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Hang all the husbands, That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject.
Leon. Once more, take her hence. Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more.
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
I'll have thee burn'd.
I care not:
(Not able to produce more accusation
Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,) something
Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,
Leon. On your allegiance, Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her.
Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send
A better guiding spirit!—What need these hands?—
And see it instantly consum'd with fire;
Within this hour bring me word 'tis done,
1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit:
We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech
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, Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live: 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 adventure To save this brat's life?
Any thing, my lord,
That my ability may undergo,
I will, my lord. Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) for the fail
Of any point in't shall not only be
Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued wife;
Ant. I swear to do this; though a present death
In more than this deed does require! and blessing, Against this cruelty, fight on thy side,
Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! [Exit, with the child.
Leon. Another's issue.
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,
Hath been beyond account.
So please you, sir, their speed
Leon. 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 Been publickly accus'd, so shall she have A just and open trial. While she lives, My heart will be a burden to me. And think upon my bidding.
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 reve
Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
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.
I little like.
Dion. The violent carriage of it Will clear, or end, the business: When the oracle, (Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up,)