THE WINTER'S TALE. Sidney Lee

days

       They have been absent: ‘tis good speed; foretells

       The great Apollo suddenly will have

       The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords;

       Summon a session, that we may arraign

       Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath

       Been publicly accus’d, so shall she have

       A just and open trial. While she lives,

       My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me;

       And think upon my bidding.

       [Exeunt.]

ACT III.

       Table of Contents

      SCENE I. Sicilia. A Street in some Town.

       [Enter CLEOMENES and DION.]

       CLEOMENES

       The climate’s delicate; the air most sweet;

       Fertile the isle; the 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!

       CLEOMENES

       But of all, the burst

       And the ear-deaf’ning voice o’ the oracle,

       Kin to Jove’s thunder, so surprised 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,

       The time is worth the use on’t.

       CLEOMENES

       Great Apollo

       Turn all to th’ best! These proclamations,

       So forcing faults upon Hermione,

       I little like.

       DION

       The violent carriage of it

       Will clear or end the business: when the oracle,—

       Thus by Apollo’s great divine seal’d up,—

       Shall the contents discover, something rare

       Even then will rush to knowledge.—Go,—fresh horses;—

       And gracious be the issue!

       [Exeunt.]

      SCENE II. The same. A Court of Justice.

       [Enter LEONTES, Lords, and Officers appear, properly seated.]

       LEONTES

       This sessions,—to our great grief we pronounce,—

       Even pushes ‘gainst our heart;—the party tried,

       The daughter of a king, our wife; and one

       Of us too much belov’d. Let us be clear’d

       Of being tyrannous, since we so openly

       Proceed in justice; which shall have due course,

       Even to the guilt or the purgation.—

       Produce the prisoner.

       OFFICER

       It is his highness’ pleasure that the queen

       Appear in person here in court.—

       CRIER.

       Silence!

       [HERMIONE, is brought in guarded; PAULINA, and Ladies attending.]

       LEONTES

       Read the indictment.

       OFFICER

       [Reads.] ‘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 lord the king, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.’

       HERMIONE

       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

       To say ‘Not guilty’: mine integrity,

       Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,

       Be so receiv’d. But thus,—if powers divine

       Behold our human actions,—as they do,—

       I doubt not, then, but innocence shall make

       False accusation blush, and tyranny

       Tremble at patience.—You, my lord, best know,—

       Who least will seem to do so,—my past life

       Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,

       As I am now unhappy: which is more

       Than history can pattern, though devis’d

       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 standing

       To prate and talk for life and honour ‘fore

       Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it

       As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour,

       ‘Tis a derivative from me to mine,

       And only that I stand for. I appeal

       To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes

       Came to your court, how I was in your grace,

       How merited to be so; since he came,

       With what encounter so uncurrent I

       Have strain’d t’ appear thus: if one jot beyond

       The bound of honour, or in act or will

       That way inclining, harden’d be the hearts

       Of all that hear me, and my near’st of kin

       Cry fie upon my grave!

       LEONTES

       I ne’er heard yet

       That any of these bolder vices wanted

       Less impudence to gainsay what they did

       Than to perform it first.

       HERMIONE

       That’s true enough;

       Though ‘tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

       LEONTES

       You will not own it.