If we would have you.

  SECOND LADY

  She is spread of late

  Into a goodly bulk, good time encounter her.

  HERMIONE

  What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come sir, now

  I am for you again. Pray you sit by us,

  And tell’s a tale.

  MAMILLIUS Merry or sad shall’t be?

  HERMIONE As merry as you will.

  MAMILLIUS

  A sad tale’s best for winter. I have one

  Of sprites and goblins.

  HERMIONE

  Let’s have that, good sir. Come on, sit down, come on, and do your best

  To fright me with your sprites. You’re powerful at it.

  MAMILLIUS

  There was a man—

  HERMIONE

  Nay, come sit down, then on.

  MAMILLIUS (sitting)

  Dwelt by a churchyard.—I will tell it softly,

  Yon crickets shall not hear it.

  HERMIONE

  Come on then, and give’t me in mine ear.

  Enter apart Leontes, Antigonus, and Lords

  LEONTES

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

  A LORD

  Behind the tuft of pines I met them. Never

  Saw I men scour so on their way. I eyed them

  Even to their ships.

  LEONTES

  How blest am I

  In my just censure, in my true opinion!

  Alack, for lesser knowledge—how accursed

  In being so blest! There may be in the cup

  A spider steeped, and one may drink, depart,

  And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge

  Is not infected; but if one present

  Th’abhorred 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 employed was pre-employed by him.

  He has discovered my design, and I

  Remain a pinched thing, yea, a very trick

  For them to play at will. How came the posterns

  So easily open?

  A LORD

  By his great authority,

  Which often hath no less prevailed than so

  On your command.

  LEONTES I know’t too well.

  (To Hermione) 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 (to a Lord)

  Bear the boy hence. He shall not come about her.

  Away with him, and let her sport herself

  With that she’s big with, (to Hermione) for ’tis

  Polixenes

  Has made thee swell thus. Exit one with Mamillius

  HERMIONE

  But I’d say he had not, And I’ll be sworn you would believe my saying,

  Howe’er you lean to th’ 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’t known

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

  She’s an adultress.

  HERMIONE

  Should a villain say so,

  The most replenished 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 bold’st 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 published 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 aspect more favourable. Good my lords,

  I am not prone to weeping, as our sex no

  Commonly are; the want of which vain dew

  Perchance shall dry your pities. But I have

  That honourable grief lodged 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 performed.

  LEONTES

  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

  Has deserved prison, then abound in tears

  As I come out. This action I now go on

  Is for my better grace.—Adieu, my lord.

  I never wished to see you sorry; now

  I trust I shall. My women, come, you have leave.

  LEONTES Go, do our bidding. Hence!

  Exit Hermione, guarded, with Ladies

  A LORD

  Beseech your highness, call the Queen again.

  ANTIGONUS (to Leontes)

  Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice

  Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer—

  Yourself, your queen, your son.

  A LORD (to Leontes)

  For her, my lord,

  I dare my life lay down, and will do‘t, sir,

  Please you t’accept it, that the Queen is spotless

  I’th’ eyes of heaven and to you—I mean

  In this which you accuse her.

  ANTIGONUS (to Leontes)

  If it prove

  She’s otherwise, I’ll keep my stables where

  I lodge my wife, I’ll go in couples with her;

  Than when I feel and see her, no farther trust her.

  For every inch of woman in the world,

  Ay, every dram of woman’s flesh is false

  If she be.

  LEONTES

  Hold your peaces.

  A LORD

  Good my lord—

  ANTIGONUS (to Leontes)

  It is for you we speak, not for ourselves.

  You are abused, and by some putter-on

  That will be damned for’t. Would I knew the villain—

  I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flawed—

  I have three daughters: the eldest is eleven;

  The second and the third nine and some five;

  If this prove true, they’ll pay for’t. By mine honour,

  I’ll geld ’em all. Fourteen they shall not see,

  To bring false generations. They are co-heirs,

  And I had rather glib myself than they

  Should not produce fair issue.

  LEONTES

  Cease, no more!

  You smell this business with a sense as cold

  As is a dead man’s nose. But I do see’t and feel’t

  As you feel doing thus; and see withal

  The instruments that feel.

  ANTIGONUS

  If it be so,

  We need no grave to bury honesty;

  There’s not a grain of it the face to sweeten

  Of the whole dungy earth.

  LEONTES

  What? Lack I credit?

  A LORD

  I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,

  Upon this ground; and more it would content me

  To have her honour true than your suspicion,

  Be blamed for’t how you might.

  LEONTES Why, what need we

  Commune with you of this, but rather follow

  Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative

  Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness

  Imparts this; which, if you—or stupefied

  Or seeming so in skill—cannot or will not

  Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves

  We need no more of your advice. The matter,

  The loss, the gain, the ord‘ring on’t, is all

  Properly ours.

  ANTIGONUS

  And I wish, my liege,

  You had only in your silent judgement tried it

  Without more overture.

  LEONTES

  How could that be?

  Either thou art most ignorant by age

  Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo’s flight

  Added to their familiarity,

  Which was as gross as ever touched conjecture

  That lacked sight only, naught for approbation

  But only seeing, all other circumstances

  Made up to th’ deed—doth push on this proceeding.

  Yet for a greater confirmation—

  For in an act of this importance ’twere

  Most piteous to be wild—I have dispatched in post

  To sacred Delphos, to Apollo’s temple,

  Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know

  Of stuffed sufficiency. Now from the oracle

  They will bring all, whose spiritual counsel had

  Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?

  A LORD Well done, my lord.

