'twas nothing;
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,
And damnable ingrateful; nor was't much
Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses,--
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter,
To be or none or little, though a devil
Would have shed water out of fire ere done't;
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts,--
Thoughts high for one so tender,--cleft the heart
That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not,--no,
Laid to thy answer: but the last,--O lords,
When I have said, cry Woe!--the queen, the queen,
The sweetest, dearest creature's dead; and vengeance for't
Not dropp'd down yet.

FIRST LORD.
The higher powers forbid!

PAULINA.
I say she's dead: I'll swear't. If word nor oath
Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve 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 stir; therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.

LEONTES.
Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest!

FIRST LORD.
Say no more:
Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I' the boldness of your speech.

PAULINA.
I am sorry for't:
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent. Alas, I have show'd too much
The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd
To th' noble heart--What's gone and what's past help,
Should be past grief: do not receive affliction
At my petition; I beseech you, rather
Let me be punish'd, that have minded you
Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
The love I bore your queen,--lo, fool again!--
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember you of my own lord,
Who is lost too: take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.

LEONTES.
Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth; which I receive much better
Than to be