Enter PAULINA, a GENTLEMAN, and ATTENDANTS

PAULINA. The keeper of the prison- call to him;

Let him have knowledge who I am. Exit GENTLEMAN

Good lady!

No court in Europe is too good for thee;

What dost thou then in prison?

Re-enter GENTLEMAN with the GAOLER

Now, good sir,

You know me, do you not?

GAOLER. For a worthy lady,

And one who much I honour.

PAULINA. Pray you, then,

Conduct me to the Queen.

GAOLER. I may not, madam;

To the contrary I have express commandment.

PAULINA. Here's ado, to lock up honesty and honour from

Th' access of gentle visitors! Is't lawful, pray you,

To see her women- any of them? Emilia?

GAOLER. So please you, madam,

To put apart these your attendants,

Shall bring Emilia forth.

PAULINA. I pray now, call her.

Withdraw yourselves. Exeunt ATTENDANTS

GAOLER. And, madam,

I must be present at your conference.

PAULINA. Well, be't so, prithee. Exit GAOLER

Here's such ado to make no stain a stain

As passes colouring.

Re-enter GAOLER, with EMILIA

Dear gentlewoman,

How fares our gracious lady?

EMILIA. As well as one so great and so forlorn

May hold together. On her frights and griefs,

Which never tender lady hath borne greater,

She is, something before her time, deliver'd.

PAULINA. A boy?

EMILIA. A daughter, and a goodly babe,

Lusty, and like to live. The Queen receives

Much comfort in't; says 'My poor prisoner,

I am as innocent as you.'

PAULINA. I dare be sworn.

These dangerous unsafe lunes i' th' King, beshrew them!

He must be told on't, and he shall. The office

Becomes a woman best; I'll take't upon me;

If I prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister,

And never to my red-look'd anger be

The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia,

Commend my best obedience to the Queen;

If she dares trust me with her little babe,

I'll show't the King, and undertake to be

Her advocate to th' loud'st. We do not know

How he may soften at the sight o' th' child:

The silence often of pure innocence

Persuades when speaking fails.

EMILIA. Most worthy madam,

Your honour and your goodness is so evident

That your free undertaking cannot miss

A thriving issue; there is no lady living

So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship

To visit the next room, I'll presently

Acquaint the Queen of your most noble offer

Who but to-day hammer'd of this design,

But durst not tempt a minister of honour,

Lest she should be denied.

PAULINA. Tell her, Emilia,

I'll use that tongue I have; if wit flow from't

As boldness from my bosom, let't not be doubted

I shall do good.

EMILIA. Now be you blest for it!

I'll to the Queen. Please you come something nearer.

GAOLER. Madam, if't please the Queen to send the babe,

I know not what I shall incur to pass it,

Having no warrant.

PAULINA. You need not fear it, sir.

This child was prisoner to the womb, and is

By law and process of great Nature thence

Freed and enfranchis'd- not a party to

The anger of the King, nor guilty of,

If any be, the trespass of the Queen.

GAOLER. I do believe it.

PAULINA. Do not you fear. Upon mine honour, I

Will stand betwixt you and danger. Exeunt

SCENE III. Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES

Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, LORDS, and SERVANTS

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' th' cause,

She, th' 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 SERVANT. My lord?

LEONTES. How does the boy?

FIRST SERVANT. 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 SERVANT] 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 pow'r.

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 SERVANT. 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 medicinal 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.

LEONTES. How!

Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus,

I charg'd thee that she should not come about me;

I knew she would.

ANTIGONUS. I told her so, my lord,

On your displeasure's peril, and on mine,

She should not visit you.

LEONTES. What, canst not rule her?

PAULINA. From all dishonesty he can: in this,

Unless he take the course that you have done-

Commit me for committing honour- trust it,

He shall not rule me.

ANTIGONUS. La you now, you hear!

When she will take the rein, I let her run;

But she'll not stumble.

PAULINA. Good my liege, I come-

And I beseech you hear me, who professes

Myself your loyal servant, your physician,

Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dares

Less appear so, in comforting your evils,

Than such as most seem yours- I say I come

From your good Queen.

LEONTES. Good Queen!

