Pol.

His execution sworn.

I do believe thee:

I saw his heart in 's face. Give me thy hand:
Be pilot to me and thy places shall

Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and
My people did expect my hence departure
Two days ago. This jealousy

Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,
Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,
Must it be violent; and as he does conceive

He is dishonour'd by a man which ever

Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must

450

In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me:
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo ; 460
I will respect thee as a father if

Thou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid.
Cam. It is in mine authoity to command

The keys of all the posterns: please your highness
To take the urgent hour. Come, sir away.

[Exeunt.

Act Second.

Scene I.

A room in Leontes' palace.

Enter Hermione, Mamillius, and Ladies.

Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,

'Tis past enduring.

First Lady. Come, my gracious lord,

Mam.

Shall I be your playfellow?

No, I'll none of you.

First Lady. Why, my sweet lord?

Mam. You'll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if
I were a baby still. I love you t etter.
Sec. Lady. And why so, my lord?

Mam.

Not for because

Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say,
Become some women best, so that there be not

Too much hair there, but in a semicircle,

Or a half-moon made with a pen.

Sec. Lady.

ΙΟ

Who taught you this!
Pray now

Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces.

What colour are your eyebrows?

First Lady.

Blue, my lord.

Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.

First Lady.

Hark ye;

The queen your
mother rounds apace : we shall
Present our services to a fine new prince

One of these days; and then you'ld wanton with us,

If we would have you.

Sec. Lady.

She is spread of late

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Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her! Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now I am for you again: pray you, sit by us,

Mam.

And tell's a tale.

Merry or sad shall 't be?

Her. As merry as you will.

Mam. A sad tale's best for winter: I have one

Her.

Of sprites and goblins.

Let's have that, good sir.
Come on, sit down: come on, and do best
To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful

at it.

Mam. There was a man

Her.

your

Nay, come, sit down; then on.

Mam. Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly; 30 Yond crickets shall not hear it.

Her,

Come on, then,

And give 't me in mine ear.

Enter Leontes, with Antigonus, Lords, and others. Leon. Was 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 eyed them

Leon.

Even to their ships.

How blest am I

In my just censure, in my true opinion!
Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed

may

In being so blest! There 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

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The 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 pandar:
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

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For them to play at will. How came the posterns
So easily open?

First Lord.

Leon.

Her.

By his great authority;

Act II. Sc. i.

Which often hath no less prevail'd than so
On your command.

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.

What is this? sport?

бо

Leon. Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her;
Away with him! and let her sport herself
With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes
Has made the swell thus.

Her.

Leon.

But I'ld say he had not,
And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying,
Howe'er you lean to the nayward.

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 add
"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 pretty brands
That calumny doth use; O, I am out,

That mercy does, for calumny will sear

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