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