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Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo!

Leon. Hast thou read truth?

Ay, my lord; even so
As it is here set down.

Leon. There is no truth at all i'the oracle: The sessions shall proceed; this is mere falsehood.

Enter a Servant, hastily.
Ser. My lord the king, the king!

What is the business?
Ser. O sir, I shall be hated to report it:
The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
Of the queen's speed 3, is gone.

How! gone?

Is dead. Leon. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice. (Hermione faints.] How

now there? Paul. This news is mortal to the queen:-Look

And see what death is doing.

Take her hence:
Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover.
I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion :-
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life.- Apollo, pardon

[Ereunt Paulina and Ladies, with Hermione. My great profaneness '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 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 certain 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 32 !

Re-enter PAULINA.

Woe the while! 0, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it, Break too!

i Lord. What fit is this, good lady?

Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boiling, 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, 'twas nothing;
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,
And damnable ungrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would'st 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 don't 33 :
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,-0, lords,
When I have said,


queen, The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and vengeance

for't 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


queen, the


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.

Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deservid
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.

I am sorry for’t 34; 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 Let me be punish'd, that have minded you Of what you should forget. Now, my good 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:

grave sball be for both; upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto
Our shame perpetual: Once a day I'll visit
The chapel where they lie; and tears, shed there,
Shall be my recreation: So long as
Nature will bear up with this exercise,
So long I daily vow to use it. Come,
And lead me to these sorrows.



Bohemia. A desert Country near the sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art perfect then 35, our ship hath touch'd

upon The deserts of Bohemia? Mar.

Ay, my Lord; and fear 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 in the land; 'tis like to be loud weather;

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