Hermione then advance.
Pol.
Nine changes of the wat'ry star have been
The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne
-- 13 --
Without a burden: time as long again
Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks;
And yet we should, for perpetuity,
Go hence in debt: And therefore, like a cypher,
Yet standing in rich place, I multiply,
With one we-thank-you, many thousands more
That go before it.
Leon.
Stay your thanks a-while;
And pay them when you part.
Pol.
Sir, that's to-morrow.
I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance,
Or breed upon our absence: Besides, I have stay'd
To tire your royalty.
Leon.
We are tougher, brother,
Than you can put us to't.
Pol.
No longer stay.
Leon.
One seven-night longer.
Pol.
Very sooth, to-morrow.
Leon.
We'll part the time between's then: and in that
I'll no gain-saying.
Pol.
Press me not, 'beseech you, so;
There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'the world,
So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now,
Were there necessity in your request, although
'Twere needful I deny'd it
Leon.
Tongue-ty'd, our queen? speak you.
Her.
I had thought, sir, to have held my peace, until
You had drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,
Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sure,
All in Bithynia's well: this satisfaction
The by-gone day proclaim'd:4 note say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.
Leon.
Well said, Hermione.
Her.
To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong:
But let him say so then, and let him go;
But let him swear so, and he shall not stay.
-- 14 --
Yet of your royal presence [To Polixenes.] I'll adventure
The borrow of a week. When at Bithynia
You take my lord, I'll give him my commission,
To let him there a month, behind the gest5 note
Prefix'd for his parting: yet, good-deed,6 note Leontes,
I love thee not a jar7 note o'the clock behind
What lady she her lord.—
[Enter Mamillius and Nurse,—Leontes goes
up the stage to meet the Prince, his son.]
You'll stay?
Pol.
No, Madam.
Her.
Nay, but you will?
Pol.
I may not, verily.
Her.
Verily!
You put me off with limber8 note vows: But I,
Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths,
Should yet say, Sir, no going. Verily,
You shall not go; a lady's verily is
As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet?
Force me to keep you as a prisoner,
Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees,
When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?
My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread verily,
One of them you shall be.
Pol.
Your guest then, madam:
To be your prisoner, should import offending;
Which is for me less easy to commit,
Than you to punish.
Her.
Not your gaoler then,
But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you
Of my lord's tricks, and yours, when you were boys;
You were pretty lordings9 note then.
-- 15 --
Pol.
We were, fair queen,
Two lads, that thought there was no more behind,
But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
And to be boy eternal.
Her.
Was not my lord the verier wag o'the two?
Pol.
We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i'the sun,
And bleat the one at the other: what we chang'd,
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd
That any did: Had we pursued that life,
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven
Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd,
Hereditary ours.10 note
Her.
By this we gather,
You have tripp'd since.
Pol.
O, my most sacred lady,
Temptations have since then been born to us: for
In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;
Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young play-fellow.
Her.
Grace to boot!
Of this make no conclusion; lest you say,
Your queen and I are devils: Yet go on;
The offences we have made you do, we'll answer.
Leon.
Is he won yet?
[Leontes advances.
Her.
He'll stay, my lord.
Leon.
At my request, he would not.
Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st
To better purpose.
Her.
Never?
Leon.
Never, but once.
Her.
What? have I twice said well? when was't before?
I pr'ythee, tell me: One good deed dying tongueless,
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that.
Our praises are our wages. But to the goal;—10A note
My last good deed was to entreat his stay;
What was my first? it has an elder sister,
Or I mistake you;
-- 16 --
But once before I spoke to the purpose: When?
Nay, let me have't; I long.
Leon.
Why that was when
Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,
And clap11 note
thyself my love; then didst thou utter,
I am yours for ever.
Her.
Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice:
The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;
The other, for some while a friend.
[Giving her hand to Polixenes.
Leon.
Too hot, too hot:
[Aside.
To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordis on me:—my heart dances;
But not for joy,—not joy.—This entertainment
May a free face put on; derive a liberty
From heartiness, from bounty's fertile bosom,
And well become the agent: it may, I grant:
But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers,
As now they are; and making practis'd smiles,
As in a looking glass;—and then to sigh, as 'twere
The mort o'the deer;12 note O, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not.—Mamillius,
Art thou my boy?
Mam.
Ay, my good lord.
Leon.
I'feck's?13 note
Why, that's my bawcock.14 note What, hast smutch'd thy nose?—
They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
We must be neat,15 note not neat, but cleanly, captain:
-- 17 --
And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,
Are all call'd, neat.—Still virginalling16 note
[Observing Polixenes and Hermione.
Upon his palm?—How now, you wanton calf?
Art thou my calf?
Mam.
Yes, if you will, my lord.
Leon.
Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have,17 note
To be full like me:18 note yet, they say, we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will say any thing: But were they false
As wind, as waters; yet were it true
To say, this boy were like me.—Come, sir page,
Look on me with your welkin eye:19 note Sweet villain!
Most dear'st! my collop!20 note
—Can thy dam?—may't be?
Pol.
What means Sicilia?
Her.
He something seems unsettled.
Pol.
How, my lord?
What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?
Her.
You look,
As if you held a brow of much distraction:
Are you mov'd, my lord?
Leon.
No, in good earnest.
How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Its tenderness: and make itself a pastime
To harder bosoms! [Aside.]—Looking on the lines
Of my boy's face, methought, I did recoil
Twenty-three years; with my dagger muzzled,
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous.
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
-- 18 --
This squash,21 note this gentleman:—Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for money?22 note
Mam.
No, my lord, I'll fight.
Leon.
You will? why, happy man be his dole!—23 note My brother,
Are you so fond of your young prince, as we
Do seem to be of ours?
Pol.
If at home, sir,
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter:
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
He makes a July's day short as December;
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.
Leon.
So stands this squire
Offic'd with me: We two will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver steps.—Hermione,
How thou lov'st us, show in our brother's welcome;
Next to thyself, and my young rover, he's
Apparent to my heart.24 note
Her.
If you would seek us,
We are yours i'the garden: Shall's attend you there?
Leon.
To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found,
Be you beneath the sky:—I am angling now,
Though you perceive me not how I give line.
Go to, go to!
[Aside. Observing Polixenes and Hermione.
How she holds up the neb,25 note the bill to him!
-- 19 --
And arms her with the boldness of a wife
To her allowing26 note husband! Gone already;
[Exeunt Polixenes, Hermione, and Guests.
Inch thick, knee deep; o'er head and ears a fork'd one.27 note
Go, play, boy, play;—thy mother plays, and I
Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue
Will hiss me to my grave; contempt and clamour
Will be my kneel.—Go, play, boy, play;—There have been,
And many a man there is, even at this present,28 note
Now, while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
That little thinks—should all despair
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physick for't there is none:
Many a thousand of us
Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy?
Mam.
I am like you, they say.
Leon.
Why, that's some comfort.—
What! Camillo there?
Cam.
Ay, my good lord.
Leon.
Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.—
[Exeunt Mamillius and Nurse.
Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.
Cam.
You had much ado to make his anchor hold;
When you cast out, it still came home.29 note
Leon.
Didst note it?
Cam.
He would not stay at your petitions; made
His business more material.30 note
-- 20 --
Leon.
