SCENE II. The same. A Court of Justice.

LEONTES, Lords, and Officers, appear properly seated.

Leon. 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 beloved.-Let us be cleared
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.

Offi. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen Appear in person here in court.-Silence!

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

Leon. Read the indictment.

Offi. 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 and king, thy royal husband; the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.

Her. 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 received. 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 devised,
And played 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 honor, 'fore

Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for honor, '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 strained, to appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honor; or, in act, or will,
That way inclining; hardened be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
Cry, Fie upon my grave!

Leon.
I ne'er heard yet,
That any of these bolder vices wanted
Less impudence to gainsay what they did,
Than to perform it first.

Her.

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

That's true enough;

More than mistress of,

Leon. You will not own it.

Her.

Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,

(With whom I am accused,) I do confess
I loved him, as in honor he required;
With such a kind of love, as might become
A lady like me; with a love, even such,
So, and no other, as yourself commanded;

Which not to have done, I think, had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude

To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke,
Even since it could speak, from an infant freely,
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,

I know not how it tastes; though it be dished
For me to try how. All I know of it,

Is, that Camillo was an honest man;

And why he left your court, the gods themselves,
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know What you have underta'en to do in his absence. Her. Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not.
My life stands in the level of your dreams,
Which I'll lay down.

Leon.

Your actions are my dreams;

You had a bastard by Polixenes,
And I but dreamed it.

As you were past all shame,

(Those of your fact are so,) so past all truth;
Which to deny, concerns more than avails; for as
Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
No father owning it, (which is, indeed,
More criminal in thee, than it,) so thou

Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage,
Look for no less than death.

Her.
Sir, spare your threats;
The bug, which you would fright me with, I seek.
To me can life be no commodity.

The crown and comfort of my life, your favor,
I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,

But know not how it went. My second joy,
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
I am barred, like one infectious. My third comfort,
Starred most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murder; myself on every post
Proclaimed a strumpet; with immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
To women of all fashion.- Lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i' the open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die? Therefore, proceed.
But yet hear this; mistake me not.No! life,
I prize it not a straw; but for mine honor,
(Which I would free,) if I shall be condemned
Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else,
But what your jealousies awake; I tell you,
'Tis rigor, and not law. Your honors all,
I do refer me to the oracle;

Apollo be my judge.

1 Lord.
This your request,
Is altogether just: therefore, bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his oracle.

[Exeunt certain Officers

Her. The emperor of Russia was my father.
O that he were alive, and here, beholding
His daughter's trial! that he did but see
The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes
Of pity, not revenge!

Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DION.

Offi. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have

Been both at Delphos; and from thence have brought
This sealed-up oracle, by the hand delivered
Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then,
You have not dared to break the holy seal,
Nor read the secrets in't.

Cleo. Dion.

All this we swear.

Leon. Break up the seals, and read.

Offi. [Reads.] Hermione is chaste, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that, which is lost, be not found.

Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo!
Her.

Leon. Hast thou read truth?

Praised!

Ay, my lord; even so

Leon. There is no truth at all i' the oracle.

The sessions shall proceed; this is mere falsehood.

Enter a Servant, hastily.

What is the business?

Serv. My lord the king, the king!
Leon.
Serv. O, sir, I shall be hated to report it;
The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear

Of the queen's speed, is gone.

Leon.

Serv.

Leon. Apollo's angry; and the Heavens themselves

Do strike at my injustice.

How! gone?

Is dead.

[HERMIONE faints.

How now there?

Take her hence;

Paul. This news is mortal to the queen.-Look down, And see what death is doing.

Leon.

Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover.-
I have too much believed mine own suspicion.—
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life.-Apollo, pardon

[Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERM. My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle!I'll reconcile me to Polixenes;

New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo;
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy;

For, being transported by my jealousies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister, to poison

My friend Polixenes; which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied.

My swift command, though I with death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,

Not doing it, and being done: he, most humane,
And filled with honor, to my kingly guest
Unclasped my practice; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended,

No richer than his honor.-How he glisters
Thorough my rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!

Paul.

Re-enter PAULINA.

Woe the while!

O cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it,
Break too!

1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady?

Paul.. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boiling In leads or oils? What old, or newer torture Must I receive; whose every word deserves To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny Together working with thy jealousies,— Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle, For girls of nine! O, think what they have done, And then run mad, indeed; stark mad! for all Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, And damnable ungrateful: nor was't much, Thou wouldst have poisoned good Camillo's honor, To have him kill a king; poor trespasses, More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter, To be or none, or little; though a devil Would have shed water out of fire, ere done't: Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death Of the young prince; whose honorable thoughts (Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart That could conceive a gross and foolish sire Blemished his gracious dam; this is not, no, Laid to thy answer. But the last, O lords,