#leontes

(angry and jealous version?)

Aeneas and Creusa, The Aeneid.

Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,

As I by thine a wife: this is a match,

And made between 's by vows. Thou hast found mine;

But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her,

As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many

A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far—

For him, I partly know his mind—to find thee

An honourable husband. Come, Camillo,

And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty

Is richly noted and here justified

By us, a pair of kings. Let 's from this place.

What! look upon my brother: both your pardons,

That e'er I put between your holy looks

My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law,

And son unto the king, who, heavens directing,

Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,

Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely

Each one demand an answer to his part

Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first

We were dissever'd: hastily lead away.

That I have had of thee!

He dies to me again when talk'd of: sure,

When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches

Will bring me to consider that which may

Unfurnish me of reason. They are come.

Re-enter CLEOMENES and others, with FLORIZEL and PERDITA.

Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince;

For she did print your royal father off,

Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one,

Your father's image is so hit in you,

His very air, that I should call you brother,

As I did him, and speak of something wildly

By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome!

And your fair princess,—goddess!—O, Alas!

I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth

Might thus have stood begetting wonder as

You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost—

All mine own folly—the society,

Amity too, of your brave father, whom,

Though bearing misery, I desire my life

Once more to look on him.

A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make,

Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down

More penitence than done trespass: at the last,

Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil;

With them forgive yourself.

Of any point in 't shall not only be

Death to thyself but to thy lewd-tongued wife,

Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee,

As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carry

This female bastard hence and that thou bear it

To some remote and desert place quite out

Of our dominions, and that there thou leave it,

Without more mercy, to its own protection

And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune

It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,

On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture,

That thou commend it strangely to some place

Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.