ACT III. SCENE I. Sicilia. On the road to the Capital  Enter CLEOMENES and DION    CLEOMENES. 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 reverence     Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!     How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly,     It was i' th' off'ring!   CLEOMENES. But of all, the burst     And the ear-deaf'ning voice o' th' oracle,     Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd my sense     That I was nothing.   DION. If th' event o' th' 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.   CLEOMENES. Great Apollo     Turn all to th' 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-     Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up-     Shall the contents discover, something rare     Even then will rush to knowledge. Go; fresh horses.     And gracious be the issue!                            Exeunt     SCENE II. Sicilia. A court of justice  Enter LEONTES, LORDS, and OFFICERS    LEONTES. 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 belov'd. Let us be clear'd     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.   OFFICER. It is his Highness' pleasure that the Queen     Appear in person here in court.           Enter HERMIONE, as to her trial, PAULINA, and LADIES      Silence!   LEONTES. Read the indictment.   OFFICER.  [Reads]  '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 the King, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by     circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the     faith and allegiance of true subject, didst counsel and aid them,     for their better safety, to fly away by night.'   HERMIONE. 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 receiv'd. But thus- if pow'rs 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 devis'd     And play'd 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 honour fore     Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it     As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for honour,     '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 strain'd t' appear thus; if one jot beyond     The bound of honour, or in act or will     That way inclining, hard'ned be the hearts     Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin     Cry fie upon my grave!   LEONTES. I ne'er heard yet     That any of these bolder vices wanted     Less impudence to gainsay what they did     Than to perform it first.   HERMIONE. That's true enough;     Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.   LEONTES. You will not own it.   HERMIONE. More than mistress of     Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not     At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,     With whom I am accus'd, I do confess     I lov'd him as in honour he requir'd;     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,     Ever since it could speak, from an infant, freely,     That it was yours. Now for conspiracy:     I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'd     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.   LEONTES. You knew of his departure, as you know     What you have underta'en to do in's absence.   HERMIONE. Sir,     You speak a language that I understand not.     My life stands in the level of your dreams,     Which I'll lay down.   LEONTES. Your actions are my dreams.     You had a bastard by Polixenes,     And I but dream'd 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.   HERMIONE. 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 favour,     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 barr'd, like one infectious; my third comfort,     Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast-     The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth-     Hal'd out to murder; myself on every post     Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred     The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs     To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried     Here to this place, i' th' 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 honour     Which I would free- if I shall be condemn'd     Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else     But what your jealousies awake, I tell you     'Tis rigour, and not law. Your honours all,     I do refer me to the oracle:     Apollo be my judge!   FIRST LORD. This your request     Is altogether just. Therefore, bring forth,     And in Apollo's name, his oracle.                                          Exeunt certain OFFICERS   HERMIONE. 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    OFFICER. 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 seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd     Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then     You have not dar'd to break the holy seal     Nor read the secrets in't.   CLEOMENES, DION. All this we swear.   LEONTES. Break up the seals and read.   OFFICER.  [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!   HERMIONE. Praised!   LEONTES. Hast thou read truth?   OFFICER. Ay, my lord; even so     As it is here set down.   LEONTES. There is no truth at all i' th' oracle.     The sessions shall proceed. This is mere falsehood.                          Enter a SERVANT    SERVANT. My lord the King, the King!   LEONTES. What is the business?   SERVANT. 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.   LEONTES. How! Gone?   SERVANT. Is dead.   LEONTES. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves     Do strike at my injustice.                 [HERMIONE swoons]     How now, there!   PAULINA. This news is mortal to the Queen. Look down     And see what death is doing.   LEONTES. Take her hence.     Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover.     I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion.     Beseech you tenderly apply to her     Some remedies for life.                          Exeunt PAULINA and LADIES with HERMIONE     Apollo, pardon     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 fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest     Unclasp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here,     Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard     Of all incertainties himself commended,     No richer than his honour. How he glisters     Thorough my rust! And how his piety     Does my deeds make the blacker!                        Re-enter PAULINA    PAULINA. Woe the while!     O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,     Break too!   FIRST LORD. What fit is this, good lady?   PAULINA. 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 ingrateful. Nor was't much     Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,     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 honourable thoughts-     Thoughts high for one so tender- cleft the heart     That could conceive a gross and foolish sire     Blemish'd his gracious dam. This is not, no,     Laid to thy answer; but the last- O lords,     When I have said, cry 'Woe!'- the Queen, the Queen,     The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead; and vengeance     For't not dropp'd down yet.   FIRST LORD. The higher pow'rs forbid!   PAULINA. I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath     Prevail not, go and see. If you can bring     Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye,     Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you     As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!     Do not repent these things, for they are heavier     Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee     To nothing but despair. A thousand knees     Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,     Upon a barren mountain, and still winter     In storm perpetual, could not move the gods     To look that way thou wert.   LEONTES. Go on, go on.     Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd     All tongues to talk their bitt'rest.   FIRST LORD. Say no more;     Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault     I' th' boldness of your speech.   PAULINA. I am sorry for't.     All faults I make, when I shall come to know them.     I do repent. Alas, I have show'd too much     The rashness of a woman! He is touch'd     To th' noble heart. What's gone and what's past help     Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction     At my petition; I beseech you, rather     Let me be punish'd that have minded you     Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,     Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman.     