Read it through once

LEONTES. I am a feather for each wind that blows. Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel And call me father? better burn it now Than curse it then. But be it; let it live. It shall not neither. [_To Antigonus._] You, sir, come you hither, You that have been so tenderly officious With Lady Margery, your midwife, there, To save this bastard’s life—for ’tis a bastard, So sure as this beard’s grey. What will you adventure To save this brat’s life?