THE WINTER'S TALE. Sidney Lee

MAMILLIUS

       Dwelt by a churchyard:—I will tell it softly;

       Yond crickets shall not hear it.

       HERMIONE

       Come on then,

       And give’t me in mine ear.

       [Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and Guards.]

       LEONTES

       Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him?

       FIRST LORD

       Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never

       Saw I men scour so on their way: I ey’d them

       Even to their ships.

       LEONTES

       How bles’d am I

       In my just censure, in my true opinion!—

       Alack, for lesser knowledge!—How accurs’d

       In being so blest!—There may be in the cup

       A spider steep’d, and one may drink, depart,

       And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge

       Is not infected; but if one present

       The abhorr’d ingredient to his eye, make known

       How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,

       With violent hefts;—I have drunk, and seen the spider.

       Camillo was his help in this, his pander:—

       There is a plot against my life, my crown;

       All’s true that is mistrusted:—that false villain

       Whom I employ’d, was pre-employ’d by him:

       He has discover’d my design, and I

       Remain a pinch’d thing; yea, a very trick

       For them to play at will.—How came the posterns

       So easily open?

       FIRST LORD

       By his great authority;

       Which often hath no less prevail’d than so,

       On your command.

       LEONTES

       I know’t too well.—

       Give me the boy:—I am glad you did not nurse him:

       Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you

       Have too much blood in him.

       HERMIONE

       What is this? sport?

       LEONTES

       Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her;

       Away with him!—and let her sport herself

       With that she’s big with;—for ‘tis Polixenes

       Has made thee swell thus.

       [Exit MAMILLIUS, with some of the Guards.]

       HERMIONE

       But I’d say he had not,

       And I’ll be sworn you would believe my saying,

       Howe’er you learn the nayward.

       LEONTES

       You, my lords,

       Look on her, mark her well; be but about

       To say, ‘she is a goodly lady’ and

       The justice of your hearts will thereto add,

       ”Tis pity she’s not honest, honourable’:

       Praise her but for this her without-door form,—

       Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,—and straight

       The shrug, the hum or ha,—these petty brands

       That calumny doth use:—O, I am out,

       That mercy does; for calumny will sear

       Virtue itself:—these shrugs, these hum’s, and ha’s,

       When you have said ‘she’s goodly,’ come between,

       Ere you can say ‘she’s honest’: but be it known,

       From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,

       She’s an adultress!

       HERMIONE

       Should a villain say so,

       The most replenish’d villain in the world,

       He were as much more villain: you, my lord,

       Do but mistake.

       LEONTES

       You have mistook, my lady,

       Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing,

       Which I’ll not call a creature of thy place,

       Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,

       Should a like language use to all degrees,

       And mannerly distinguishment leave out

       Betwixt the prince and beggar!—I have said,

       She’s an adultress; I have said with whom:

       More, she’s a traitor; and Camillo is

       A federary with her; and one that knows

       What she should shame to know herself

       But with her most vile principal, that she’s

       A bed-swerver, even as bad as those

       That vulgars give boldest titles; ay, and privy

       To this their late escape.

       HERMIONE

       No, by my life,

       Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,

       When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that

       You thus have publish’d me! Gentle my lord,

       You scarce can right me throughly then, to say

       You did mistake.

       LEONTES

       No; if I mistake

       In those foundations which I build upon,

       The centre is not big enough to bear

       A schoolboy’s top.—Away with her to prison!

       He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty

       But that he speaks.

       HERMIONE

       There’s some ill planet reigns:

       I must be patient till the heavens look

       With an aspéct more favourable.—Good my lords,

       I am not prone to weeping, as our sex

       Commonly are; the want of which vain dew

       Perchance shall dry your pities; but I have

       That honourable grief lodg’d here, which burns

       Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,

       With thoughts so qualified as your charities

       Shall best instruct you, measure me;—and so

       The king’s will be perform’d!

       LEONTES

       [To the GUARD.] Shall I be heard?

       HERMIONE

       Who is’t that goes with me?—Beseech your highness

       My women may be with me; for, you see,

       My plight requires it.—Do not weep, good fools;

       There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress