And now baits me! This brat is none of mine;
It is the iffue of Polixenes.
Hence with it, and together with the dam,
Commit them to the fire.

Pau. It is yours;
And, might we lay th' old proverb to your charge,
So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords,
Altho’ the print be little, the whole matter
And copy of the father; eye, nose, lip,
The trick of's frown, his forehead, nay, the valley,
The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek, his smiles,
The very mold and frame of hand, nail, finger.
And thou, good Goddess Nature, which halt made it
So like to him that got it, if thou hast
The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours

7:52 No yellow in't; left she suspect, as he does,

1 Her children not her husband's.

Leo. A gross hag!
And lozel, thou art worthy to be hang’d,
That wilt not stay her tongue.

Ant. Hang all the husbands,
That cannot do that feat, you'll leave your self
Hardly one Subject.

Leo. Once more, take her hence.

Pau. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more.

Leo. I'll ha’ thee burnt.

Pau. I care not;
It is an heretick that makes the fire,
Not the which burns in't. I'll not call you Tyrant,
But this most cruel usage of your Queen
(Not able to produce more accusation
Than your own weak-hing’d fancy) something favours
Of tyranny; and will ignoble make you,
Yea, scandalous to the world.

Leo. On your allegiance,
Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant,
Where were her life? lhe durft not call me fo,
If she did know me one. Away with her.
Pau, I pray you, do not puth me, I'll be gone.

Look

Look to your babe, my lord, 'tis yours; Jove send her
A better guiding spirit! What need these hands?
You, that are thus fo tender o'er his follies,
Will never do him good, not one of you.
So, so: farewel, we are gone.

[Exit.
Leo. Thou, traytor, haft set on thy wife to this.
My child ? away with’t. Even thou, thou that hast
A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence,
And see it instantly consum'd with fire;
Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight :
Within this hour bring me word it is done,
And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life,
With what thou else call'st thine: if thou refuse,
And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so:
The baftard brains with these my proper hands
Shall I dash out: go take it to the fire,
For thou sett’st on thy wife.

Ant. I did not, Sir:
These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
Can clear me in't.

Lord. We can; my royal liege,
He is not guilty of her coming hither.

Leo. You're liars all.

Lords. 'Beseech your Highness give us better credit.
We've always truly serv'd you, and beseech you
So to esteem of us: and on our knees we beg,
(As recompence of our dear services
Past, and to come) that you do change this purpose,
Which being so horrible, so bloody, must
Lead on to some foul issue. We all kneel-

Leo. I am a feather for each wind that blows:
Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel
And call me father? better burn it now,
Than curse it then. But be it; let it live:
It shall not neither. - You, Sir, come you hither;

[To Antigonus.
You, that have been so tenderly officious
With lady Margery, your midwife there,
To save this baltard's life; (for 'cis à bastard,
So sure as this beard's grey) what will you adventure
To save this brat's life?

Ant.

Ant. Any thing, 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; any thing possible.

Leo. It shall be possible ; swear by this sword, Thou wilt perform my bidding.

Ant. I will, my lord.

Leo. Mark and perform it; seest thou? for the fail Of any point in't shall not only be Death to thy self, but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife, Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoyn thee, As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carry This female bastard hence, and that thou bear it To some remote and defart place, quite out Of our dominions; and that there chou leave it, (Without more mercy,) to its own protection And favour of the climate. As by Itrange fortune It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture, That thou commend it strangely to some place, Where Chance may nurse, or end it. Take it up.

Ant. I swear to do this: tho' a present death Had been more merciful. Come on, poor Babe; Some powerful Spirit instruct the kites and ravens To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say, (Casting their favageness aside) have done Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous In more than this deed does require ; and Blessing, Against this Cruelty, fight on thy side! Poor thing, condemn’d to loss. [Exit, with the child.

Leo. No; I'll not rear
Another's issue.

Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Please your Highness, Pofts,
From those you sent to th’Oracle, are come
An hour since. Cleomines and Dion,
Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed,
Hasting to th’ Court.
VOL. III.

H

Lord.

Lord. So please you, Sir, their speed Hath been beyond account.

Leo. Twenty three days They have been absent; this good fpeed føretels, The great Apollo fuddenly will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords, Summon a Session, that we may arraign Our most disloyal lady; for as she hath Been publickly accus'd, so fhall the have A just and open tryal. While she lives, My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me, And think upon my bidding [Exeunt, severalty.

A C T III.
SCENE, a Part of Sicily near the

Sea-side.
Enter Cleomines and Dion.

CLEOMINES.
HE climate's delicate, the air most sweet, (12)

Fertile the ifle, the temple much surpaling
The common praise it bears.

Dion. (12) The Climate's delicate, the Air most sweet,

Fertile the Ifle] I must subjoin a very reasonable. Con jecture of my friend upon this paffage." But the Temple of

Apollo at Delphi was not in an Isand, but in Phocis on the Continent. “ It's plain, the blundering Transcribers had their Heads running on “ Delos, an Island of the Cyclades. So that the true Reading is undoubtedly ;

The Climate's delicate, the Air most sweet,

Fertile the Soil; “ Soil might with a very easy Transposition of the Letters be corrupted

to Isle. But the true Reading manifests itself likewise on this Ae count; that, in a Description, the Sweetness of Air, and Fertility of Soil, is much more terse and elegant than Air and Ifle.

Mr: Warburtow.

But

Dion. I shall report, (13)
For moft it caught me, the celestial habits,
(Methinks, I so should term them,) and the reverence
Of the grave wearers. O, the Sacrifice
How ceremonious, folemn, and unearthly
It was i'th' offering!

Cleo. But of all, the Burst
And the ear-deafning voice o'th' Oracle,
Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpriz’d my Sense,
That I was nothing.

Dion. If th' event o' th' journey
Prove as successful to the Queen, (0, be't so!)

O