Shakespeare's First Folio Part 246

Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.

You had a b.a.s.t.a.r.d by Polixenes, And I but dream'd it: As you were past all shame, (Those of your Fact are so) so past all truth; Which to deny, concernes more then auailes: for as Thy Brat hath been cast out, like to it selfe, No Father owning it (which is indeed More criminall in thee, then it) so thou Shalt feele our Iustice; in whose easiest pa.s.sage, Looke for no lesse then death

Her. Sir, spare your Threats: The Bugge which you would fright me with, I seeke: To me can Life be no commoditie; The crowne and comfort of my Life (your Fauor) I doe giue lost, for I doe feele it gone, But know not how it went. My second Ioy, And first Fruits of my body, from his presence I am bar'd, like one infectious. My third comfort (Star'd most vnluckily) is from my breast (The innocent milke in it most innocent mouth) Hal'd out to murther. My selfe on euery Post Proclaym'd a Strumpet: With immodest hatred The Child-bed priuiledge deny'd, which longs To Women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried Here, to this place, i'th' open ayre, before I haue got strength of limit. Now (my Liege) Tell me what blessings I haue here aliue, That I should feare to die? Therefore proceed: But yet heare this: mistake me not: no Life, (I prize it not a straw) but for mine Honor, Which I would free: if I shall be condemn'd Vpon surmizes (all proofes sleeping else, But what your Iealousies awake) I tell you 'Tis Rigor, and not Law. Your Honors all, I doe referre me to the Oracle: Apollo be my Iudge

Lord. This your request Is altogether iust: therefore bring forth (And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle

Her. The Emperor of Russia was my Father.

Oh that he were aliue, and here beholding His Daughters Tryall: that he did but see The flatnesse of my miserie; yet with eyes Of Pitty, not Reuenge

Officer. You here shal sweare vpon this Sword of Iustice, That you (Cleomines and Dion) haue Been both at Delphos, and from thence haue brought This seal'd-vp Oracle, by the Hand deliuer'd Of great Apollo's Priest; and that since then, You haue not dar'd to breake the holy Seale, Nor read the Secrets in't

Cleo. Dio. All this we sweare

Leo. Breake vp the Seales, and read

Officer. Hermione is chast, Polixenes blamelesse, Camillo a true Subiect, Leontes a iealous Tyrant, his innocent Babe truly begotten, and the King shall liue without an Heire, if that which is lost, be not found

Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo

Her. Praysed

Leo. Hast thou read truth?

Offic. I (my Lord) euen so as it is here set downe

Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle: The Sessions shall proceed: this is meere falsehood

Ser. My Lord the King: the King?

Leo. What is the businesse?

Ser. O Sir, I shall be hated to report it.

The Prince your Sonne, with meere conceit, and feare Of the Queenes speed, is gone

Leo. How? gone?

Ser. Is dead

Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heauens themselues Doe strike at my Iniustice. How now there?

Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene: Look downe And see what Death is doing

Leo. Take her hence: Her heart is but o're-charg'd: she will recouer.

I haue too much beleeu'd mine owne suspition: 'Beseech you tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life. Apollo pardon My great prophanenesse 'gainst thine Oracle.

Ile reconcile me to Polixenes, New woe my Queene, recall the good Camillo (Whom I proclaime a man of Truth, of Mercy:) For being transported by my Iealousies To b.l.o.o.d.y thoughts, and to reuenge, I chose Camillo for the minister, to poyson 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 Honor) to my Kingly Guest Vnclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here (Which you knew great) and to the hazard Of all Incertainties, himselfe commended, No richer then his Honor: How he glisters Through my Rust? and how his Pietie Do's my deeds make the blacker?

Paul. Woe the while: O cut my Lace, least my heart (cracking it) Breake too

Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?

Paul. What studied torments (Tyrant) hast for me?

What Wheeles? Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling?

In Leads, or Oyles? What old, or newer Torture Must I receiue? whose euery word deserues To taste of thy most worst. Thy Tyranny (Together working with thy Iealousies, Fancies too weake for Boyes, too greene and idle For Girles of Nine) O thinke what they haue done, And then run mad indeed: starke-mad: for all Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.

That thou betrayed'st Polixenes, 'twas nothing, (That did but shew thee, of a Foole, inconstant, And d.a.m.nable ingratefull:) Nor was't much.

