So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours No yellow" in't; lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's! Leon. 8 That wilt not stay her tongue. Ant.' A gross hag! Hang all the husbands, Once more, take her hence. That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject. Leon. Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. Leon. Paul. I'll have thee burn'd. It is an heretick, that makes the fire, I care not: Not she, which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; But this most cruel usage of your queen (Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,) something savours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. Leon. Out of the chamber with her. On your allegiance, Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her. Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send her A better guiding spirit!-What need these hands? You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, 7 The colour of jealousy. • Worthless fellow. Will never do him good, not one of you. So, so-Farewell; we are gone. [Exit. Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. My child? away with't!-even thou, that hast A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence, And see it instantly consum'd with fire; Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight: For thou sett'st on thy wife. Ant. I did not, sir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in't. 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 recompense of our dear services, Past, and to come,) that you do change this purpose; 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, Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live: It shall not neither.-You, sir, come you hither; [To ANTIGONUS. You, that have been so tenderly officious ture To save this brat's life? Ant. Any thing, my lord, That my ability may undergo, I'll And nobleness impose: at least, thus much; the little blood which I have left, To save the innocent: any thing possible. pawn adven Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword," Thou wilt perform my bidding. Ant. 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-tongu'd wife; 9 It was anciently a practice to swear by the cross at the hilt of a sword. 1 i. e. Commit it to some place as a stranger. Where chance may nurse, or end it: Take it up. In more than this deed doth require! and blessing, Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! 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 speed Twenty-three days Hath been beyond account. Leon. They have been absent: "Tis good speed; foretels, The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you lords; Our most disloyal lady: for, as she hath A just and open trial. While she lives, My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me ; [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; 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 re verence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly 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 !- Cleo. Great Apollo, Turn all to the 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, i. e. Our journey has recompensed us the time we spent in it. |