Polixenes
    Has made thee swell thus.
  HERMIONE. But I'd say he had not,
    And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying,
    Howe'er you lean to th' 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 hearts 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 hum's 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 adultress.
  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 adultress; 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 lodg'd 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. [To the GUARD] 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 deserv'd 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!
                            Exeunt HERMIONE, guarded, and LADIES
  FIRST LORD. Beseech your Highness, call the Queen again.
  ANTIGONUS. Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice
    Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer,
    Yourself, your queen, your son.
  FIRST LORD. For her, my lord,
    I dare my life lay down- and will do't, sir,
    Please you t' accept it- that the Queen is spotless
    I' th' eyes of heaven and to you- I mean
    In this which you accuse her.
  ANTIGONUS. If it prove
    She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where
    I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her;
    Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her;
    For every inch of woman in the world,
    Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false,
    If she be.
  LEONTES. Hold your peaces.
  FIRST LORD. Good my lord-
  ANTIGONUS. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves.
    You are abus'd, and by some putter-on
    That will be damn'd for't. Would I knew the villain!
    I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd-
    I have three daughters: the eldest is eleven;
    The second and the third, nine and some five;
    If this prove true, they'll pay for 't. By mine honour,
    I'll geld 'em all; fourteen they shall not see
    To bring false generations. They are co-heirs;
    And I had rather glib myself than they
    Should not produce fair issue.
  LEONTES. Cease; no more.
    You smell this business with a sense as cold
    As is a dead man's nose; but I do see't and feel't
    As you feel doing thus; and see withal
    The instruments that feel.
  ANTIGONUS. If it be so,
    We need no grave to bury honesty;
    There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten
    Of the whole dungy earth.
  LEONTES. What! Lack I credit?
  FIRST LORD. I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,
    Upon this ground; and more it would content me
    To have her honour true than your suspicion,
    Be blam'd for't how you might.
  LEONTES. Why, what need we
    Commune with you of this, but rather follow
    Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative
    Calls not your counsels; but our natural goodness
    Imparts this; which, if you- or stupified
    Or seeming so in skill- cannot or will not
    Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves
    We need no more of your advice. The matter,
    The loss, the gain, the ord'ring on't, is all
    Properly ours.
  ANTIGONUS. And I wish, my liege,
    You had only in your silent judgment tried it,
    Without more overture.
  LEONTES. How could that be?
    Either thou art most ignorant by age,
    Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,
    Added to their familiarity-
    Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture,
    That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation
    But only seeing, all other circumstances
    Made up to th' deed- doth push on this proceeding.
    Yet, for a greater confirmation-
    For, in an act of this importance, 'twere
    Most piteous to be wild- I have dispatch'd in post
    To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple,
    Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know
    Of stuff'd sufficiency. Now, from the oracle
    They will bring all, whose spiritual counsel had,
    Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?
  FIRST LORD. Well done, my lord.
  LEONTES. Though I am satisfied, and need no more
    Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
    Give rest to th' minds of others such as he
    Whose ignorant credulity will not
    Come up to th' truth. So have we thought it good
    From our free person she should be