LEONTES Give me the boy: I am glad yo...

LEONTES

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.

HERMIONE

What is this? sport?

LEONTES

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 thee swell thus.

HERMIONE

But I'ld say he had not,

And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying,

Howe'er you lean to the nayward.

LEONTES

You, my lords,

Look on her, mark her well; be but about

To say 'she is a goodly lady,' and

The justice of your bearts 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 petty brands

That calumny doth use--O, I am out--

That mercy does, for calumny will sear

Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and ha's,

When you have said 'she's goodly,' come between

Ere you can say 'she's honest:' but be 't known,

From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,

She's an adulteress.

HERMIONE

Should a villain say so,

The most replenish'd villain in the world,

He were as much more villain: you, my lord,

Do but mistake.

LEONTES

You have mistook, my lady,

Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing!

Which I'll not call a creature of thy place,

Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,

Should a like language use to all degrees

And mannerly distinguishment leave out

Betwixt the prince and beggar: I have said

She's an adulteress; I have said with whom:

More, she's a traitor and Camillo is

A federary with her, and one that knows

What she should shame to know herself

But with her most vile principal, that she's

A bed-swerver, even as bad as those

That vulgars give bold'st titles, ay, and privy

To this their late escape.

HERMIONE

No, by my life.

Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,

When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that

You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord,

You scarce can right me throughly then to say

You did mistake.

LEONTES

No; if I mistake

In those foundations which I build upon,

The centre is not big enough to bear

A school-boy's top. Away with her! to prison!

He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty

But that he speaks.

HERMIONE

There's some ill planet reigns:

I must be patient till the heavens look

With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,

I am not prone to weeping, as our sex

Commonly are; the want of which vain dew

Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have

That honourable grief lodged here which burns

Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,

With thoughts so qualified as your charities

Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so

The king's will be perform'd!

LEONTES

Shall I be heard?

HERMIONE

Who is't that goes with me? Beseech your highness,

My women may be with me; for you see

My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools;

There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress

Has deserved prison, then abound in tears

As I come out: this action I now go on

Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord:

I never wish'd to see you sorry; now

I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave.

LEONTES

Go, do our bidding; hence!