Her. That's true enough;

Tho' 'tis a saying, Sir, not due to me.

Leo. You will not own it.

Her. More than mistress 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 such a kind of love, as might become
A lady like me; with a love, even such,
So and no other, as your self commanded:
Which not to have done, I think, had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude

To you, and towards your friend; whose love had

spoke,

Even fince it could speak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now for Conspiracy,
I know not how it tastes, tho' it be dish'd
For me to try how; all I know of it,
Is, that Camillo was an honest 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 absence.
Her. Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not;
My life stands in the level of your Dreams,
Which I'll lay down.

Leo. Your Actions are my Dreams.

You had a Bastard 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, concerns more than avails: for as
Thy brat hath been cast out, like to it self,
No father owning it, (which is, indeed,
More criminal in thee than it) so thou

Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage
Look for no less than death.

Her. Sir, spare your threats;

The bug, which you would fright me with, I seek :

To

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 second joy,
The first-fruits of my body, from his prefence
I'm barr'd like one infectious. My third comfort,
(Starr'd most unluckily,) is from my breast
(The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth)
Hal'd out to murder; my self on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet, with immodeft hatred
The child-bed privilege deny'd, which 'longs
To women of all fashion: lastly, hurried (14)
Here to this place, i'th' open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what Blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die? therefore proceed:
But yet hear this; mistake me not; no life, -
I prize it not a straw; but for mine honour,
Which I would free, if I shall be condemn'd
Upon furmises, (all proofs sleeping else,
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.

Enter Dion and Cleomines.

Lord. This your request

Is altogether just; therefore bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his Oracle.

Her. The Emperor of Russia was my father,

Oh, that he were alive, and here beholding
His daughter's tryal; that he did but fee

>

The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes 10 авыли
Of Pity, not Revenge!

Offi. You here shall swear 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'dod
Of great Apollo's Prieft; and that fince thenHATU)
You have not dar'd to break the holy Seal,int biến
Nor read the secrets in't.l

Cleo. Dion. All this we wear.

Leo. Break up the feals, and read.

Offi. Hermione is chafte, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true Subject, Leontes a jealous Tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and the King shall live without an heir, if That, which is lost, be not found.

Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo!

Her. Praised!

Leo. Hast thou read truth?

Offi. Ay, my lord, even fo as it is here set down.
Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle;

The Session shall proceed; this is meer falfhood.

Enter Servant.

Serv. My lord the King, the King,

Leo. What is the business ?

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

The Prince your son, with meer conceit and fear

Of the Queen's Speed, is gone.

Leo. How gone? lom

Ser. Is dead.

Leo. Apollo's angry, and the heav'ns themselves

Do strike at my injustice. - How now, there?

[Her. faints.

Pau. This news is mortal to the Queen: look down,

And fee what death is doing.

Leo. Take her hence;

Her heart is but o'er-charg'd; she will recover.

[Exeunt Paulina and ladies with Hermione.

I have too much believ'd mine own fufpicion:

'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her

Some

Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon
My great Prophaneness '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 transported by my jealoufies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the Minister, 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 (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 glifters
Through my dark Rust! and how his Piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!

Enter Paulina.

Pau. Woe the while!

O, cut my lace, left my heart, cracking it,
Break too.-

Lord. What fit is this, good lady?

Pau. What studied torments, Tyrant, hast for me? What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling?

burning

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 Jealoufies,
(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 spices of it.

That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; (15)

(15) That thou betrayd'st Polixenes, 'twas Nothing; That did but shew thee, of a Fool, inconstant,

That

And

That did but shew thee of a Soul inconstant, Do
And damnable ingrateful: 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 cafting forth to crows thy baby-daughter,
To be, or none, or little; tho' a devil
Would have shed water out of fire, ere don't:
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, O lords,
When I have said, cry, woe! the Queen, the Queen,-
The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and vengeance

for't

Not dropt down yet.

Lord. The higher Powers forbid!

Pau. I say, fhe's dead: I'll swear't: if word, nor oath, Prevail not, go and fee: if you can bring Tincture or luftre in her lip, her eye, Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you As I would do the Gods. But, O thou tyrant! (16) Do not repent these things; for they are heavier