(Unless he take the course that you have done, Commit me, for committing honor,) trust it, He shall not rule me. Ant. Paul. Good my liege, I come, And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess Leon. Good queen! Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen: I say, good queen; And would by combat make her good, so were I Leon. Force her hence. Paul. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes, First hand me: on my own accord, I'll off; But, first, I'll do my errand.-The good queen For she is good-hath brought you forth a daughter; Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. Leon. [Laying down the Child. Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door! I am as ignorant in that, as you In so entitling me; and no less honest Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant, As this world goes, to pass for honest. Leon. Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard.Thou dotard [To ANTIGONUS.] thou art woman-tired, un roosted By thy dame Partlet here.-Take up the bastard; Paul. Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Forever Tak'st up the princess, by that forced baseness Which he has put upon't! Leon. He dreads his wife. Paul. So I would you did; then, 'twere past all doubt, You'd call your children yours. Leon. A nest of traitors! Nor I; nor any, Ant. I am none, by this good light. The sacred honor of himself, his queen's, His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, Leon. A callat, Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her husband, And now baits me!-This brat is none of mine; It is the issue of Prolixenes. Hence with it; and, together with the dam, Commit them to the fire. Paul. It is yours; And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley, The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colors Leon. And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hanged, 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 burned. It is a heretic that makes the fire, I care not. Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; (Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hinged fancy) something savors Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Leon. 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, 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 consumed with fire; Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight. (And by good testimony,) or I'll seize thy life, Ant. 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 served 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; It shall not neither.-You, sir, come you hither; You, that have been so tenderly officious VOL. II.-7 I So sure as this beard's gray,- Ant. what will you adventure Any thing, my lord, That my ability may undergo, And nobleness impose. At least, thus much; Leon. It shall be possible. Swear by this sword, Ant. I will, my lord. Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued wife; Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death In more than this deed doth require! and blessing, Leon. Another's issue. 1 Attend. From those you [Exit, with the Child. No, I'll not rear Please your highness, posts, sent to the oracle, are come An hour since. Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed, 1 Lord. Hath been beyond account. Leon. So please you, sir, their speed Twenty-three days will have The truth of this appear. They have been absent. 'Tis good speed; foretells, The great Apollo suddenly Prepare you, lords: Summon a session, that we may arraign. 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; I shall report— Dion. How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly It was i' the offering! Cleo. But of all, the burst And ear-deafening voice o' the oracle, Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense, Dion. If the event o' the journey Prove as successful to the queen,-O, be't so!As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy, The time is worth the use on't. Cleo. Great Apollo, Turn all to the best! These proclamations, I little like. Dion. The violent carriage of it Will clear, or end, the business. When the oracle Even then will rush to knowledge.- -Go, fresh horses! And gracious be the issue! [Exeunt. |