Didst perceive it?—
They're here with me already;31 note whispering, rounding,32 note
Sicilia is a so-forth:33 note How came't, Camillo,
That he did stay?
Cam.
At the good queen's entreaty.
Leon.
At the queen's, be't: good, should be pertinent;
But so it is, it is not. Was this taken
By any understanding pate but thine?
For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in
More than the common blocks: Not noted, is't,
But of the finer natures? lower messes,34 note
Perchance, are to this business purblind: say.
Cam.
Business, my lord? I think, most understand
Bithynia stays here longer.
Leon.
Ha?
Cam.
Stays here longer.
Leon.
Ay, but why?
Cam.
To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.
Leon.
Satisfy
The entreaties of your mistress?—satisfy?—
Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well
My chamber-councils; but we have been
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd
In that which seems so.
Cam.
Be it forbid, my lord!
Leon.
To bide upon't;—thou art not honest: or,
If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward;
Which hoxes35 note honesty behind, restraining
From course requir'd: Or else thou must be counted
-- 21 --
A servant, grafted in my serious trust,
And therein negligent; or else a fool,
That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,
And tak'st it all for jest.
Cam.
In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful-negligent,
It was my folly; if industriously
I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty
Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace,
Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
By its own visage; if I then deny it,
'Tis none of mine.
Leon.
Have not you seen, Camillo
(But that's past doubt; you have); or heard,
(For, to a vision so apparent, rumour
Cannot be mute), or thought, (for cogitation
Resides not in that man that does not think it),
My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess
(Or else be impudently negative,
To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought), then say,
And justify it.
Cam.
I would not be a stander-by, to hear
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken. 'Shrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you less
Than this; which to reiterate were sin
As deep as that, though true.
Leon.
Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? Stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty)—
Skulking in corners?—wishing clocks more swift?—
Hours, minutes?—noon, midnight? and all eyes blind
With the pin and web,36 note but theirs, theirs only,
-- 22 --
That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing?
Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing;
The covering sky is nothing; Bithynia nothing;
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,
If this be nothing.
Cam.
Good my lord, be cur'd
Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes,
For 'tis most dangerous.
Leon.
Say, it be; 'tis true.
Cam.
No, no, my lord.
Leon.
It is;
I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee:
Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave;
Or else a hovering temporizer, that
Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,
Inclining to them both. Were my wife's liver
Infected as her life, she would not live
The running of one glass.37 note
Cam.
Who does infect her?
Leon.
Why he that wears her like a medal hanging
About his neck—Bithynia: Who,—if I
Had servants true about me; that bare eyes
To see alike mine honour as their profits, they would do that
Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou
His cup-bearer, who may'st see
Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven,
How I am galled: might'st bespice a cup,
To give mine enemy a lasting wink;
Which draught to me were cordial.
Cam.
Sir, my lord,
I could do this, and that with no rash38 note potion,
But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work
Maliciously, like poison.39 note But I cannot
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable.
-- 23 --
Leon.
Make that thy question, and go rot!
Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation? sully
The purity and whiteness of my honour,
Which to preserve is sleep; which being spotted,
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps?
Give scandal to the blood o'the prince my son,
Who, I do think, is mine, and love as mine,
Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this?
Could man so blench?40 note
Cam.
I must believe you, sir;
I do; and will fetch off Bithynia for't:
Provided, that when he's remov'd, your highness
Will take again your queen, as yours at first,
Even for your son's sake; and, thereby, for sealing
The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms
Known and allied to yours.
Leon.
Thou dost advise me,
Even so as I mine own course have set down:
I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.
Cam.
My lord,
Go then; and with a countenance as clear
As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bithynia,
And with your queen: I am his cupbearer;
If from me he have wholesome beverage,
Account me not your servant.
Leon.
This is all:
Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart;
Do't not, thou split'st thine own.
Cam.
I'll do't, my lord.
Leon.
I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me.
[Exit.
Cam.
O miserable lady!—But, for me,
What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner
Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do't
Is the obedience to a master; one,
Who, in rebellion with himself, will have
All that are his, so too.—To do this deed,
-- 24 --
Promotion follows. If I could find example
Of thousands, that had struck anointed kings,
And flourish'd after, I'd not do't; but since
Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one,
Let villainy itself forswear't. I must
Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain
To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now!
Here comes Bithynia.
Enter Polixenes.
Pol.
This is strange! methinks
My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?—
Good-day, Camillo.
Cam.
Hail, most royal sir!
Pol.
What is the news i' the court?
Cam.
None rare, my lord.
Pol.
The king hath on him such a countenance,
As he had lost some province, and a region,
Lov'd as he loves himself: even now I met him
With customary compliment; when he,
Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling
A lip of much contempt, speeds from me, and
So leaves me, to consider what is breeding,
That changes thus his manners.
Cam.
I dare not know, my lord.
Pol.
How! dare not?
Cam.
There is a sickness
Which puts some of us in distemper; but
I cannot name the disease; and it is caught
Of you, that yet are well.
Pol.
How! caught of me?
Make me not sighted like the basilisk:
I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better
By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,—.
I beseech you,
If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not
In ignorant concealment.
Cam.
I may not answer.
Pol.
I must be answer'd.—Dost thou hear, Camillo,
I cónjure thee, by all the parts of man,
-- 25 --
Which honour does acknowledge,—whereof the least
Is not this suit of mine,—that thou declare
What incidency thou dost guess of harm
Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near;
Which way to be prevented, if to be;
If not, how best to bear it.
Cam.
Sir, I'll tell you;
Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him
That I think honourable: therefore, mark my counsel;
Which must be even as swiftly follow'd, as
I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me
Cry, lost, and so good-night.
Pol.
On, good Camillo.
Cam.
I am appointed Him to murder you.41 note
Pol.
By whom, Camillo?
Cam.
By the King.
Pol.
For what?
Cam.
He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,
As he had seen't, or been an instrument
To vice you to't,42 note—that you have approach'd his queen
Forbiddenly.
Pol.
O, then my best blood turn
To an infected jelly; and my approach be shunn'd,
Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection
That e'er was heard, or read!
Cam.
Swear this thought over
By each particular star in heaven—
You may as well
Forbid the sea for to obey the moon,
As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake,
The fabrick of his folly.
Pol.
How should this grow?
Cam.
I know not: but, I am sure, 'tis safer to
Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis born.
If, therefore, you dare trust my honesty,—
That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you
-- 26 --
Shall bear along impawn'd,—away to night.
For myself, I'll put
My fortunes to your service, which are here
By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain;
For, by the honour of my parents, I
Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove,
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer
Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon
His execution sworn.
Pol.
I do believe thee:
I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand;
Be pilot to me, and thy places shall
Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and
My people did expect my hence departure
Two days ago. Fear o'ershades me:
Good expedition be my friend—Heaven comfort
The gracious queen. Come, Camillo;
I will respect thee as a father, if
Thou bear'st my life off hence. Let us avoid.
Cam.
It is in mine authority to command
The keys of all the posterns. Please your highness
To take the urgent hour: come, sir, away.
[Exeunt.
END OF ACT FIRST.
-- 27 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FIRST.
note
note
note
note
-- 28 --
note
note
note
note
-- 29 --
-- 30 --
-- 31 --
ACT II.
Scene I.
—COURT OF THE GYNÆCONITIS, OR WOMEN'S APARTMENTS.(A)8Q0231
Women playing on Musical Instruments.(B)8Q0232
Hermione, Mamillius, and Ladies discovered.
