Keeper. 
I do believe it.

Paulina. 
Do not you fear:  upon mine honour, I
Will stand betwixt you and danger.

[Exeunt.]

Scene III.  The same.  A Room in the Palace.

[Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and other Attendants.]

Leontes. 
Nor night nor day no rest:  it is but weakness
To bear the matter thus,—­mere weakness.  If
The cause were not in being,—­part o’ the cause,
She the adultress; for the harlot king
Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank
And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she
I can hook to me:—­say that she were gone,
Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest
Might come to me again.—­Who’s there?

First attendant. 
                                      My lord?

Leontes. 
How does the boy?

First attendant. 
                  He took good rest to-night;
’Tis hop’d his sickness is discharg’d.

Leontes. 
To see his nobleness! 
Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,
He straight declin’d, droop’d, took it deeply,
Fasten’d and fix’d the shame on’t in himself,
Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,
And downright languish’d.—­Leave me solely:—­go,
See how he fares.—­

[Exit first attendant.]

Fie, fie! no thought of him;
The very thought of my revenges that way
Recoil upon me:  in himself too mighty,
And in his parties, his alliance,—­let him be,
Until a time may serve:  for present vengeance,
Take it on her.  Camillo and Polixenes
Laugh at me; make their pastime at my sorrow: 
They should not laugh if I could reach them; nor
Shall she within my power.

[Enter Paulina, with a Child.]

First lord. 
                            You must not enter.

Paulina. 
Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me: 
Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,
Than the queen’s life? a gracious innocent soul,
More free than he is jealous.

Antigonus. 
                              That’s enough.

Second attendant. 
Madam, he hath not slept to-night; commanded
None should come at him.

Paulina. 
                         Not so hot, good sir;
I come to bring him sleep.  ’Tis such as you,—­
That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh
At each his needless heavings,—­such as you
Nourish the cause of his awaking:  I
Do come, with words as med’cinal as true,
Honest as either, to purge him of that humour
That presses him from sleep.

Leontes. 
                             What noise there, ho?

Paulina. 
No noise, my lord; but needful conference
About some gossips for your highness.