These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, 1. Lord. We can; my royal Liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. Leon. You are liars all. 1. Lord. "Beseech your Highness, give us better credit: We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech So to esteem, of us: And on our knees we beg, (As recompence of our dear services, Past, and to come,) that you do change this pur pose; 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: Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel And call me father? Better burn it now, But, be it; let it live: You, Sir, come you hither; You, that have been so tenderly officious To save this brat's life? Ant. Any thing, my Lord, That my ability may undergo, what will you ad venture And nobleness impose: at least, thus much; Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword, Thou wilt perform my bidding. Aut. 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-tongued wife; This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous In more than this deed does require! and blessing, Against this cruelty, fight on thy side, Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! Leon. No, I'll not rear Another's issue. [Exit, with the child. 1. Attend. Please your Highness, posts, From those you sent to the oracle, are come An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to the court. 1. Lord. So please you, Sir, their spced Hath been beyond account. Leon. Twenty-three days They have been absent: "Tis good speed; foretels, The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you, Lords: [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. The same. A Street in some town. Enter CLEOMENES and DION. Cleo. The climate's delicate; the air most sweet; Fertile the isle; temple much surpassing The common praise it bears. Dion. I shall report, For most it caught me, the celestial habits, (Methinks, I so should term them,) and the reverence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious', solemn, and unearthly It was i'the offering! Cleo. But, of all, the burst And the ear-deafening voice o'the oracle, Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpriz'd my sense, That I was nothing. Dion. If the event o'the journey Prove as successful to the Queen, O, be't so! As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy, Cleo. Great Apollo, Turn all to the best! These proclamations, So So forcing faults upon Hermione, I little like. Dion. The violent carriage of it Will clear, or end, the business: When the oracle; And gracious be the issue! horses; SCENE I I. The same. A Court of Justice. - fresh [Exeunt. LEONTES, Lords, and Officers, appear properly seated. Leon. This sessions (to our great grief, we pro nounce,) Even pushes 'gainst our heart: The party tried, -- Let us be clear'd Of being tyrannous, since we so openly Proceed in justice; which shall have due course, Produce the prisoner. Offi. It is his Highness' pleasure, that the Queen Appear in person here in court. Silence! HERMIONE is brought in, guarded; Paulina and Ladies, attending. Leon. Read the indictment. Offi. Hermione, Queen to the worthy Leontes, King of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign VOL. VI. 9 lord the King, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night. Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that Which contradicts my accusation; and The testimony on my part, no other But what comes from myself; it shall scarce boot me Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, I doubt not then, but innocence shall make Tremble at patience. You, my Lord, best know, A moiety of the throne, a great King's daughter, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, Sir, before Polixenes With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain'd, to appear thus: if one jot beyond |