1. L. This your request

Is altogether juft:therefore, bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his oracle.

[Exeunt certain Officers,

HER. The emperor of Ruffia was my father:
O, that he were alive, and here beholding
His daughter's trial! that he did but fee
The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes
Of pity, not revenge!

Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES,
and DION, bringing in the Oracle.
Off. You here fhall fwear upon this
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have

fword of juftice,

Been both at Delphos ; and from thence have brought
This feal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd
Of great Apollo's prieft; and that, fince then,
You have not dar'd to break the holy feal,
Nor read the secrets in't.

CLE. DIO. All this we fwear.

LEO. Break up the feals, and read.

Off. [reads.] Hermione is chaft, Polixenes blamelefs, Camillo a true fubject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, bis innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that, which is loft, be not found.

Lor. Now bleffed be the great Apollo !

HER. Praised!

LEO. Haft thou read truth?

Off Ay, my lord; even fo

As it is here fet down.

LEO. There is no truth at all i'the oracle :

The feffions fhall proceed; this is meer falfhood,

Enter a Gentleman, baftily.

Gen. My lord the king, the king!

LEO. What is the business?

Gen. O, fir, I fhall be hated to report it: The prince your fon, with meer conceit and fear Of the queen's fpeed, is gone.

LEO. How! gone?

Gen. Is dead.

LEO. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves Do ftrike at my injuftice. [Her. faints.] How now there? PAU. This news is mortal to the queen: Look down, And fee what death is doing.

LEO. Take her hence:

Her heart is but o'er-charg'd; fhe will recover.—

[HER. is born off; PAU. and Ladies follow her. I have too much believ'd mine own fufpicion : 'Befeech you, tenderly, apply to her Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon My great prophanenefs '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 tranfported by my jealoufies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minifter, to poison

My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardy'd
My fwift 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
Unclafp'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 glifters
Through my dark ruft! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!

Re-enter PAULINA, haftily.

PAU. Woe the while!

O, cut my lace; left my heart, cracking it,

Break too!

1. L. What fit is this, good lady?

PAU, What study'd torments, tyrant, haft for me? What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying, rather: boiling In leads, or oils? what old, or newer, torture

Muft I receive; whose every word deserves
To taste of thy most worft? Thy tyranny,
Together working with thy jealoufies,

(Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine) o, think what they have done,
And then run mad indeed; ftark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but fpices of it.
That thou betray'dft Polixenes, 'twas nothing;
That did but shew thee, of a fool, inconftant,
And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would't have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a king; poor trefpaffes,
More monftrous ftanding by: whereof I reckon
The cafting-forth to crows thy baby daughter
To be or none, or little; though a devil
Would have fhed water out of fire, ere don't:
Nor is't directly lay'd to thee, the death

Of the young prince; whose honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one fo tender) cleft the heart,

That could conceive, a grofs and foolish fire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Lay'd to thy answer: But the last, O, lords,
When I have faid, cry, woe!— the queen, the queen,
The sweet'ft, dear'ft, creature's dead; and vengeance for't
Not dropt down yet.

1. L. The higher powers forbid!

PAU. I fay, fhe's dead; I'll fwear't: if word, nor oath,
Prevail not, go and fee: if you can bring
Tincture, or luftre, in her lip, her eye,

Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll ferve 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 ftir: therefore betake thee
To nothing but defpair: a thousand knees,
Ten thousand years together, naked, fafting,
Upon a barren mountain, and ftill winter
In ftorm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.

LEO. Go on, go on :

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitt'reft.

1. L. Say no more;

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I'the boldness of your speech.

PAU. I am forry for❜t;

All faults I make, when I fhall come to know them, I do repent: Alas, I have fhew'd too much

The rashness of a woman he is touch'd

To the 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 fir, 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 loft too: take you your patience to you,
And I'll fay nothing.

LEO. Thou did'nt speak but well,

When most the truth; which I receive much better,
Than to be pity'd of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me
To the dead bodies of my queen, and fon:
One grave fhall be for both; upon them fhall
The causes of their death appear, unto
Our shame perpetual: Once a day, I'll visit
The chapel where they lye; and tears, shed there,
Shall be my recreation: fo long as nature
Will bear up with this exercise, fo long
I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me
To these my forrows.

[Exeunt

SCENE III. Bohemia. Desarts upon the Sea. Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner. ANT. Thou art perfect then, our fhip hath touch'd upon The desarts of Bohemia?

Mar. Ay, my lord; and fear

We have landed in ill time: the fkies look grimly,
And threaten present blufters. In my confcience,
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry,
And frown upon us.

ANT. Their facred wills be done! - Go, get aboard, Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before