Her.
Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,
'Tis past enduring.
1st Lady.
Come, my gracious lord,
Shall I be your play-fellow?
Mam.
No, I'll none of you;
I love you better.
2nd Lady.
And why so, my good lord?
Mam.
Not for because
Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say,
Become some women best.
2nd Lady.
Who taught you this?
Mam.
I learn'd it out of women's faces. Pray now
What colour are your eye-brows?
1st Lady.
Blue, my lord.
Mam.
Nay, that's a mock. I have seen a lady's nose
That has been blue, but not her eye-brows.
2nd Lady.
Hark ye:
We shall present our services to a fine new prince,
One of these days; and then you'd play with us,
If we would have you.
Her.
What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now
I am for you again. Pray you, sit by us,
And tell's a tale.
Mam.
Merry, or sad, shall't be?
Her.
As merry as you will.
-- 32 --
Mam.
As sad tale's best for winter:1 note
I have one of sprites and goblins.
Her.
Let's have that, sir.
Come on, sit down.—Come on, and do your best
To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it.
Mam.
There was a man,—
Her.
Nay, come, sit down; then on.
Mam.
Dwelt by a grave-yard;—I will tell it softly;
Yon crickets shall not hear it.
Her.
Come on, then,
And give't me in mine ear.
Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and Attendants.
Leon.
Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him?
1st Lord.
Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never
Saw I men scour so on their way: I ey'd them
Even to their ships.
Leon.
How bless'd am I
In my just censure!2 note in my true opinion!—
Alack, for lesser knowledge!3 note—How accurs'd,
In being so blest!—
Camillo was his help in this, his pander:—
There is a plot against my life, my crown;
All's true that is mistrusted:—that false villain,
Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:
He has discover'd my design, and I
Remain a pinch'd thing;4 note yea, a very trick
For them to play at will.—How came the posterns
So easily open?
1st Lord.
By his great authority;
Which often hath no less prevail'd than so,
On your command.
-- 33 --
Leon.
I know't too well.—
Give me the boy; I am glad you did not nurse him:
Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you
Have too much blood in him.
Her.
What is this? sport?
Leon.
Bear the boy hence, he shall not come about her;
Away with him.
[Exeunt Second Lord, with Mamillius.
Look on her, mark her well; be but about
To say, she is a goodly lady, and
The justice of your hearts will thereto add,
'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:
Praise her but for this her without-door form,
(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech), and straight
The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands
That calumny doth use; for calumny will sear
Virtue itself:5 note these shrugs, these hums, and ha's,
When you have said, she's goodly, come between,
Ere you can say she's honest. But be it known,
From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,
She's an adultress.
Her.
Should a villain say so,
The most replenish'd villain in the world,
He were as much more villain; you, my lord,
Do but mistake.
Leon.
You have mistook, my lady,
Polixenes for Leontes. O thou thing,
Which I'll not call a creature of thy place,
Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,
Should a like language use to all degrees,
And mannerly distinguishment leave out
Betwixt the prince and beggar! I have said
She's an adultress; I have said with whom:
More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is
A federary6 note with her; ay, and privy
To this their late escape.
-- 34 --
Her.
No. by my life,
Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,
When you shall come to clearer knowledge that
You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord,
You scarce can right me throughly then, to say
You did mistake.
Leon.
No, no; if I mistake
In those foundations which I build upon,
The centre7 note is not big enough to bear
A schoolboy's top.—Away with her to prison:
He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty,8 note
But that he speaks.
Her.
There's some ill planet reigns;
I must be patient, till the heavens look
With an aspéct more favourable:9 note
Good my lords,
I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew,
Perchance, shall dry your pities; but I have
That honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns
Worse than tears drown. 'Beseech you all, my lords,
With thoughts so qualified as your charities
Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
The king's will be perform'd!
Leon.
Shall I be heard?
[To the attendants.
Her.
Who is't that goes with me?—'beseech your highness,
My women may be with me, for you know
My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools;
There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress
Has deserv'd prison, then abound in tears.
This action I now go on,
-- 35 --
Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord:
I never wish'd to see you sorry; now,
I trust, I shall.—My women, come; you have leave.
Leon.
Go, do our bidding; hence!
[Exeunt Queen and Ladies.
2nd Lord.
'Beseech your highness, call the queen again.
Ant.
Be certain what you do, sir; lest your justice
Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer,
Yourself, your queen, your son.
2nd Lord.
For her, my lord,
I dare my life lay down, and will do't sir,
Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless.
Leon.
Hold your peaces.
Ant.
It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:
You are abus'd, and by some putter-on10 note
That will be damn'd for't. Be she honour-flaw'd.—
I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven;
The second, and the third, nine, and some five:11 note
If this prove true, they'll pay for't;
By mine honour, fourteen they shall not see,
To bring false generations.
Leon.
Cease; no more.
You smell this business with a sense as cold
As is a dead man's nose: I see't, and feel't,
As you feel doing thus; and see withal
The instruments that feel.
Ant.
If it be so,
We need no grave to bury honesty;
There's not a grain of it.
Leon.
What! lack I credit?
Ant.
I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,
Upon this ground: and more it would content me
To have her honour true, than your suspicion,
Be blam'd for't how you might.
Leon.
Either thou art most ignorant by age,
Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,
-- 36 --
Added to their familiarity,
(Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture),
Doth push on this proceeding:
Yet, for a greater confirmation,
(For, in an act of this importance, 'twere
Most piteous to be wild,) I have despatch'd in post,
To sacred Delphi, to Apollo's temple,
Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know
Of stuff'd sufficiency.12 note Now, from the oracle
They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,
Shall stop, or spur me. Have I done well?
2nd Lord.
Well done, my lord.
Leon.
Though I am satisfied, and need no more
Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
Give rest to the minds of others; such as he,
Whose ignorant credulity will not
Come up to the truth: So have we thought it good,
From our free person she should be confin'd,
Lest that the treachery of the two,13 note fled hence,
Be left her to perform. Come, follow us.
[Exeunt.
Scene II.
—A PRISON.
One of the Latomiæ, or Prisons of Syracuse, excavated out
of the Rock(C)8Q0233, and known as the ear of Dionysius.
Enter Paulina and Attendants.
Paul.
The keeper of the prison,—call to him;
Let him have knowledge who I am.—[Exit an Attendant.] Good lady!
No court in Europe is too good for thee,
What dost thou then in prison?—[Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper.]—Now, good sir,
You know me, do you not?
-- 37 --
Keep.
For a worthy lady,
And one whom much I honour.
Paul.
Pray you then,
Conduct me to the queen.
Keep.
I may not, madam; to the contrary
I have express commandment.
Paul.
Here's ado,
To lock up honesty and honour from
The access of gentle visitors!—Is it lawful,
Pray you, to see her women? any of them?
Emilia?
Keep.
So please you, madam, to put
Apart these your attendants, I shall bring
Emilia forth.
Paul.
I pray you now, call her.
Withdraw yourselves.
[Exeunt Attendants.
Keep.
And, madam,
I must be present at your conference.
Paul.
Well, be it so, pr'ythee.
[Exit Keeper.
Here's such ado to make no stain a stain,
As passes colouring.
[Re-enter Keeper, with Emilia.
Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?
