To me can life be no commodity.

The crown and comfort of my life, your Favour,
I do give loft; for I do feel it gone,

But know not how it went, My fecond joy,
The firft-fruits of my body, from his prefence
I'm barr'd like one infectious. My third comfort,
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its moft innocent mouth,
Hal'd out to murder; myfelf on every post
Proclaim'd a ftrumpet; with immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege deny'd, which 'longs
To women of all fashion. Laftly, hurried
Here to this place, i'th' open air, before
I have got ftrength of limit. Now, my Leige,
Tell me what bleffings I have here alive,
That I fhould fear to die? therefore proceed:
But yet hear this; mistake me not;--no life,
I prize it not a straw-but for mine honour,
Which I would free, if I fhall be condemn'd
Upon furmifes, (all proofs fleeping elfe,
But what your jealoufies awake) I tell you,"
'Tis Rigour, and not Law. Your Honours all,
I do refer me to the Oracle ;

Apollo be my judge.

SCENE III:

Enter Dion and Cleomines.

Lord. This your request

Is altogether juft; therefore bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his Oracle.

Her. The Emperor of Ruffia was my father,

I have got ftrength of limit.] I know not well how ftrength of limit can mean frength to pass the limits of the childbed chamber,

which yet it muft mean in this place, unlefs we read in a more eafy phrafe, ftrength of limb. And now, &c.

Oh,

Oh, that he were alive, and here beholding
His daughter's trial; that he did but fee
The flatnefs of my mifery; yet with eyes.
Óf Pity, not Revenge!

Off. You here fhall fwear upon the Sword of Juftice,
That you, Cleomines and Dion, have

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 since then
You have not dar'd to break the holy Seal,
Nor read the fecrets in't.

Cleo, Dion. All this we fwear.

Leo. Break up the Seals, and read.

Offi. Hermione is chafte, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true Subject, Leontes a jealous Tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and the King shall live without an heir, if that, which is loft, be not found. Lords. Now bleffed be the great Apollo!

Her. Praifed!

Leo. Haft thou read truth?

Offi. Ay, my Lord, even fo as it is here fet down.
Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle;
The Seffion shall proceed; this is mere falfhood.

Enter Servant.

Ser. My Lord the King, the King,

Leo. What is the bufinefs?

Ser. O Sir, I fhall be hated to report it.

The Prince your fon, with mere conceit and fear
Of the Queen's Speed, is gone 2.

Leo. How gone?

Ser. Is dead.

Leo. Apollo's angry, and the heav'ns themselves

The flatness of my misery.] That is, how long, how flat I am laid by my calamity.

Do strike at my injuftice.-How now? there!

[Hermione faints. Paul. 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.

[Exeunt Paulina and ladies with Hermione,

SCENE IV.

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 Minifler, to poifon

My friend Polixenes; which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My fwift Command; tho' I with death, and with
Reward, did threaten, and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done; he (moft humane,
And fill'd with Honour) to my kingly Gueft
Unclafp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himfelf commended,

No richer than his honour: how he glifters
Through my dark Ruft! and how his Piety
Does my deeds make the blacker 3!

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

Break too.

Lord. What fit is this, good lady?

Paul. What ftudied torments, Tyrant, haft for me? What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling? burning

In leads, or oils? what old, or newer, torture
Muft I receive? whofe every word deferves
To tafte of thy most worst. 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; stark mad, for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but fpices of it.
That thou betray'dft Polixenes, 'twas nothing;
That did but fhew thee, of a Fool, inconftant 4,
And damnable ingrateful; nor was't much,
Thou would't have poifon'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a King: poor trefpaffes,

4 That thou betray'dft Polixe- call him Idiot to his Face.THEOB. nes, 'twas nothing; Shew thee of a fool-] That did but fhew thee, of a So all the copies. We fhould Fool, inconftant, read,fhew thee off, a fool,And damnable ingrateful.] I i. e. reprefent thee in thy true have ventur'd at a flight Altera. colours; a fool, an inconftant, tion here, against the Authority &c. of all the Copies, and for fool read foul. It is certainly too grofs and blunt in Paulina, tho' The might impeach the King of Fooleries in fome of his paft Actions and Conduct, to call him downright a Fool. And it is much more pardonable in her to arraign his Morals, and the Qualities of his Mind, than rudely to

WARBURTON. Poor Mr. Theobald's courtly remark cannot be thought to deserve much notice. Dr. Warbur ton too might have fpared his fagacity if he had remembered, that the prefent reading, by a mode of fpeech anciently much used, means only, It show'd thee first a fool, then inconftant and ungrateful.

More

More monftrous ftanding by; whereof I reckon
The cafting forth to crows thy baby-daughter,
To be, or none, or little; tho' a devil

Would have fhed water out of fire, ere don't:
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death

Of the young Prince, whofe honourable thoughts.
(Thoughts high for one fo tender) cleft the heart,
That could conceive a grofs and foolish Sire
Blemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer; but the last -O Lords,
When I have faid, cry, Woe! - the Queen, the Queen,
The sweetest, deareft, creature's dead; and vengeance
for't

Not drop down yet.

Lord. The higher powers forbid!

Paul. 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 Despair. A thousand knees,
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still 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 bitterest.

Lord. Say no more;

Howe'er the bufinefs goes, you have made fault
I'th' boldness of your fpeech.

Paul. I am forry fort *.

All faults I make, when I fhall come to know them,

This is another infiance to vehement and ungovernable

of the fudden changes incident minds.