The love I bore your queen- lo, fool again!     I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;     I'll not remember you of my own lord,     Who is lost too. Take your patience to you,     And I'll say nothing.   LEONTES. Thou didst speak but well     When most the truth; which I receive much better     Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me     To the dead bodies of my queen and son.     One grave shall be for both. Upon them shall     The causes of their death appear, unto     Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit     The chapel where they lie; and tears shed there     Shall be my recreation. So long as nature     Will bear up with this exercise, so long     I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me     To these sorrows.                                     Exeunt     SCENE III. Bohemia. The sea-coast  Enter ANTIGONUS with the CHILD, and a MARINER    ANTIGONUS. Thou art perfect then our ship hath touch'd upon     The deserts of Bohemia?   MARINER. Ay, my lord, and fear     We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly     And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,     The heavens with that we have in hand are angry     And frown upon 's.   ANTIGONUS. Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard;     Look to thy bark. I'll not be long before     I call upon thee.   MARINER. Make your best haste; and go not     Too far i' th' land; 'tis like to be loud weather;     Besides, this place is famous for the creatures     Of prey that keep upon't.   ANTIGONUS. Go thou away;     I'll follow instantly.   MARINER. I am glad at heart     To be so rid o' th' business.                           Exit   ANTIGONUS. Come, poor babe.     I have heard, but not believ'd, the spirits o' th' dead     May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother     Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream     So like a waking. To me comes a creature,     Sometimes her head on one side some another-     I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,     So fill'd and so becoming; in pure white robes,     Like very sanctity, she did approach     My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me;     And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes     Became two spouts; the fury spent, anon     Did this break from her: 'Good Antigonus,     Since fate, against thy better disposition,     Hath made thy person for the thrower-out     Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,     Places remote enough are in Bohemia,     There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe     Is counted lost for ever, Perdita     I prithee call't. For this ungentle business,     Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see     Thy wife Paulina more.' so, with shrieks,     She melted into air. Affrighted much,     I did in time collect myself, and thought     This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys;     Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,     I will be squar'd by this. I do believe     Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that     Apollo would, this being indeed the issue     Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid,     Either for life or death, upon the earth     Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well!                                          [Laying down the child]     There lie, and there thy character; there these                                           [Laying down a bundle]     Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty,     And still rest thine. The storm begins. Poor wretch,     That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd     To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot,     But my heart bleeds; and most accurs'd am I     To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell!     The day frowns more and more. Thou'rt like to have     A lullaby too rough; I never saw     The heavens so dim by day.  [Noise of hunt within]  A savage       clamour!     Well may I get aboard! This is the chase;     I am gone for ever.                  Exit, pursued by a bear                        Enter an old SHEPHERD    SHEPHERD. I would there were no age between ten and three and     twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is     nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging     the ancientry, stealing, fighting-  [Horns]  Hark you now! Would     any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two and twenty hunt     this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep, which I     fear the wolf will sooner find than the master. If any where I     have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't     be thy will! What have we here?  [Taking up the child]  Mercy     on's, a barne! A very pretty barne. A boy or a child, I wonder? A     pretty one; a very pretty one- sure, some scape. Though I am not     bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This     has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work;     they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll     take it up for pity; yet I'll tarry till my son come; he halloo'd     but even now. Whoa-ho-hoa!                            Enter CLOWN    CLOWN. Hilloa, loa!   SHEPHERD. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when     thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'st thou, man?   CLOWN. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! But I am     not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the     firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.   SHEPHERD. Why, boy, how is it?   CLOWN. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it     takes up the shore! But that's not to the point. O, the most     piteous cry of the poor souls! Sometimes to see 'em, and not to     see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast, and anon     swallowed with yeast and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a     hogshead. And then for the land service- to see how the bear tore     out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his     name was Antigonus, a nobleman! But to make an end of the ship-     to see how the sea flap-dragon'd it; but first, how the poor     souls roared, and the sea mock'd them; and how the poor gentleman     roared, and the bear mock'd him, both roaring louder than the sea     or weather.   SHEPHERD. Name of mercy, when was this, boy?   CLOWN. Now, now; I have not wink'd since I saw these sights; the     men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half din'd on the     gentleman; he's at it now.   SHEPHERD. Would I had been by to have help'd the old man!   CLOWN. I would you had been by the ship-side, to have help'd her;     there your charity would have lack'd footing.   SHEPHERD. Heavy matters, heavy matters! But look thee here, boy.     Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying, I with things     new-born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for     a squire's child! Look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't.     So, let's see- it was told me I should be rich by the fairies.     This is some changeling. Open't. What's within, boy?   CLOWN. You're a made old man; if the sins of your youth are     forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!   SHEPHERD. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. Up with't,     keep it close. Home, home, the next way! We are lucky, boy; and     to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go.     Come, good boy, the next way home.   CLOWN. Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if the     bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten. They     are never curst but when they are hungry. If there be any of him     left, I'll bury it.   SHEPHERD. That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which     is left of him what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him.   CLOWN. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' th' ground.   SHEPHERD. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't.                                                           Exeunt