...They talk privately.
Enter Leontes, Antigonus, and Lords.
...the Queen again.
Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice
Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer:
Yourself, your queen, your son.
...you accuse her.
If it prove
She’s otherwise, I’ll keep my stables where
I lodge my wife. I’ll go in couples with her;
Than when I feel and see her, no farther trust her.
For every inch of woman in the world,
Ay, every dram of woman’s flesh, is false,
If she be.
...Good my lord—
It is for you we speak, not for ourselves.
You are abused, and by some putter-on
That will be damned for ’t. Would I knew the villain!
I would land-damn him. Be she honor-flawed,
I have three daughters—the eldest is eleven;
The second and the third, nine and some five;
If this prove true, they’ll pay for ’t. By mine honor,
I’ll geld ’em all; fourteen they shall not see
To bring false generations. They are co-heirs,
And I had rather glib myself than they
Should not produce fair issue.
...instruments that feel.
If it be so,
We need no grave to bury honesty.
There’s not a grain of it the face to sweeten
Of the whole dungy Earth.
...all Properly ours.
And I wish, my liege,
You had only in your silent judgment tried it,
Without more overture.
...raise us all.
To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth were known.
...within my power.
Enter Paulina, carrying the baby, with Servants, Antigonus, and Lords.
...he is jealous.
...knew she would.
I told her so, my lord,
On your displeasure’s peril and on mine,
She should not visit you.
...not rule me.
La you now, you hear.
When she will take the rein I let her run,
But she’ll not stumble.
...nest of traitors!
I am none, by this good light.
...stay her tongue.
Hang all the husbands
That cannot do that feat, you’ll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.
...on thy wife.
I did not, sir.
These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
Can clear me in ’t.
...this brat’s life?
Anything, my lord,
That my ability may undergo
And nobleness impose. At least thus much:
I’ll pawn the little blood which I have left
To save the innocent. Anything possible.
...perform my bidding.
his hand on the hilt
I will, my lord.
...Take it up.
I swear to do this, though a present death
Had been more merciful.—Come on, poor babe. He picks up the baby.
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens
To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say,
Casting their savageness aside, have done
Like offices of pity. To Leontes.
Sir, be prosperous
In more than this deed does require.—And blessing
Against this cruelty fight on thy side,
Poor thing, condemned to loss.
He exits, carrying the baby.
...To these sorrows.
Enter Antigonus carrying the babe, and a Mariner.
Thou art perfect, then, our ship hath touched upon
The deserts of Bohemia?
...frown upon ’s.
Their sacred wills be done. Go, get aboard.
Look to thy bark. I’ll not be long before
I call upon thee.
...keep upon ’t.
Go thou away.
I’ll follow instantly.
...o’ th’ business.
Come, poor babe.
I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o’ th’ dead
May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother
Appeared 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 filled and so becoming. In pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay, thrice bowed 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 forever, Perdita
I prithee call ’t. For this ungentle business
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne’er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more.” And 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 squared by this. I do believe
Hermione hath suffered 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.
There lie, and there thy character; there these, He lays down the baby, a bundle, and a box.
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 exposed
To loss and what may follow. Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds, and most accurst am I
To be by oath enjoined 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.
Thunder, and sounds of hunting.
A savage clamor!
Well may I get aboard! This is the chase.
I am gone forever!
He exits, pursued by a bear.