PAULINA. Good Queen, my lord, good Queen- I say good Queen;

And would by combat make her good, so were I

A man, the worst about you.

LEONTES. Force her hence.

PAULINA. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes

First hand me. On mine own accord I'll off;

But first I'll do my errand. The good Queen,

For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter;

Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing.

[Laying down the child]

LEONTES. Out!

A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door!

A most intelligencing bawd!

PAULINA. Not so.

I am as ignorant in that as you

In so entitling me; and no less honest

Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant,

As this world goes, to pass for honest.

LEONTES. Traitors!

Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard.

[To ANTIGONUS] Thou dotard, thou art woman-tir'd, unroosted

By thy Dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard;

Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone.

PAULINA. For ever

Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou

Tak'st up the Princess by that forced baseness

Which he has put upon't!

LEONTES. He dreads his wife.

PAULINA. So I would you did; then 'twere past all doubt

You'd call your children yours.

LEONTES. A nest of traitors!

ANTIGONUS. I am none, by this good light.

PAULINA. Nor I; nor any

But one that's here; and that's himself; for he

The sacred honour of himself, his Queen's,

His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander,

Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not-

For, as the case now stands, it is a curse

He cannot be compell'd to 't- once remove

The root of his opinion, which is rotten

As ever oak or stone was sound.

LEONTES. A callat

Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband,

And now baits me! This brat is none of mine;

It is the issue of Polixenes.

Hence with it, and together with the dam

Commit them to the fire.

PAULINA. It is yours.

And, might we lay th' old proverb to your charge,

So like you 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords,

Although the print be little, the whole matter

And copy of the father- eye, nose, lip,

The trick of's frown, his forehead; nay, the valley,

The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek; his smiles;

The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger.

And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it

So like to him that got it, if thou hast

The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours

No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does,

Her children not her husband's!

LEONTES. A gross hag!

And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd

That wilt not stay her tongue.

ANTIGONUS. Hang all the husbands

That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself

Hardly one subject.

LEONTES. Once more, take her hence.

PAULINA. A most unworthy and unnatural lord

Can do no more.

LEONTES. I'll ha' thee burnt.

PAULINA. I care not.

It is an heretic that makes the fire,

Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant

But this most cruel usage of your Queen-

Not able to produce more accusation

Than your own weak-hing'd fancy- something savours

Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,

Yea, scandalous to the world.

LEONTES. On your allegiance,

Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant,

Where were her life? She durst not call me so,

If she did know me one. Away with her!

PAULINA. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone.

Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours. Jove send her

A better guiding spirit! What needs these hands?

You that are thus so tender o'er his follies

Will never do him good, not one of you.

So, so. Farewell; we are gone. Exit

LEONTES. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.

My child! Away with't. Even thou, that hast

A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence,

And see it instantly consum'd with fire;

Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight.

Within this hour bring me word 'tis done,

And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life,

With that thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse,

And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;

The bastard brains with these my proper hands

Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;

For thou set'st on thy wife.

ANTIGONUS. I did not, sir.

These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,

Can clear me in't.

LORDS. We can. My royal liege,

He is not guilty of her coming hither.

LEONTES. You're liars all.

FIRST LORD. Beseech your Highness, give us better credit.

We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech

So to esteem of us; and on our knees we beg,

As recompense of our dear services

Past and to come, that you do change this purpose,

Which being so horrible, so bloody, must

Lead on to some foul issue. We all kneel.

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?

ANTIGONUS. Anything, my lord,

That my ability may undergo,

And nobleness impose. At least, thus much:

I'll pawn the little blood which I have left

To save the innocent- anything possible.

LEONTES. It shall be possible. Swear by this sword

Thou wilt perform my bidding.

ANTIGONUS. I will, my lord.

LEONTES. Mark, and perform it- seest thou? For the fail

Of any point in't shall not only be

Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife,

Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee,

As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry

This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it

To some remote and desert place, quite out

Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it,

Without more mercy, to it own protection

And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune

It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,

On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture,

That thou commend it strangely to some place

Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.

ANTIGONUS. I swear to do this, though a present death

Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe.

Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens

To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say,

Casting their savageness aside, have done

Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous

In more than this deed does require! And blessing

Against this cruelty fight on thy side,

Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! Exit with the child

LEONTES. No, I'll not rear

Another's issue.

