The Winter's Tale Read online

  When I have said212, cry woe! The queen, the queen,

  The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead, and vengeance for't

  Not dropped down214 yet.

  A LORD The higher powers forbid!

  PAULINA I say she's dead. I'll swear't. If word nor oath

  Prevail not, go and see. If you can bring

  Tincture or lustre218 in her lip, her eye,

  Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you

  As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant,

  Do not repent these things, for they are heavier

  Than all thy woes can stir221: therefore betake thee

  To222 nothing but despair. A thousand knees

  Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,

  Upon a barren mountain and still225 winter

  In storm perpetual, could not move the gods

  To look that way thou wert227.

  LEONTES Go on, go on.

  Thou canst not speak too much. I have deserved

  All tongues to talk their bitt'rest.

  To Paulina

  A LORD Say no more.

  Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault

  I'th'boldness of your speech232.

  PAULINA I am sorry for't;

  All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,

  I do repent. Alas, I have showed too much

  The rashness of a woman. He is touched

  To th'noble heart. What's gone and what's past help

  Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction

  At my petition240; I beseech you, rather

  Let me be punished, that have minded241 you

  Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,

  Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman.

  The love I bore your queen -- lo, fool again! --

  I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children.

  I'll not remember246 you of my own lord,

  Who is lost too. Take your patience247 to you,

  And I'll say nothing.

  LEONTES Thou didst speak but well

  When most the truth249, which I receive much better

  Than to be pitied of251 thee. Prithee bring me

  To the dead bodies of my queen and son.

  One grave shall be for both: upon them253 shall

  The causes of their death appear, unto

  Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit

  The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there

  Shall be my recreation. So long as nature

  Will bear up with this exercise257, so long

  I daily vow to use259 it. Come and lead me

  To these sorrows.

  Exeunt

  Act 3 Scene 3 running scene 7

  Location: Bohemia (coast)

  * * *

  Enter Antigonus [carrying the] babe, [and] a Mariner

  ANTIGONUS Thou art1 perfect then, our ship hath touched upon

  The deserts2 of Bohemia?

  MARINER Ay, my lord, and fear

  We have landed in ill time. The skies look grimly

  And threaten present blusters5. In my conscience,

  The heavens with that we have in hand6 are angry

  And frown upon's.

  ANTIGONUS Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard.

  Look to thy bark9. I'll not be long before

  I call upon thee.

  MARINER Make your best haste, and go not

  Too far i'th'land: 'tis like to be loud12 weather.

  Besides, this place is famous for the creatures

  Of prey that keep upon't.

  ANTIGONUS Go thou away. I'll follow instantly.

  MARINER I am glad at heart

  To be so rid o'th'business.

  Exit

  ANTIGONUS Come, poor babe.

  I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o'th'dead

  May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother

  Appeared to me last night, for ne'er was dream

  So like a waking. To me comes a creature22,

  Sometimes her head on one side, some another23.

  I never saw a vessel24 of like sorrow,

  So filled and so becoming25. In pure white robes,

  Like very sanctity26, she did approach

  My cabin where I lay, thrice bowed before me,

  And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes

  Became two spouts; the fury29 spent, anon

  Did this break from her: 'Good Antigonus,

  Since fate, against thy better disposition,

  Hath made thy person for the thrower-out

  Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,

  Places remote enough are in Bohemia.

  There weep and leave it crying. And, for35 the babe

  Is counted lost forever, Perdita36,

  I prithee call't. For this ungentle37 business

  Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see

  Thy wife Paulina more.' And so, with shrieks39

  She melted into air. Affrighted much,

  I did in time collect myself and thought

  This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys42,

  Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,

  I will be squared44 by this. I do believe

  Hermione hath suffered death, and that

  Apollo would, this being indeed the issue

  Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid,

  Either for life or death, upon the earth

  Of its right father. Blossom, speed49 thee well.

  Lays down the baby

  There lie, and there thy character50: there these,

  Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty,

  And still rest thine51. The storm begins. Poor wretch,

  Thunder

  That for thy mother's fault53 art thus exposed

  To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot,

  But my heart bleeds. And most accursed am I

  To be by oath enjoined56 to this. Farewell!

  The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have

  A lullaby too rough. I never saw

  The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour59!

  Well may I get aboard. This is the chase60!

  I am gone forever.

  Exit, pursued by a bear

  [Enter a Shepherd]

  SHEPHERD I would there were no age between ten and three-

  and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest, for there

  is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child,

  wronging the ancientry65, stealing, fighting -- Hark you now!

