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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 |
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