Emil.
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.
Paul.
A boy?
Emil.
A daughter; and a goodly babe,
Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives
Much comfort in't: says, My poor prisoner,
I am innocent as you.
Paul.
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' loudest: We do not know
How he may soften at the sight o'the child.
Keep.
Madam, if't please the queen to send the babe,
-- 38 --
I know not what I shall incur, to pass it,
Having no warrant.
Paul.
You need not fear it, sir:
This child, by law and process of great nature, is
Free'd and enfranchis'd: not a party to
The anger of the king; nor guilty of,
If any be, the trespass of the queen.
Paul.
Do not you fear: upon
Mine honour, I will stand 'twixt you and danger.
[Exeunt.
Scene III.
—A ROOM IN THE PALACE, WITH VIEW OF PART OF THE CITY OF SYRACUSE.(D)8Q0234
Leontes discovered on a Couch. Antigonus and Lords
in the back-ground, watching the King.
Leon.
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' the cause,
She, the adultress;—for the harlot king
Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank
And level of my brain, plot proof;14 note 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.
Enter Attendant.
Leon.
Who's there?
1st Atten.
My lord!
Leon.
How does the boy?
1st Atten.
He took good rest to-night;
'Tis hop'd his sickness is discharg'd.
Leon.
To see,
His nobleness!
Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,
-- 39 --
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 down-right languish'd.—Leave me solely:15 note go.
See how he fares. [Exit Attend.]—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 power.
Enter Paulina and two Attendants, with a Child.
1st Lord.
You must not enter.
Paul.
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.
Ant.
That's enough.
2nd Lord.
Madam, he hath not slept to-night; commanded
None should come at him.
Paul.
Not so hot, good sir;
I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you
Nourish the cause of his awaking: I
Do come with words as med'cinal as true;
Honest, as either; to purge him of that humour,
That presses him from sleep.
Leon.
What noise, there, ho?
Paul.
No noise, my lord; but needful conference,
About some gossips for your highness.
Leon.
How?—
Away with that audacious lady: Antigonus,
I charg'd thee, that she should not come about me;
I knew she would.
-- 40 --
Ant.
I told her so, my lord,
On your displeasure's peril, and on mine,
She should not visit you.
Leon.
What, canst not rule her?
Paul.
From all dishonesty, he can: in this,
He shall not rule me.
Good, my liege, I come,—
And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess
Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
Your most obedient counsellor; I say, I come
From your good queen.
Leon.
Good queen!
Paul.
Good queen, my lord, good queen: I say good queen;
And would by combat make her good, so were I
A man, the worst16 note about you.
Leon.
Force her hence.
Paul.
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.
Leon.
Out!
A mankind witch!17 note Hence with her, out o' door:
Paul.
Not so:
I am no less honest
Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant,
As this world goes, to pass for honest.
Leon.
Traitors!
Will you not push her out?
Thou dotard, [to Ant.] thou art woman-tir'd,—18 note
-- 41 --
Take up the brat:
Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone.19 note
Paul.
For ever
Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak'st up the princess, by that forced20 note baseness
Which he has put upon't!
Leon.
He dreads his wife.
Paul.
So, I would, you did; then, 'twere past all doubt,
You'd call your children yours.
Leon.
A nest of traitors!
Ant.
I am none, by this good light.
Paul.
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,21 note betrays to slander,
Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not once remove
The root of his opinion, which is rotten
As ever oak or stone was sound.
Leon.
This brat is none of mine.
Paul.
It is yours;
And, might we lay the 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 his frown, his forehead, cheek, and smiles:
And thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it
So like to him, if thou hast
The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours
No yellow in't,22 note lest she suspect, as he does,
Her children not her husband's!
Leon.
A gross hag!—
-- 42 --
And lozel,23 note thou art worthy to be hang'd,
That wilt not stay her tongue.
Ant.
Hang all the husbands
That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.
Leon.
Once more, take her hence.
Paul.
I'll not call you tyrant;
But this most cruel usage of your queen
Savours of tyranny, and will ignoble make you;
Yea, scandalous to the world.
Leon.
On your allegiance,
Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant,
Where were her life? Away with her.
Paul.
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 need 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.
Leon.
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 what thou else call'st thine. Go, take it to the fire,
For thou sett'st on thy wife.
Ant.
I did not, sir;
These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
Can clear me in't.
2nd Lord.
We can, my royal liege;
He is not guilty of her coming hither.
Leon.
You are traitors, all.
Ant.
'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
-- 43 --
(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.
Leon.
I am a feather for each wind that blows:
Shall I live on to see this creature kneel
And call me father? Better burn it now
Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live:
It shall not neither.—You, sir, come you hither.
[To Antigonus.
You, that have been so tenderly officious,
What will you adventure to save this brat's life?
Ant.
Any thing, 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: any thing possible.
Leon.
It shall be possible. Swear by this sword(E)8Q0235
Thou wilt perform my bidding.
Ant.
I will, my lord.
Leon.
Mark, and perform it—seest thou?—for the fail
Of any point in't shall not only be
Death to thyself, but to thy loud-tongued wife;
Whom, for this time, we pardon. We enjoin thee,
As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry
This female infant 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 its 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,24 note
Where chance may nurse or end it.—Take it up.
Ant.
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
-- 44 --
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,25 note
Against this cruelty, fight on thy side;
Poor thing, condemn'd to loss!26 note
[Exit, with the child.
Leon.
No, I'll not rear
Another's issue.
Enter Second Attendant.
2nd Atten.
Please your highness, posts
From those you sent to the oracle are come
An hour since. Cleomenes and Dion,
Being well arriv'd from Delphi, are both landed,
Hasting to the court.
Leon.
Twenty-three days
They have been absent: 'Tis good speed: fortels,
The great Apollo suddenly will have
The truth of this appear. Pepare 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.
END OF ACT SECOND.
-- 45 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT SECOND.
note
note
note -- 46 --
note
note
-- 47 --
ACT III.
Scene 1
Scene—THE THEATRE AT SYRACUSE,(A)8Q0236
Prepared for the Trial of Queen Hermione.
Leontes, Lords, Officers, and Spectators appear, properly arranged.
Leon.
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.
Offi.
It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen
Appear in person here in court.—
[Exeunt Heralds.
Silence!
[Hermione is brought in, Paulina and Ladies attending.
Leon.
Read the indictment.
Offi.
Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, king of
Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason,
with Polixenes, king of Bithynia; and conspiring with
Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king,
thy royal husband; the pretence1 note whereof, being by circumstances
partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to
the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and
aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.
-- 48 --
Her.
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 integrity2 note
Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
Be so receiv'd. 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 so,) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true
As I am now unhappy; which3 note 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 it4 note
As I weigh grief, which I would spare:5 note for honour,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,6 note
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,
-- 49 --
With what encounter so uncurrent have
I stray'd t'appear thus:7 note
if one jot beyond
The bound of honour; or, in act, or will,
That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts
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;
Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.
Leon.
As you were past all shame,
(Those of your fact8 note are so,) so past all truth:
Which to deny, concerns more than avails:9 note
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.
Her.
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,10 note 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 our marriage, from his presence
I am barr'd, like one infectious:11 note My third comfort,
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast
Haled out to murder: Myself on every post
-- 50 --
Proclaim'd a wanton:—Lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i'the open air, before
I have got strength of limit.12 note 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.(B)8Q0237
Leon.
Bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his oracle.(C)8Q0238
[Exeunt Heralds.
[Re-enter Heralds with Cleomenes, Dion, and a
procession of Trumpeters, Guards, and Priests,
bearing the Ark or Chest(D)8Q0239 in which the oracle
has been conveyed from Delphi.
Offi.
You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
Been both at Delphi; 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.
Cleo. Dion.
All this we swear.
Leon.
Break up the seals and read.(E)8Q0240
[Cleomenes unlocks the chest, and hands the
scroll to the Officer of the Court.
Offi. [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.
-- 51 --
Lords.
Now blessed be the great Apollo!
Her.
Praised!
Leon.
Hast thou read truth?
Offi.
Ay, my lord; even so
As it is here set down.
Leon.
There is no truth at all i'the oracle:
The sessions shall proceed; this is mere falsehood.
Enter First Attendant, hastily.
1st Att.
My lord the king, the king!
Leon.
What is the business?
1st Att.
O sir, I shall be hated to report it:
The prince, your son, with mere conceit and fear
Of the queen's speed,13 note is gone.
Leon.
How! gone?
1st Att.
Is dead.
Leon.
Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves
Do strike at my injustice.[Hermione faints.] How now there?
Paul.
This news is mortal to the queen:—Look down,
And see what death is doing.
Leon.
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:—He, most humane.
And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest
-- 52 --
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.
Paul.
Woe! woe! woe the while!
Elder of the Council.
What fit is this, good lady?
Paul.
Thy tyranny
Together working with thy jealousies,—
O think what they have done,
And then run mad, indeed!—the queen, the queen,
The sweetest, dearest creature's dead; and vengeance for't
Not dropp'd down yet.
Elder.
The higher powers forbid!
Paul.
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. 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.
Leon.
Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.
Elder.
Say no more;
Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I'the boldness of your speech.
Paul.
I am sorry for't.
Alas, I have show'd too much
The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd
To the 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,
-- 53 --
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
Take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.14 note
Leon.
Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth; which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, 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,(F)8Q0241 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.
END OF ACT THIRD
-- 54 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT THIRD.
note
-- 55 --
-- 56 --
-- 57 --
-- 58 --
note
note
-- 59 --
note
note
note
-- 60 --
ACT IV.
Scene I.
—BITHYNIA. A DESERT COUNTRY NEAR THE SEA.
Enter Antigonus, with the Child; and a Mariner.
Ant.
Thou art perfect,1 note
then; our ship hath touch'd upon
The deserts of Bithynia?
Mar.
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 us.
Ant.
Their sacred wills be done!—Go, get aboard;
Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before
I call upon thee.
Mar.
Make your best haste; and go not
Too far i'the land: 'tis like to be loud weather;
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
Of prey, that keep upon't.
Ant.
Go thou away;
I'll follow instantly.
Mar.
I am glad at heart
To be so rid o' the business.
[Exit.
Ant.
Come, poor babe:—
I have heard (but not believ'd) the spirits of the dead
May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother
-- 61 --
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 o'er-running;—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 Bithynia;
There wend, and leave it crying; and, for the babe
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,
I pr'ythee, call't; for this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
Thy wife, Paulina, more:—and so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Dreams are toys;
Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar'd 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, speed thee well!
[Laying down the child.
There lie, and there thy character.2 note 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!
-- 62 --
The day frowns more and more; thou art like to have
A lullaby too rough. I never saw
The heavens so dim by day.
[Hunting horns heard without.
A savage clamour?—3 note
Well may I get aboard!—This is the chace;
I am gone for ever.
[Exit pursued by a bear.(A)8Q0242
Enter an old Shepherd.
Shep.
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 wronging the ancientry,
stealing, fighting. [Horns heard again.] Hark you, now!—
Would any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two and
twenty, hunt this weather? They have scared 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.
browzing on 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!4 note A boy, or a child,5 note I wonder? A
pretty one—a very pretty one. I'll take it up for pity; yet
I'll tarry till my son come; he holla'd but even now.
Whoa, ho, hoa!
Enter Clown.
Clown.
Hilloa, loa!
Shep.
What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk
on when thou art dead and buried, come hither. What ail'st
thou, man?
Clown.
I have seen two such sights, by sea, and by land.
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 yest and froth, as
-- 63 --
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'd6 note it:—but, first, how the poor
souls roar'd, and the sea mock'd them;—and how the poor
gentleman roar'd, and how the bear mocked him, both roaring
louder than the sea or weather.
Shep.
'Name of mercy, when was this, boy?
Clown.
Now, now; I have not winked 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.
Shep.
Would I had been by, to have help'd the nobleman!
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-cloth7 note for a king's child!(B)8Q0243
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:8 note—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!
Shep.
This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up
with it, keep it close; home, home, the next way.9 note 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. If there be any of him left, I'll bury it.
Shep.
That's a good deed: 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and
we'll do good deeds on't.
[Exeunt.
-- 64 --
A CLASSICAL ALLEGORY, REPRESENTING THE COURSE OF TIME.
LUNA IN HER CAR, ACCOMPANIED BY THE STARS (PERSONIFIED), SINKING BEFORE
THE APPROACH OF PHŒBUS. CRONOS, AS TIME, SURMOUNTING THE GLOBE,
DESCRIBES THE EVENTS OF THE SIXTEEN YEARS SUPPOSED TO HAVE ELAPSED.
ASCENT OF PHŒBUS IN THE CHARIOT OF THE SUN.
Time.
I, that please some, try all; both joy and terror,
Of good and bad; that make and unfold 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,10 note since it is in my power
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 received: I witness to
The times that brought them in; so shall I do
To the freshest things now reigning; and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it. The king, Leontes, leaving
The effects of his fond jealousies; so grieving,
That he shuts up himself; imagine me,11 note
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bithynia, and remember well,
-- 65 --
I mention'd a son o' the 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 prophecy; but let Time's news
Be known, when 'tis brought forth:—a shepherd's daughter,
And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is the argument12 note of time: Of this allow,13 note
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.
—A ROOM IN THE PALACE OF POLIXENES.
Polixenes, Camillo, and Harper, with Attendants discovered.
Cam.
It is sixteen 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'erween14 note to think so; which is another spur to
my departure.
Pol.
I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate:
'tis a sickness, denying thee any thing; a death, to grant
this. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of
thy services by leaving me now. Of that fatal country
Sicilia, pr'ythee speak no more. Say to me, when saw'st
thou the prince Florizel, my son?
Cam.
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,15 note he is of late much retired from court;
-- 66 --
and is less frequent to his princely exercises, than formerly
he hath appeared.
Pol.
I have consider'd 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.
Cam.
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.
Pol.
That's likewise part of my intelligence. Thou
shalt accompany us to the place: where we will, not appearing
what we are, have some question16 note with the shepherd;
from whose simplicity, I think it not uneasy to get the cause
of my son's resort thither. Pr'ythee, be my present partner
in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.
Cam.
I willingly obey your command.
Pol.
My best Camillo!—We must disguise ourselves.
[Exeunt.
Scene III.
—A ROAD NEAR THE SHEPHERD'S FARM.
Enter Autolycus, a rogue,17 note
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.
I have serv'd prince Florizel, and, in my time wore fine
garments; but now I am out of service:
-- 67 --
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.
