Leon. Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door; A most intelligencing bawd! Paul. Not so: I am as ignorant in that, as you In so entitling me: and no less honest Leon. Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard:Thou, dotard, [TO ANTIGONUS.] thou art woman tir'd, unroosted By thy dame Partlet here, -take up the bastard; Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone. Paul. 5 For ever Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Which he has put upon't! Leon. He dreads his wife. Paul. So, I would, you did; then 'twere past all doubt, You'd call your children yours. Leon. A nest of traitors! Ant. I am none, by this good light. Nor I; nor any, But one, that's here; and that's himself: for he His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, • A mankind witch!] i. e. masculine. 4 -thou art woman-tir'd,] Woman-tir'd, is peck'd by a woman; hen-pecked. thy crone.] i. e. thy old-worn out woman. A croan is An old toothless sheep: thence an old woman. • Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Tak'st up the princess, by that forced baseness-] Leontes had ordered Antigonus to take up the bastard; Paulina forbids him to Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not (For, as the case now stands, it is a curse He cannot be compell'd to't,) once remove The root of his opinion, which is rotten, As ever oak, or stone, was sound. Leon. A callat, Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her hus band, And now baits me! -This brat is none of mine; It is the issue of Polixenes: Hence with it; and, together with the dam, Commit them to the fire. Paul. It is yours; And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, So like you, 'tis the worse.-Behold, my lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father: eye, nose, lip, The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the val ley, The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his smiles; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:And, thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it 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. Ant. Hang all the husbands, That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself 7 No yellow in't;] Yellow is the colour of jeolousy. $ And, lozel,] A term of contempt, meaning worthless, dishonest. Leon. Once more, take her hence. Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. Leon. I'll have thee burn'd. Paul. 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 sa vours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. Leon. On your allegiance, 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?- 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 Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight: 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. 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit: We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech So to esteem of us: And on our knees we beg, (As recompense of our dear services, Past, and to come,) that you do change this pur pose; Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must Leon. I am a feather for each wind that blows : Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel [TO ANTIGONUS. You, that have been so tenderly officious To save this brat's life? Ant. Any thing, my lord, That my ability may undergo, Thou wilt perform my bidding. Ant. I will, my lord. 4 Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) for the fail : swear by the cross on the handle of a sword. 9 Swear by this sword,] It was anciently the custom to Of any point in't shall not only be Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! Leon. Another's issue. 1 Atten. [Exit, with the Child. No, I'll not rear Please your highness, posts, From those you sent to the oracle, are come 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. Leon. Twenty-three days They have been absent: 'Tis good speed; foretels, 1 - commend it strangely to some place,] Commit it to some place, as a stranger, without more provision. |