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MAMILLIUS. A sad tale's best for winter. I have one |
Of sprites and goblins. |
HERMIONE. Let's have that, good sir. |
Come on, sit down; come on, and do your best |
To fright me with your sprites; you're pow'rfull at it. |
MAMILLIUS. There was a man- |
HERMIONE. Nay, come, sit down; then on. |
MAMILLIUS. 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 OTHERS |
LEONTES. 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 blest 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 |
Th' 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 |
[MAMILLIUS is led out] |
With that she's big with- for 'tis Polixenes |
Has made thee swell thus. |
HERMIONE. But I'd say he had not, |
And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, |
Howe'er you lean to th' 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 ad |
'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't 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 bold'st 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 school-boy'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 |
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