My father named me, Autolycus; who, being, as I am,
litter'd under Mercury,18 note was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered
trifles: With die, and drab, I purchased this
caparison,19 note and my revenue is the silly cheat.20 note—A prize!
a prize!
Enter Clown.
Clown.
Let me see:—Every 'leven wether tods; every
tod21 note yields—fifteen hundred shorn,—What comes the
wool to?
Aut.
If the springe hold, the cock's mine.
[Aside.
Clown.
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. Mace,—dates,—none; that's out of
my note: nutmegs, seven; a race, or two of ginger;—but
that I may beg;—four pound of prunes, and as many of
raisins o'the sun.
Aut.
O that ever I was born!
[Groveling on the ground.
Clown.
I' the name of me,—22 note
Aut.
O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags;
and then death, death!
-- 68 --
Clown.
Alack, poor soul; thou hast need of more rags
to lay on thee, rather than have these off.
Aut.
I am robb'd, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel
ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.
Clown.
Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me
thy hand.
[Helping him up.
Aut.
O! good sir, tenderly; oh!
Clown.
Alas, poor soul.
Aut.
O, good sir, softly, good sir: I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade
is out.
Clown.
How now? canst stand?
Aut.
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.
Aut.
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 any
thing I want: Offer me no money, I pray you; that kills
my heart.
Clown.
What manner of fellow was he that robb'd you?
Aut.
A fellow, sir, that I knew once a servant of the
prince; I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it
was, but he was certainly whipp'd out of the court.
Clown.
His vices, you would say; there's no virtue
whipp'd out of the court.
Aut.
Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well; he
hath been since a process-server, then he 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:23 note
he
haunts festivals, games, and merry meetings.
Aut.
Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that
put me into this apparel.
-- 69 --
Clown.
Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bithynia; if
you had but look'd big, and spit at him, he'd have run.
Aut.
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?
Aut.
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?
Aut.
No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.
Clown.
Then fare thee well; I must go buy spices for
our sheep-shearing.
Aut.
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 enroll'd, and my name put in the book of virtue!
Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:24 note
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.
[Exit.
Scene IV.
—A PASTORAL SCENE IN BITHYNIA, WITH A DISTANT VIEW OF THE CITY OF NICÆA, ON THE LAKE ASCANIA;
Together with the chain of lofty Mountains, known as the Mysian Olympus.
Florizel and Perdita discovered.
Flo.
These your unusual weeds to each part of you
Do give a life: no shepherdess; but Flora,
Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing
Is as a meeting of the petty gods,
And you the queen on't.
-- 70 --
Per.
Sure, my gracious lord,
To chide at your extremes,25 note it not becomes me;
O, pardon, that I name them: your high self,
The gracious mark o' the land,26 note you have obscur'd
With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,
Most goddess-like prank'd up.27 note
Flo.
I bless the time,
When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father's ground.
Per.
Now Jove afford you cause!
Even now I tremble
To think, your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did. O, the fates!
How would he look, to see his work, so noble,
Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how
Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
The sternness of his presence?
Flo.
Apprehend
Nothing but jollity.
Per.
O but, dear sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'the king;
One of these two must be necessities,
Which then will speak; that you must change this purpose,
Or I my life.
Flo.
Thou dearest Perdita,
With these forc'd thoughts,28 note I pr'ythee, darken not
The mirth o'the feast: Or I'll be thine, my fair,
Or not my father's; for I cannot be
Mine own, nor any thing to any, if
I be not thine: to this I am most constant,
Though destiny say no.
[Rural music heard without.
Your guests are coming:
-- 71 --
Lift up your countenance; as it were the day
Of celebration of that nuptial, which
We two have sworn shall come.
Per.
O lady fortune,
Stand you auspicious!
Flo.
See, your guests approach;
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.
Enter Shepherd, with Polixenes and Camillo, disguised;
Clown, Mopsa, Dorcas, and others.
Shep.
Fye, daughter! when my old wife liv'd, upon
This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook;
Both dame and servant: welcom'd all; serv'd all:
Would sing her song, and dance her turn. You are retir'd,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting: Pray you, bid
These unknown friends to us welcome; for it is
A way to make us better friends, more known.
Come, quench your blushes; and present yourself
That which you are, mistress o'the feast: Come on,
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
As your good flock shall prosper.
Per.
Welcome, sir!
[To Polixenes.
It is my father's will I should take on me
The hostess-ship o'the day.—You're welcome, sir;
[To Camillo.
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.—Reverend sirs,
For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep
Seeming and savour all the winter long:
Grace and remembrance be to you both;29 note
-- 72 --
Sirs, welcome to our shearing!
Pol.
Shepherdess
(A fair one are you), well you fit our ages
With flowers of winter.
Cam.
I should leave grazing were I of your flock,
And only live by gazing.
Per.
Out, alas!
You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through.—Now, my fairest friend,
[To Florizel.
I would I had some flowers o'the spring that might
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours;
Daffodils that come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,30 note
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phœbus in his strength; bold oxlips, and
The crown-imperial; O, these I lack,
To make you garlands of: and, my sweet friend,
To strew him o'er and o'er.
Flo.
What? like a corse?
Per.
No, not like a corse: or if,—not to be buried,
But quick, and in mine arms.
Pol.
This is the prettiest low-born-lass that ever
Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does, or says,
But smacks of something greater than herself;
Too noble for this place.
Cam.
He tells her something
That wakes her blood—look on't:31 note Good sooth, she is
The queen of curds and cream.
Flo.
But, come; our dance, I pray:
Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,
That never mean to part.
Per.
I'll swear for 'em.
Clown.
Come on, strike up.
-- 73 --
Dor.
Mopsa must be your mistress.
Mop.
Now, in good time!
Clown.
Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners.—32 note
Come, strike up.
[Music.
HERE A DANCE OF SHEPHERDS AND SHEPHERDESSES.(C)8Q0244
Pol.
Pray, good shepherd, what
Fair swain is this which dances with your daughter?
Shep.
They call him Doricles; and he boasts himself
To have a worthy feeding.33 note
He says he loves my daughter; and, to be plain
I think there is not half a kiss to choose,
Who loves the other best: if young Doricles
Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreams of.
Enter a Servant.
Ser.
O master, if you did but hear the pedlar here without,
you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe;
he sings several tunes faster than you'll tell money.
Clown.
He could never come better: I love a ballad but
even too well.
Ser.
He hath songs, for man, or woman, of all sizes. He
sings them over 'as they were gods or goddesses.
Clown.
Pr'ythee bring him here, and let him approach,
singing.
Enter Autolycus, as a Pedlar,(D)8Q0245 singing, surrounded by a crowd of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry;
Come, buy, &c.
Clown.
If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou should'st
take no money of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will
also be the bondage of certain fillets and gloves.
-- 74 --
Mop.
I was promised them against the feast; but they
come not too late now.
Dor.
He hath promised you more than that, or there be
liars.
Mop.
He hath paid you all he promised you: may be,
he has paid you more.
Clown.
Is there no manners left among maids? Charm
your tongues, and not a word more.
Mop.
I have done.
Clown.
Have I not told thee, how I was cozen'd by the
way, and lost all my money?
Aut.
And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore
it behoves men to be wary.
Clown.
Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.
Aut.
I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of
charge.
Clown.
What hast here? ballads?