  Would any but these boiled-brains66 of nineteen and two-and-twenty

  hunt this67 weather? They have scared away two of my

  best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the

  master. If anywhere I have them, 'tis by the seaside,

  browsing of70 ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will. What have we here?

  Mercy on's, a bairn71? A very pretty bairn!

  Sees the baby

  A boy or a child72, I wonder? A pretty one, a very pretty one.

  Sure, some scape73. Though I am not bookish, yet I can read

  waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work,

  some trunk-work, some behind-door-work74: they were

  warmer76 that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it

  up for pity -- yet I'll tarry77 till my son come. He hallooed but

  even now. Whoa, ho, hoa!

  Enter Clown78

  CLOWN Hilloa, loa!

  SHEPHERD What? Art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on80

  when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest81

  thou, man?

  CLOWN I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! But

  I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky: betwixt the

  firmament85 and it you cannot thrust a bodkin point.

  SHEPHER
D Why, boy, how is it?

  CLOWN I would you did but see how it chafes87, how it rages,

  how it takes up88 the shore! But that's not to the point. O, the

  most piteous cry of the poor souls! Sometimes to see 'em,

  and not to see 'em. Now the ship boring90 the moon with her

  main-mast, and anon91 swallowed with yeast and froth, as

  you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead92. And then for the land-service,

  to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone. How

  he cried to me for help and said his name was Antigonus, a

  nobleman. But to make an end of the ship95, to see how the sea

  flap-dragoned96 it. But first, how the poor souls roared, and

  the sea mocked them. And how the poor gentleman roared

  and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea

  or weather.

  SHEPHERD Name of mercy, when was this, boy?

  CLOWN Now, now. I have not winked101 since I saw these

  sights. The men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear

  half dined on the gentleman. He's at it now.

  SHEPHERD Would I had been by104, to have helped the old man!

  CLOWN I would you had been by the ship side, to have

  helped her; there your charity would have lacked footing106.

  SHEPHERD Heavy107 matters, heavy matters! But look thee here,

  boy. Now bless thyself. Thou met'st108 with things dying, I with

  things newborn. Here's a sight for thee: look thee, a bearing-cloth109

  for a squire's110 child. Look thee here. Take up, take up,

  boy. Open't. So, let's see -- it was told me I should be rich by

  the fairies -- this is some changeling112. Open't. What's within,

  boy?

  CLOWN You're a made old man. If the sins of

  Opens the box

  your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live115. Gold, all gold!

  SHEPHERD This is fairy gold116, boy, and 'twill prove so. Up with't,

  keep it close117. Home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy,

  and to be so still118 requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep

  go. Come, good boy, the next way home.

  CLOWN Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if

  the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much he hath

  eaten. They are never curst122 but when they are hungry. If

  there be any of him left, I'll bury it.

  SHEPHERD That's a good deed. If thou mayst discern by that

  which is left of him what125 he is, fetch me to th'sight of him.

  CLOWN Marry126, will I. And you shall help to put him

  i'th'ground.

  SHEPHERD 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't.

  Exeunt

  Act 4 Scene 1 running scene 8

  Location: the theater

  * * *

  Enter Time, the Chorus

  TIME I, that please some, try1 all, both joy and terror

  Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds2 error,

  Now take upon me, in the name of Time,

  To use my wings4. Impute it not a crime

  To me or my swift passage, that I slide

  O'er sixteen years and leave the growth untried6

  Of that wide gap, since it is in my power

  To o'erthrow law and in one self-born8 hour

  To plant and o'erwhelm9 custom. Let me pass

  The same I am, ere ancient'st order was

  Or what is now received10. I witness11 to

  The times that brought them12 in, so shall I do

  To th'freshest things now reigning and make stale

  The glistering of this present13, as my tale

  Now seems to it15. Your patience this allowing,

  I turn my glass16 and give my scene such growing

  As17 you had slept between. Leontes leaving --

  Th'effects of his fond jealousies so grieving

  That he shuts up himself -- imagine me,

  Gentle20 spectators, that I now may be

  In fair Bohemia, and remember well,

  I mentioned a son o'th'king's22, which Florizel

  I now name to you, and with speed so pace23

  To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace

  Equal with wond'ring25. What of her ensues

  I list not prophesy26, but let Time's news

  Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter

  And what to her adheres28, which follows after,

  Is th'argument29 of Time. Of this allow,

  If ever you have spent time worse ere now.

  If never, yet31 that Time himself doth say

  He wishes earnestly you never may.