Thou would'st haue poyson'd good Camillo's Honor, To haue him kill a King: poore Trespa.s.ses, More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon The casting forth to Crowes, thy Baby-daughter, To be or none, or little; though a Deuill Would haue shed water out of fire, ere don't; Nor is't directly layd to thee, the death Of the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts (Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart That could conceiue a grosse and foolish Sire Blemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no, Layd to thy answere: but the last: O Lords, When I haue said, cry woe: the Queene, the Queene, The sweet'st, deer'st creature's dead: & vengeance for't Not drop'd downe yet

Lord. The higher powres forbid

Pau. I say she's dead: Ile swear't. If word, nor oath Preuaile not, go and see: if you can bring Tincture, or l.u.s.tre in her lip, her eye Heate outwardly, or breath within, Ile serue you As I would do the G.o.ds. But, O thou Tyrant, Do not repent these things, for they are heauier Then all thy woes can stirre: therefore betake thee To nothing but dispaire. A thousand knees, Ten thousand yeares together, naked, fasting, Vpon a barren Mountaine, and still Winter In storme perpetuall, could not moue the G.o.ds To looke that way thou wer't

Leo. Go on, go on: Thou canst not speake too much, I haue deseru'd All tongues to talke their bittrest

Lord. Say no more; How ere the businesse goes, you haue made fault I'th boldnesse of your speech

Pau. I am sorry for't; All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent: Alas, I haue shew'd too much The rashnesse of a woman: he is toucht To th' n.o.ble heart. What's gone, and what's past helpe Should be past greefe: Do not receiue affliction At my pet.i.tion; I beseech you, rather Let me be punish'd, that haue minded you Of what you should forget. Now (good my Liege) Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue a foolish woman: The loue I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe) Ile speake of her no more, nor of your Children: Ile not remember you of my owne Lord, (Who is lost too:) take your patience to you, And Ile say nothing

Leo. Thou didst speake but well, When most the truth: which I receyue much better, Then to be pittied of thee. Prethee bring me To the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne, One graue shall be for both: Vpon them shall The causes of their death appeare (vnto Our shame perpetuall) once a day, Ile visit The Chappell where they lye, and teares shed there Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature Will beare vp with this exercise, so long I dayly vow to vse it. Come, and leade me To these sorrowes.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.

Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vpon The Desarts of Bohemia

Mar. I (my Lord) and feare We haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly, And threaten present bl.u.s.ters. In my conscience The heauens with that we haue in hand, are angry, And frowne vpon's

Ant. Their sacred wil's be done: go get a-boord, Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long before I call vpon thee

Mar. Make your best haste, and go not Too-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather, Besides this place is famous for the Creatures Of prey, that keepe vpon't

Antig. Go thou away, Ile follow instantly

Mar. I am glad at heart To be so ridde o'th businesse.

Exit

Ant. Come, poore babe; I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o'th' dead May walke againe: if such thing be, thy Mother Appear'd to me last night: for ne're was dreame So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another, I neuer saw a vessell of like sorrow So fill'd, and so becomming: in pure white Robes Like very sanct.i.ty she did approach My Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me, And (gasping to begin some speech) her eyes Became two spouts; the furie spent, anon Did this breake from her. Good Antigonus, Since Fate (against thy better disposition) Hath made thy person for the Thrower-out Of my poore babe, according to thine oath, Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babe Is counted lost for euer, Perdita I prethee call't: For this vngentle businesse Put on thee, by my Lord, thou ne're shalt see Thy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shriekes She melted into Ayre. Affrighted much, I did in time collect my selfe, and thought This was so, and no slumber: Dreames, are toyes, Yet for this once, yea superst.i.tiously, I will be squar'd by this. I do beleeue Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that Apollo would (this being indeede the issue Of King Polixenes) it should heere be laide (Either for life, or death) vpon the earth Of it's right Father. Blossome, speed thee well, There lye, and there thy charracter: there these, Which may if Fortune please, both breed thee (pretty) And still rest thine. The storme beginnes, poore wretch, That for thy mothers fault, art thus expos'd To losse, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot, But my heart bleedes: and most accurst am I To be by oath enioyn'd to this. Farewell, The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like to haue A lullabie too rough: I neuer saw The heauens so dim, by day. A sauage clamor?

Well may I get a-boord: This is the Chace, I am gone for euer.

Exit pursued by a Beare.

Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten and three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wenches with childe, wronging the Auncientry, stealing, fighting, hearke you now: would any but these boyldebraines of nineteene, and two and twenty hunt this weather?

They haue scarr'd away two of my best Sheepe, which I feare the Wolfe will sooner finde then the Maister; if any where I haue them, 'tis by the sea-side, brouzing of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A boy, or a Childe I wonder? (A pretty one, a verie prettie one) sure some Scape; Though I am not bookish, yet I can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this has beene some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some behinde-doore worke: they were warmer that got this, then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet Ile tarry till my sonne come: he hallow'd but euen now.

Whoa-ho-hoa.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. Hilloa, loa

Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing to talke on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither: what ayl'st thou, man?

Clo. I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land: but I am not to say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, betwixt the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins point

Shep. Why boy, how is it?

Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes vp the sh.o.r.e, but that's not to the point: Oh, the most pitteous cry of the poore soules, sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Shippe boaring the Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a Corke into a hogshead.