  LEONTES

  Though I am satisfied, and need no more

  Than what I know, yet shall the oracle

  Give rest to th’ minds of others such as he,

  Whose ignorant credulity will not

  Come up to th’ truth. So have we thought it good

  From our free person she should be confined,

  Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence

  Be left her to perform. Come, follow us.

  We are to speak in public; for this business

  Will raise us all.

  ANTIGONUS (aside) To laughter, as I take it,

  If the good truth were known. Exeunt

  2.2 Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, and attendants

  PAULINA

  The keeper of the prison, call to him.

  Let him have knowledge who I am.

  Exit Gentleman

  Good lady,

  No court in Europe is too good for thee.

  What dost thou then in prison?

  Enter Jailer and Gentleman

  Now, good sir,

  You know me, do you not?

  JAILER

  For a worthy lady,

  And one who much I honour.

  PAULINA Pray you then,

  Conduct me to the Queen.

  JAILER

  I may not, madam. To the contrary

  I have express commandment.

  PAULINA

  Here’s ado,

  To lock up honesty and honour from

  Th’access of gentle visitors. Is’t lawful, pray you,

  To see her women? Any of them? Emilia?

  JAILER So please you, madam,

  To put apart these your attendants,

  Shall bring Emilia forth.

  PAULINA I pray now call her.—

  Withdraw yourselves.

  Exeunt Gentleman and attendants

  JAILER And, madam,

  I must be present at your conference.

  PAULINA Well, be’t so, prithee.

  Exit Jailer

  Here’s such ado, to make no stain a stain

  As passes colouring.

  Enter Jailer and Emilia

  Dear gentlewoman,

  How fares our gracious lady?

  EMILIA

  As well as one so great and so forlorn

  May hold together. On her frights and griefs,

  Which never tender lady hath borne greater,

  She is, something before her time, delivered.

  PAULINA

  A boy?

  EMILIA A daughter, and a goodly babe,

  Lusty, and like to live. The Queen receives

  Much comfort in’t; says, ‘My poor prisoner,

  I am innocent as you.’

  PAULINA

  I dare be sworn.

  These dangerous, unsafe lunes i‘th’ King, beshrew

  them!

  He must be told on’t, and he shall. The office

  Becomes a woman best. I’ll take’t upon me.

  If I prove honey-mouthed, let my tongue blister,

  And never to my red-looked anger be

  The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia,

  Commend my best obedience to the Queen.

  If she dares trust me with her little babe

  I’ll show’t the King, and undertake to be

  Her advocate to th’ loud‘st. We do not know

  How he may soften at the sight o’th’ child.

  The silence often of pure innocence

  Persuades when speaking fails.

  EMILIA

  Most worthy madam,

  Your honour and your goodness is so evident

  That your free undertaking cannot miss

  A thriving issue. There is no lady living

  So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship

  To visit the next room, I’ll presently

  Acquaint the Queen of your most noble offer,

  Who but today hammered of this design

  But durst not tempt a minister of honour

  Lest she should be denied.

  PAULINA

  Tell her, Emilia,

  I’ll use that tongue I have. If wit flow from’t

  As boldness from my bosom, let’t not be doubted

  I shall do good.

  EMILIA

  Now be you blest for it!

  I’ll to the Queen. Please you come something nearer.

  JAILER

  Madam, if’t please the Queen to send the babe

  I know not what I shall incur to pass it,

  Having no warrant.

  PAULINA You need not fear it, sir.

  This child was prisoner to the womb, and is

  By law and process of great nature thence

  Freed and enfranchised, not a party to

  The anger of the King, nor guilty of—

  If any be—the trespass of the Queen.

  JAILER I do believe it.

  PAULINA

  Do not you fear. Upon mine honour,

  I will stand twixt you and danger.

  Exeunt

  2.3 Enter Leontes

  LEONTES

  Nor night nor day, no rest! It is but weakness

  To bear the matter thus, mere weakness. If

  The cause were not in being—part o‘th’ cause,

  She, th’adultress; for the harlot King

  Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank

  And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she

  I can hook to me. Say that she were gone,

  Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest

  Might come to me again. Who’s there?

  Enter a Servant

  SERVANT

  My lord.

  LEONTES

  How does the boy?

  SERVANT

  He took good rest tonight.

  ’Tis hoped his sickness is discharged.

  LEONTES To see his nobleness!

  Conceiving the dishonour of his mother

  He straight declined, drooped, took it deeply,

  Fastened and fixed the shame on’t in himself;

  Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,

  And downright languished. Leave me solely. Go,

  See how he fares.

  Exit Servant

  Fie, fie, no thought of him.

  The very thought of my revenges that way

  Recoil upon me. In himself too mighty,

  And in his parties, his alliance. Let him be

  Until a time may serve. For present vengeance,

  Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes

  Laugh at me, make their pastime at my sorrow.

  They should not laugh if I could reach them, nor

  Shall she, within my power.

  Enter Paulina, carrying a babe, with Antigonus,

  Lords, and the Servant, trying to restrain her

  A LORD

  You must not enter.

  PAULINA

  Nay rather, good my lords, be second to me.

  Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,

  Than the Queen’s life?—a gracious, innocent soul,

  More free than he is jealous.

  ANTIGONUS

  That’s enough.

  SERVANT

  Madam, he hath not slept tonight, commanded

  None should come at him.

  PAULINA

  Not so hot, good sir.

  I come to bring him sleep. ’Tis such as you,

  That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh

  At each his needless heavings, such as you

  Nourish the cause of his awaking. I

  Do come with words as medicinal as true,

  Honest as either, to purge him of that humour