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	THE WINTER'S TALE
	Act 3 scene 2
Hermione:
Since what I am to say must be but that
Which contradicts my accusation, and
The testimony on my part no other
But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me
To say "not guilty": mine integrity,
Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
Be so received... But thus, if powers divine
Behold our human actions (as they do),
I doubt not then but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience... You, my lord, best know
(Who least will seem to do) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devised
And played to take spectators.  For behold me,
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
A moity of the throne... a great kings daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing 
To prate and talk for life and honor, 'fore
Who please to come and hear.  For life, I prize it
As I weigh grief (which I would spare): for honor,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I stand for... I appeal
To your conscience, sir, before Polixenes
Came to ; your court, how I was in your grace, 
How merited to be so; since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strained t'appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honor, or in act or will
That way inclining hard'ned be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my nears't of kin
Cry fie upon my grave!
Sir, spare your threats:
The bug which you would fright me with I seek:
To me can life be no commodity:
The crown and comfort of my life (your favour)
I do give lost, for I do feel it gone,
But know not how it went.  My second joy,
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence 
I am barred, like one infectious.  My third comfort
(Starred most unluckily!) is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murder.  Myself on every post
Proclaimed a strumpet: with immodest hatred
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
To women of all fashion.  Lastly, hurried
Here, to this place, i'th'open air, before
I have got strength of limit.  Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die?  Therefore proceed...
But yet hear this: mistake me not: no life!-
I prize it not a straw - but for mine honor,
Which I would free... If I shall be condemned
Upon surmises (all proofs sleeping else
But what your jealousies awake) I tell you,
'Tis rigour and not law... Your honours all,
I do refer me to the oracle;
Apollo be my judge.