Enter a SERVANT

SERVANT. Please your Highness, posts

From those you sent to th' oracle are come

An hour since. Cleomenes and Dion,

Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed,

Hasting to th' court.

FIRST LORD. So please you, sir, their speed

Hath been beyond account.

LEONTES. Twenty-three days

They have been absent; 'tis good speed; foretells

The great Apollo suddenly will have

The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords;

Summon a session, that we may arraign

Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath

Been publicly accus'd, so shall she have

A just and open trial. While she lives,

My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me;

And think upon my bidding. Exeunt

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ACT III. SCENE I. Sicilia. On the road to the Capital

Enter CLEOMENES and DION

CLEOMENES. The climate's delicate, the air most sweet,

Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing

The common praise it bears.

DION. I shall report,

For most it caught me, the celestial habits-

Methinks I so should term them- and the reverence

Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!

How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly,

It was i' th' off'ring!

CLEOMENES. But of all, the burst

And the ear-deaf'ning voice o' th' oracle,

Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd my sense

That I was nothing.

DION. If th' event o' th' journey

Prove as successful to the Queen- O, be't so!-

As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy,

The time is worth the use on't.

CLEOMENES. Great Apollo

Turn all to th' best! These proclamations,

So forcing faults upon Hermione,

I little like.

DION. The violent carriage of it

Will clear or end the business. When the oracle-

Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up-

Shall the contents discover, something rare

Even then will rush to knowledge. Go; fresh horses.

And gracious be the issue! Exeunt

SCENE II. Sicilia. A court of justice

Enter LEONTES, LORDS, and OFFICERS

LEONTES. This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce,

Even pushes 'gainst our heart- the party tried,

The daughter of a king, our wife, and one

Of us too much belov'd. Let us be clear'd

Of being tyrannous, since we so openly

Proceed in justice, which shall have due course,

Even to the guilt or the purgation.

Produce the prisoner.

OFFICER. It is his Highness' pleasure that the Queen

Appear in person here in court.

Enter HERMIONE, as to her trial, PAULINA, and LADIES

Silence!

LEONTES. Read the indictment.

OFFICER. [Reads] 'Hermione, Queen to the worthy Leontes, King of

Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in

committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia; and

conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign

lord the King, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by

circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the

faith and allegiance of true subject, didst counsel and aid them,

for their better safety, to fly away by night.'

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 receiv'd. But thus- if pow'rs 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 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 devis'd

And play'd to take spectators; for behold me-

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

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,

How merited to be so; since he came,

With what encounter so uncurrent I

Have strain'd t' appear thus; if one jot beyond

The bound of honour, or in act or will

That way inclining, hard'ned be the hearts

Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin

Cry fie upon my grave!

LEONTES. I ne'er heard yet

That any of these bolder vices wanted

Less impudence to gainsay what they did

Than to perform it first.

HERMIONE. That's true enough;

Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

LEONTES. You will not own it.

HERMIONE. More than mistress of

Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not

At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,

With whom I am accus'd, I do confess

I lov'd him as in honour he requir'd;

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

Both disobedience and ingratitude

To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke,

Ever 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

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.

LEONTES. You knew of his departure, as you know

What you have underta'en to do in's absence.

HERMIONE. Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not.

My life stands in the level of your dreams,

Which I'll lay down.

LEONTES. Your actions are my dreams.

You had a bastard by Polixenes,

And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame-

Those of your fact are so- so past all truth;

Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as

Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,

No father owning it- which is indeed

More criminal in thee than it- so thou

Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage

Look for no less than death.

HERMIONE. 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 barr'd, like one infectious; my third comfort,

Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast-

The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth-

Hal'd out to murder; myself on every post

Proclaim'd 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 honour

Which I would free- if I shall be condemn'd

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!

FIRST LORD. This your request

Is altogether just. Therefore, bring forth,

And in Apollo's name, his oracle.

Exeunt certain OFFICERS

HERMIONE. The Emperor of Russia was my father;

O that he were alive, and here beholding

His daughter's trial! that he did but see

The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes

Of pity, not revenge!