  Exit

  Act 4 Scene 2 running scene 9

  Location: Bohemia (court)

  * * *

  Enter Polixenes and Camillo

  POLIXENES I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate1:

  'Tis a sickness denying2 thee anything, a death to grant this.

  CAMILLO It is fifteen3 years since I saw my country. Though I

  have for the most part been aired4 abroad, I desire to lay my

  bones there. Besides, the penitent king, my master, hath sent

  for me, to whose feeling6 sorrows I might be some allay, or I

  o'erween7 to think so, which is another spur to my departure.

  POLIXENES As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of

  thy services by leaving me now: the need I have of thee thine

  own goodness hath made: better not to have had thee than

  thus to want11 thee. Thou, having made me businesses which

  none without thee can sufficiently manage, must either stay

  to execute them thyself or take away with thee the very

  services thou hast done, which if I have not enough

  considered15, as too much I cannot, to be more thankful to

  thee shall be my study, and my profit therein the heaping

  friendships16. Of that fatal17 country, Sicilia, prithee speak

  no more, whose very naming punishes me with the

  remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and

  reconciled20 king, my brother, whose loss of his most precious

  queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented. Say

  to me, when sawest thou the Prince Florizel, my son? Kings

  are no less unhappy23, their issue not being gracious, than

  they are in losing them when they have approved24 their

  virtues.

  CAMILLO Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince. What his

  happier affairs may be, are to me unknown. But I have

  missingly noted28, he is of late much retired from court and is

  less frequent to his princely exercises29 than formerly he hath

  appeared.

  POLIXENES I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some

  care -- so far that I have eyes under my service32 which look

  upon his removedness33, from whom I have this intelligence,

  that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd:

  a man, they say, that from very nothing, and beyond

  the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an

  unspeakable estate37.

  CAMILLO I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a

  daughter of most rare note39. The report of her is extended

  more than can be thought to begin40 from such a cottage.

  POLIXENES That's likewise part of my intelligence: but, I fear,

  the angle42 that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany

  us to the place where we will, not appearing what we are,

  have some question44 with the shepherd, from whose

  simplicity I think it not uneasy45 to get the cause of my son's

  resort thither. Prithee be
my present46 partner in this business,

  and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.

  CAMILLO I willingly obey your command.

  POLIXENES My best Camillo, we must disguise ourselves.

  Exeunt

  Act 4 Scene 3 running scene 10

  Location: Bohemia (rural)

  * * *

  Enter Autolycus singing

  AUTOLYCUS When daffodils begin to peer1,

  With hey, the doxy2 over the dale,

  Why then comes in the sweet o'3 the year,

  For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale4.

  The white sheet bleaching on the hedge5,

  With hey, the sweet birds, O, how they sing!

  Doth set my pugging tooth an edge7.

  For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

  The lark, that tirra-lirra chants,

  With hey, the thrush and the jay,

  Are summer songs for me and my aunts11,

  While we lie tumbling12 in the hay.

  I have served Prince Florizel and in my time wore three-pile13,

  but now I am out of service14.

  But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?

  The pale moon shines by night,

  And when I wander here and there,

  I then do most go right.

  If tinkers19 may have leave to live,

  And bear the sow-skin budget20,

  Then my account I well may give,

  And in the stocks avouch it22.

  My traffic23 is sheets. When the kite builds, look to lesser linen.

  My father named me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered

  under24 Mercury25, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered

  trifles. With die26 and drab I purchased this caparison, and my

  revenue is the silly cheat27. Gallows and knock are too

  powerful on the highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to

  me. For the life to come29, I sleep out the thought of it. A prize,

  a prize!

  He sees the Clown approaching

  Enter Clown

  CLOWN Let me see, every 'leven wether tods31, every tod yields

  pound and odd32 shilling. Fifteen hundred shorn, what comes

  the wool to?

  AUTOLYCUS If the springe34 hold, the cock's mine.

  Aside

  CLOWN I cannot do't without counters35. Let me see, what am

  I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast36? Three pound of sugar,

  five pound of currants, rice -- what will this sister of mine

  do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the

  feast, and she lays it on39. She hath made me four-and-twenty

  nosegays40 for the shearers -- three-man-song-men all, and

  very good ones -- but they are most of them means41 and

  basses; but one puritan42 amongst them, and he sings psalms

  to hornpipes43. I must have saffron to colour the warden pies.

  Mace44, dates? -- none, that's out of my note. Nutmegs,

  seven; a race45 or two of ginger, but that I may beg. Four

  pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o'th'sun46.

  AUTOLYCUS O, that ever I was born!

  Grovels on

  CLOWN I'th'name of me48.