Mop.
Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad.
Aut.
Here's one, to a very doleful tune, How a usurer's
wife long'd to eat adders' heads, and toads carbonado'd.
Mop.
Is it true, think you?
Aut.
Very true; and but a month old.
Why should I carry lies abroad?
Mop.
'Pray you now, buy it.
Clown.
Come on, lay it by: And let's first see more
ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.
Aut.
Here's another ballad, Of a fish, that appear'd upon
the coast, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung
this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought,
she was a woman, and was turn'd into a fish.34 note The ballad
is very pitiful, and as true.
Dor.
Is it true, too, think you?
Aut.
Witnesses, more than my pack will hold.
Clown.
Lay it by too: Another.
Aut.
This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
Mop.
Let's have some merry ones.
-- 75 --
Aut.
Why, this is a passing merry one; and goes to the
tune of, Two maids wooing a man.
Mop.
We can both sing it, if thou'lt bear a part; 'tis
in three parts.
Dor.
We had the tune on't a month ago.
Aut.
Have at it with you.
SONG.
A.
Get you hence, for I must go;
Where, it fits not you to know.
D.
Whither?
M.
O, whither?
D.
Whither?
M.
It becomes thy oath full well,
Thou to me thy secrets tell:
D.
Me too, let me go thither.
M.
Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill:
D.
If to either thou dost ill.
A.
Neither.
D.
What, neither?
A.
Neither.
D.
Thou hast sworn my love to be;
Thou hast sworn it more to me:
Then, whither go'st? say, whither?
Clown.
We'll have this song out anon by ourselves: My
father and the gentlemen are in sad35 note talk, and we'll not
trouble them: Come, bring away thy pack after me.
Wenches, I'll buy for you both:—Pedlar, let's have the
first choice.—Follow me, girls.
Aut.
And you shall pay well for 'em.
[Aside.
Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry;
Come, buy, &c.
[Exeunt Clown, Autolycus, Dorcas, Mopsa, and others.
Enter a Servant.
Ser.
Master, there is three goatherds, three shepherds,
three neatherds, three swineherds, that have made themselves
all men of hair;36 note they call themselves Satyrs; and
-- 76 --
they have a dance which they themselves are o' the
mind, will please plentifully.
Shep.
Away! we'll none on't; here has been too much
homely foolery already:—I know, sir, we weary you.
Pol.
You weary those that refresh us: Pray, let's see
these four threes of herdsmen.
Ser.
One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath
danced before the king; and not the worst of the three, but
jumps twelve foot and a half by the square.37 note
Shep.
Leave your prating; since these good men are
pleased, let them approach; but quickly now.
Ser.
Why, they stay without, sir.
[Exit.
[Re-enter Servant, with twelve rustics habited like Satyrs; accompanied by a crowd of
peasantry, who dance wildly and indulge in all the extravagant merriment of a Dionysia,(E)8Q0246 and then exeunt.
Pol.
O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.—
How now, fair shepherd?
Your heart is full of something, that does take
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young,
And handed love, as you do, I was wont
To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd
The pedlar's silken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance; you have let him go,
And nothing marted with him.
Flo.
Old sir, I know
She prizes not such trifles as these are:
The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd
Up in my heart; which I have given already,
But not deliver'd.—O, hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand; this hand,
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it;
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow,
That's bolted38 note by the northern blasts twice o'er.
-- 77 --
Pol.
How prettily the young swain seems to wash
The hand was fair before!—I have put you out:—
But, to your protestation; let me hear
What you profess.
Flo.
Do, and be witness to't.
Pol.
And this my neighbour too?
Flo.
And he, and more
Than he, and men; the earth, the heavens, and all:
That,—were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve; had sense and knowledge,
More than was ever man's,—I would not prize them,
Without her love: for her, employ them all;
Commend them, and condemn them, to her service,
Or to their own perdition.
Shep.
But, my daughter,
Say you the like to him?
Per.
I cannot speak
So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better:
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.
Shep.
Take hands, a bargain;—
And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't:
I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.
Flo.
O, that must be
I'the virtue of your daughter: one being dead,
I shall have more than you can dream of yet;
Enough then for your wonder.
Shep.
Come, your hand;—
And, daughter, yours.
Pol.
Soft, swain, a-while, 'beseech you;
Have you a father?
Flo.
I have: But what of him?
Pol.
Knows he of this?
Flo.
He neither does, nor shall.
Pol.
Methinks a father
Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest
That best becomes the table. Reason, my son,
Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason,
The father (all whose joy is nothing else
-- 78 --
But fair posterity), should hold some counsel
In such a business.
Flo.
I yield all this;
But, for some other reasons, my grave sir,
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My father of this business.
Pol.
Let him know't.
Flo.
He shall not.
Pol.
Pr'ythee, let him.
Flo.
No, he must not.
Shep.
Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve
At knowing of thy choice.
Flo.
Come, come he must not:—
Mark our contràct.
Pol.
Mark your divorce, young sir,
[Discovering himself.
Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base
To be acknowledged: Thou a scepter's heir,
That thus affect'st a sheep-hook!—Thou old traitor,
I am sorry that, by hanging thee, I can but
Shorten thy life one week.—For thee, fond boy,—
If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh,
That thou no more shalt see this knack, (as never
I mean thou shalt,) we'll bar thee from succession;
Not hold thee of our blood. Mark thou my words;
Follow us to the court.—And you, enchantment,—
If ever, henceforth, thou
These rural latches to his entrance open,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to't.
[Exit.
Per.
Even here undone!
I was not much afeard; for once, or twice,
I was about to speak; and tell him plainly,
The selfsame sun that shines upon his court,
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike.—Wilt please you, sir, be gone?
[To Florizel.
I told you what would come of this: 'Beseech you,
Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,—
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch further,
But milk my ewes, and weep.
-- 79 --
Shep.
I cannot speak, nor think,
Nor dare to know that which I know.—O, sir,
[To Florizel.
You have undone a man of fourscore three,
That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
To die upon the bed my father died,
To lie close by his honest bones:—O cursed wretch!
[To Perdita.
That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st adventure
To mingle faith with him.—Undone! undone!
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire.
[Exit.
Flo.
Why look you so upon me?
I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd,
But nothing alter'd: What I was, I am:
Lift up thy looks:—39 note
From my succession wipe me, father! I
Am heir to my affection.
Cam.
Be advis'd.
Flo.
I am; and by my fancy:40 note if my reason
Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;
If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness,
Do bid it welcome.
Cam.
This is desperate, sir.
Flo.
So call it: but it does fulfil my vow;
I needs must think it honesty. Camillo,
Not for Bithynia, nor the pomp that may
Be thereat glean'd; for all the sun sees, or
The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide
In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath
To this my fair belov'd; therefore, I pray you,
As you have e'er been my father's honour'd friend,
When he shall miss me, cast your good counsels
Upon his passion. I am put to sea
With her, whom here I cannot hold on shore;
And, most opportune to our need, I have
-- 80 --
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd
For this design. What course I mean to hold,
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concern me the reporting.
Cam.
O, my lord,
I would your spirit were easier for advice,
Or stronger for your need.
Flo.
Hark, Perdita.
[Takes her aside.
I'll hear you by and by.
[To Camillo.
Cam.