Re-enter OFFICERS, with CLEOMENES and DION

OFFICER. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice

That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have

Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought

This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd

Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then

You have not dar'd to break the holy seal

Nor read the secrets in't.

CLEOMENES, DION. All this we swear.

LEONTES. Break up the seals and read.

OFFICER. [Reads] 'Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless;

Camillo a true subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent

babe truly begotten; and the King shall live without an heir, if

that which is lost be not found.'

LORDS. Now blessed be the great Apollo!

HERMIONE. Praised!

LEONTES. Hast thou read truth?

OFFICER. Ay, my lord; even so

As it is here set down.

LEONTES. There is no truth at all i' th' oracle.

The sessions shall proceed. This is mere falsehood.

Enter a SERVANT

SERVANT. My lord the King, the King!

LEONTES. What is the business?

SERVANT. O sir, I shall be hated to report it:

The Prince your son, with mere conceit and fear

Of the Queen's speed, is gone.

LEONTES. How! Gone?

SERVANT. Is dead.

LEONTES. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves

Do strike at my injustice. [HERMIONE swoons]

How now, there!

PAULINA. This news is mortal to the Queen. Look down

And see what death is doing.

LEONTES. Take her hence.

Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover.

I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion.

Beseech you tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life.

Exeunt PAULINA and LADIES with HERMIONE

Apollo, pardon

My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle.

I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,

New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo-

Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy.

For, being transported by my jealousies

To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose

Camillo for the minister to poison

My friend Polixenes; which had been done

But that the good mind of Camillo tardied

My swift command, though I with death and with

Reward did threaten and encourage him,

Not doing it and being done. He, most humane

And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest

Unclasp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here,

Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard

Of all incertainties himself commended,

No richer than his honour. How he glisters

Thorough my rust! And how his piety

Does my deeds make the blacker!

Re-enter PAULINA

PAULINA. Woe the while!

O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,

Break too!

FIRST LORD. What fit is this, good lady?

PAULINA. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?

What wheels, racks, fires? what flaying, boiling

In leads or oils? What old or newer torture

Must I receive, whose every word deserves

To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny

Together working with thy jealousies,

Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle

For girls of nine- O, think what they have done,

And then run mad indeed, stark mad; for all

Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.

That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing;

That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,

And damnable ingrateful. Nor was't much

Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,

To have him kill a king- poor trespasses,

More monstrous standing by; whereof I reckon

The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter

To be or none or little, though a devil

Would have shed water out of fire ere done't;

Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death

Of the young Prince, whose honourable thoughts-

Thoughts high for one so tender- cleft the heart

That could conceive a gross and foolish sire

Blemish'd his gracious dam. This is not, no,

Laid to thy answer; but the last- O lords,

When I have said, cry 'Woe!'- the Queen, the Queen,

The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead; and vengeance

For't not dropp'd down yet.

FIRST LORD. The higher pow'rs 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 lustre 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 stir; therefore betake thee

To nothing but despair. A thousand knees

Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,

Upon a barren mountain, and still winter

In storm perpetual, could not move the gods

To look that way thou wert.

LEONTES. Go on, go on.

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd

All tongues to talk their bitt'rest.

FIRST LORD. Say no more;

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault

I' th' boldness of your speech.

PAULINA. I am sorry for't.

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

I do repent. Alas, I have show'd too much

The rashness of a woman! He is touch'd

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

Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction

At my petition; I beseech you, rather

Let me be punish'd that have minded 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 remember you of my own lord,

Who is lost too. Take your patience to you,

And I'll say nothing.

LEONTES. Thou didst speak but well

When most the truth; which I receive much better

Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me

To the dead bodies of my queen and son.

One grave shall be for both. Upon them 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 exercise, so long

I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me

To these sorrows. Exeunt

SCENE III. Bohemia. The sea-coast

Enter ANTIGONUS with the CHILD, and a MARINER

ANTIGONUS. Thou art perfect then our ship hath touch'd upon

The deserts of Bohemia?

MARINER. Ay, my lord, and fear

We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly

And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,

The heavens with that we have in hand are angry

And frown upon 's.

