So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours No yellow' in't; lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's! Leon. A gross hag! And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her tongue. Hang all the husbands, That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject. Once more, take her hence. Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. Leon. Paul. I'll have thee burn'd. I care not: It is an heretick, that makes the fire, Not she, 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 savours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. Leon. On your allegiance, Were I a tyrant, Out of the chamber with her. Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send her A better guiding spirit!-What need these hands? You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, 7 The colour of jealousy. • Worthless fellow. Will never do him good, not one of you. So, so:-Farewell; we are gone. [Exit. Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. My child? away with't!-even 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: The bastard 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. 1 Lord. We can; my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. Leon. You are liars all. 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit: We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech (As recompense of our dear services, Past, and to come,) that you do change this purpose; Leon. 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, ! 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 bastard's life: -for 'tis a bastard, So sure as this beard's grey,-what will you adven ture To save this brat's life? 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. Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword, Thou wilt perform my bidding. Ant. I will, my lord. Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) for the fail Of any point in't shall not only be 9 It was anciently a practice to swear by the cross at the hilt of a sword. i. e. Commit it to some place as a stranger. Where chance may nurse, or end it: Take it up, In more than this deed doth require! and blessing, Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! Leon. [Exit, with the Child. No, I'll not rear Another's issue. 1 Atten. Please your highness, posts, From those you sent to the oracle, are come An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to the court. 1 Lord. So please you, sir, their speed Hath been beyond account. Twenty-three days They have been absent: "Tis good speed; foretels, The great Apollo suddenly 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 A just and open trial. While she lives, My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me; [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. The same. A Street in some Town. Enter CLEOMENES and DION. Cleo. The climate's delicate; the air most sweet; Fertile the isle; the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears. Dion. I shall report, For most it caught me, the celestial habits, (Methinks, I so should term them,) and the re verence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly It was i'the offering ! Clev. But, of all, the burst And the ear-deafening voice o'the oracle, That I was nothing. Dion. If the event o'the journey Prove as successful to the queen, O, be't so!As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy, The time is worth the use on't.2 Cleo. Great Apollo, Turn all to the best! These proclamations, I little like. Dion. The violent carriage of it Will clear, or end, the business: When the oracle, 2 i. e. spent in it. Our journey has recompensed us the time we |