_Her._ Since what I am to say must be but that 20 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, 25 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, 30 Who least will seem to do so, 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 play'd to take spectators. For behold me 35 A fellow of the royal bed, which owe A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it 40 As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Came to your court, how I was in your grace, 45 How merited to be so; since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain'd, to appear thus: if one jot beyond The bound of honour, or in act or will That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts 50 Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin Cry fie upon my grave! _Leon._ I ne'er heard yet That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did Than to perform it first. _Her._ That's true enough; 55 Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. _Leon._ You will not own it. _Her._ More than mistress of Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, With whom I am accused, I do confess 60 I loved him as in honour he required, With such a kind of love as might become A lady like me, with a love even such, So and no other, as yourself commanded: Which not to have done I think had been in me 65 Both disobedience and ingratitude To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke, Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd 70 For me to try how: all I know of it Is that Camillo was an honest man; And why he left your court, the gods themselves, Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.