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

Look to thy bark. 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 loud 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 believ'd, the spirits o' th' dead

May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother

Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream

So like a waking. To me comes a creature,

Sometimes her head on one side some another-

I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,

So fill'd and so becoming; in pure white robes,

Like very sanctity, she did approach

My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me;

And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes

Became two spouts; the fury 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, for the babe

Is counted lost for ever, Perdita

I prithee call't. For this ungentle business,

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

Thy wife Paulina more.' so, with shrieks,

She melted into air. Affrighted much,

I did in time collect myself, and thought

This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys;

Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,

I will be squar'd by this. I do believe

Hermione hath suffer'd 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, speed thee well!

[Laying down the child]

There lie, and there thy character; there these

[Laying down a bundle]

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

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

That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd

To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot,

But my heart bleeds; and most accurs'd am I

To be by oath enjoin'd 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. [Noise of hunt within] A savage

clamour!

Well may I get aboard! This is the chase;

I am gone for ever. Exit, pursued by a bear

Enter an old 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 ancientry, stealing, fighting- [Horns] Hark you now! Would any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two and twenty hunt this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master. If any where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! What have we here? [Taking up the child] Mercy on's, a barne! A very pretty barne. A boy or a child, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one- sure, some scape. 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-work; they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity; yet I'll tarry till my son come; he halloo'd but even now. Whoa-ho-hoa!

Enter CLOWN

CLOWN. Hilloa, loa!

SHEPHERD. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when

thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'st 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

firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

SHEPHERD. Why, boy, how is it?

CLOWN. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it

takes up 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 boring the moon with her mainmast, and anon

swallowed with yeast and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a

hogshead. 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 ship-

to see how the sea flap-dragon'd it; but first, how the poor

souls roared, and the sea mock'd them; and how the poor gentleman

roared, and the bear mock'd him, both roaring louder than the sea

or weather.

SHEPHERD. Name of mercy, when was this, boy?

CLOWN. Now, now; I have not wink'd since I saw these sights; the

men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half din'd on the

gentleman; he's at it now.

SHEPHERD. Would I had been by to have help'd the old man!

CLOWN. I would you had been by the ship-side, to have help'd her;

there your charity would have lack'd footing.

SHEPHERD. Heavy matters, heavy matters! But look thee here, boy.

Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying, I with things

new-born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for

a squire's 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 changeling. Open't. What's within, boy?

CLOWN. You're a made old man; if the sins of your youth are

forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!

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

keep it close. Home, home, the next way! We are lucky, boy; and

to be so still 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 curst but when they are hungry. If there be any of him

left, I'll bury it.

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

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

CLOWN. Marry, 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

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ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter TIME, the CHORUS

TIME. I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror

Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error,

Now take upon me, in the name of Time,

To use my wings. Impute it not a crime

To me or my swift passage that I slide

O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried

Of that wide gap, since it is in my pow'r

To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour

To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass

The same I am, ere ancient'st order was

Or what is now receiv'd. I witness to

The times that brought them in; so shall I do

To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stale

The glistering of this present, as my tale

Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,

I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing

As you had slept between. Leontes leaving-

Th' effects of his fond jealousies so grieving

That he shuts up himself- imagine me,

Gentle spectators, that I now may be

In fair Bohemia; and remember well

I mention'd a son o' th' King's, which Florizel

I now name to you; and with speed so pace

To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace

Equal with wond'ring. What of her ensues

I list not prophesy; but let Time's news

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

And what to her adheres, which follows after,

Is th' argument of Time. Of this allow,

If ever you have spent time worse ere now;

If never, yet that Time himself doth say

He wishes earnestly you never may. Exit

SCENE II. Bohemia. The palace of POLIXENES

Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO

POLIXENES. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: 'tis

a sickness denying thee anything; a death to grant this.

CAMILLO. It is fifteen years since I saw my country; though I have

for the most part been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones

there. Besides, the penitent King, my master, hath sent for me;

to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to

think so, which is another spur to my departure.

POLIXENES. As thou lov'st 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 want

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 considered- as too much I cannot- to be more

thankful to thee shall be my study; and my profit therein the

heaping friendships. Of that fatal country Sicilia, prithee,

speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance

of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled king, my

brother; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are

even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the

Prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue

not being gracious, than they are in losing them when they have

approved 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

noted he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent

to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appeared.

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

so far that I have eyes under my service which look upon his

removedness; 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 estate.

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

most rare note. The report of her is extended more than can be

thought to begin from such a cottage.

POLIXENES. That's likewise part of my intelligence; but, I fear, the

angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the

place; where we will, not appearing what we are, have some

question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not

uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Prithee be my

present 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

SCENE III. Bohemia. A road near the SHEPHERD'S cottage

Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing

When daffodils begin to peer,

With heigh! the doxy over the dale,

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

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

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,

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

Doth set my pugging tooth on edge,

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

The lark, that tirra-lirra chants,

With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay,

Are summer songs for me and my aunts,

While we lie tumbling in the hay.

I have serv'd Prince Florizel, and in my time wore three-pile;

but now I am out of service.

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 tinkers may have leave to live,

And bear the sow-skin budget,

Then my account I well may give

And in the stocks avouch it.

My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father nam'd me Autolycus; who, being, I as am, litter'd under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I purchas'd this caparison; and my revenue is the silly-cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway; beating and hanging are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. A prize! a prize!

Enter CLOWN

CLOWN. Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields pound

and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wool to?

AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] If the springe hold, the cock's mine.

CLOWN. I cannot do 't without counters. Let me see: what am I to

buy for our sheep-shearing feast? 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 on. She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the

shearers- three-man song-men all, and very good ones; but they

are most of them means and bases; but one Puritan amongst them,

and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have saffron to colour

the warden pies; mace; dates- none, that's out of my note;

nutmegs, seven; race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four

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

AUTOLYCUS. [Grovelling on the ground] O that ever I was born!

CLOWN. I' th' name of me!

AUTOLYCUS. O, help me, help me! Pluck but off these rags; and then,

death, death!

CLOWN. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on

thee, rather than have these off.

AUTOLYCUS. O sir, the loathsomeness of them offend me more than the

stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions.

CLOWN. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great

matter.

AUTOLYCUS. I am robb'd, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en

from me, and these detestable things put upon me.

CLOWN. What, by a horseman or a footman?

AUTOLYCUS. A footman, sweet sir, a footman.

CLOWN. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments he has left

with thee; if this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot

service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee. Come, lend me thy

hand. [Helping him up]

AUTOLYCUS. O, good sir, tenderly, O!

CLOWN. Alas, poor soul!

AUTOLYCUS. O, good sir, softly, good sir; I fear, sir, my shoulder

blade is out.

CLOWN. How now! Canst stand?

AUTOLYCUS. Softly, dear sir [Picks his pocket]; good sir, softly.

You ha' done me a charitable office.

CLOWN. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

AUTOLYCUS. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir. I have a

kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was

going; I shall there have money or anything I want. Offer me no

money, I pray you; that kills my heart.

CLOWN. What manner of fellow was he that robb'd you?

AUTOLYCUS. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with

troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the Prince. I cannot

tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was

certainly whipt out of the court.

CLOWN. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipt out of the

court. They cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no

more but abide.

AUTOLYCUS. Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well; he hath

been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then

he compass'd a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's

wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having

flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue.

Some call him Autolycus.

CLOWN. Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig! He haunts wakes,

fairs, and bear-baitings.

AUTOLYCUS. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that put

me into this apparel.

CLOWN. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but

look'd big and spit at him, he'd have run.

AUTOLYCUS. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter; I am false

of heart that way, and that he knew, I warrant him.

CLOWN. How do you now?

AUTOLYCUS. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and walk.

I will even take my leave of you and pace softly towards my

kinsman's.

CLOWN. Shall I bring thee on the way?

AUTOLYCUS. No, good-fac'd sir; no, sweet sir.

CLOWN. Then fare thee well. I must go buy spices for our

sheep-shearing.

AUTOLYCUS. Prosper you, sweet sir! Exit CLOWN

Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with

you at your sheep-shearing too. If I make not this cheat bring

out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unroll'd,

and my name put in the book of virtue!

[Sings]

Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,

And merrily hent the stile-a;

A merry heart goes all the day,

Your sad tires in a mile-a. Exit