He's irremovable,
Resolv'd for flight. Now were I happy, if
His going I could frame to serve my turn;
Save him from danger, do him love and honour;
Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia,
And that unhappy king, my master, whom
I so much thirst to see.
Flo.
Now, good Camillo,
I am so fraught with curious business, that
I leave out ceremony.
[Going.
Cam.
Have you thought on
A place whereto you'll go?
Flo.
Not any yet.
Cam.
Then list to me.
This follows,—if you will not change your purpose,
But undergo this flight;—Make for Sicilia,
And there present yourself, and your fair princess,
(For so, I see, she must be,) 'fore the king;
Methinks, I see
Leontes, opening his free arms, and weeping
His welcomes forth; asks thee, the son, forgiveness,
As 'twere i' the father's person: kisses the hands
Of your fresh princess.
Flo.
Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my visitation shall I
Hold up before him?
Cam.
Sent by the king your father
To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir,
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What you, as from your father, shall deliver,
Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down.
Flo.
I am bound to you: There is some sap in this.
-- 81 --
But, O, the thorns we stand upon!—Camillo,
Preserver of my father, now of me;
How shall we do?
We are not furnish'd like Bithynia's son;
Nor shall appear't in Sicily.—
Cam.
My lord,
Fear none of this: I think you know, my fortunes
Do all lie there. It shall be so my care
To have you royally appointed, as if
The scene you play were true. For instance, sir,
That you may know you shall not want,—one word.
[They talk aside.
Enter Autolycus, as a Courtier.
Aut.
Ha! ha! what a fool honesty is; and trust, his
sworn brother, a very simple gentleman. I have sold all my
trumpery. My clown grew so in love with a new song,
that he would not stir till he had both tune and words;
which so drew the rest of the herd to me, that all their other
senses stuck in their ears: no hearing, no feeling, but my
sir's song, and admiring the nothing of it. So that, in this
time of lethargy, I pick'd and cut most of their festival
purses; and had not the old man come in with a hubbub
against his daughter and the king's son, and scared my
choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the
whole army.
[Camillo, Florizel, and Perdita come forward.
Cam.
Nay, but my letters by this means being there
So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.
Flo.
And those that you'll procure from King Leontes—
Cam.
Shall satisfy your father.
Per.
Happy be you!
All, that you speak, shows fair.
Cam.
Who have we here?
[Seeing Autolycus.
We'll make an instrument of this; omit
Nothing may give us aid.
Aut.
If they have overheard me, now,—why hanging.
[Aside.
-- 82 --
Cam.
How now, good fellow? Why shakest thou so?
Fear not, man; here's no harm intended to thee.
Aut.
I am a poor fellow, sir.
Cam.
Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from
thee. Yet for the outside of thy poverty, we must make an
exchange; therefore discase thee instantly (thou must think
there's necessity in't), and change garments with this gentleman:
Though the pennyworth, on his side, be the worst,
yet hold thee, there's some boot.41 note
Aut.
I am a poor fellow, sir. I know ye well
enough.
[Aside.
Flo.
Despatch, I pr'ythee.
Aut.
Indeed, I have had earnest; but I cannot with conscience
take it.
Cam.
Unbuckle, unbuckle.
[Florizel and Autolycus exchange cloaks.
Fortunate mistress, take your sweetheart's cap,
And pluck it o'er your brows; muffle your face;
And as you can, disliken
The truth of your own seeming; that you may
To shipboard get undescried.
Per.
I see, the play so lies,
That I must bear a part.
Cam.
No remedy.
Come, lady, come.—Farewell, my friend.
Aut.
Adieu, sir.
Flo.
Fortune speed us!
Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.
Cam.
The swifter speed, the better.
[Exeunt Florizel, Perdita, and Camillo.
Aut.
I understand the business, I hear it. To have an
open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a
rogue; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for
the other senses. I see, this is the time that the unjust man
doth thrive. What an exchange had this been, without
boot?—what a boot is here, with this exchange? Sure, the
-- 83 --
gods do this year connive at us, and we may do anything
extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity;
stealing away from his father, with his clog at his heels: If
I thought it were not a piece of honesty to acquaint the
king withal, I would do't. I hold it the more knavery to
conceal it; and therein am I constant to my profession.
Enter Clown and Shepherd.
Aside, aside;—here is more matter for a hot brain. Every
lane's end yields a careful man work.
Clown.
See, see; what a man you are now! there is no
other way, but to tell the king she's a changeling, and none
of your flesh and blood.
Shep.
Nay, but hear me.
Clown.
Nay, but hear me.
Shep.
Go to, then.
Clown.
She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh
and blood has not offended the king; and, so, your flesh and
blood is not to be punish'd by him. Show those things you
found with her. This being done, let the law go whistle; I
warrant you.
Shep.
I will tell the king all, every word; yea, and his
son's pranks, too; who, I may say, is no honest man neither
to his father, nor to me, to go about to make me the king's
brother-in-law.
Clown.
Indeed, brother-in-law was the furthest off you
could have been to him; and then your blood had been the
dearer, by I know not how much an ounce.
Aut.
Very wisely; puppies!
[Aside.
Shep.
Well, let us to the king; there is that in this fardel42 note
will make him scratch his beard.
Aut.
How now, rustics? whither are you bound?
Shep.
To the palace, an't like your worship.
Aut.
Your affairs there? what? with whom? the condition
of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your names,
your ages, of what having,43 note breeding, and any thing that is
fitting to be known, discover.
-- 84 --
Shep.
Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir?
Aut.
Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. See'st
thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? hath not
my gait in it the measure of the court?44 note I am courtier capa-pé,
and one that will either push on or pluck back thy
business there; whereupon I command thee to open thy
affair.
Shep.
My business, sir, is to the king.
Aut.
What advocate hast thou to him?
Shep.
I know not, an't like you.
Clown.
Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant; say
you have none.
Shep.
None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen.45 note
Aut.
How bless'd are we, that are not simple men!
Yet nature might have made me as these are,
Therefore I'll not disdain.
Clown.
This cannot be but a great courtier.
Shep.
His garments are rich, but he wears them not
handsomely.
Clown.
He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical:
a great man, I'll warrant.
Aut.
The fardel there? what's i'the fardel?
Wherefore that box?
Shep.
Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box,
which none must know but the king, and which he shall
know within this hour, if I may come to the speech of him.
Aut.
Age, thou hast lost thy labour.
Shep.
Why, sir?
-- 85 --
Aut.
The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a
new ship to air himself: For, if thou be'st capable of things
serious, thou must know the king is full of grief.
Shep.
So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that should have
married a shepherd's daughter.
Aut.
If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly;
the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break
the back of man, the heart of monster.
Clown.
Think you so, sir?
Aut.
Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy,
and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to him,
though removed fifty times, shall all come under the hangman;
which, though it be great pity, yet it is necessary.
Some say he shall be stoned, but that death is too soft for
him say I: Draw our throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths
are too few, the sharpest too easy.
Clown.
Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear, an't
like you, sir?
Aut.
He has a son, who shall be stay'd alive, then 'nointed
over with honey,46 note set on the head of a wasp's nest; then
stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recovered
again with aqua-vitæ, or some other hot infusion;
then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication
proclaims,47 note shall he be set against a brick-wall, the sun
looking with a southward eye upon him; where he is to
behold him, with flies blown to death. But what talk we of
these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smil'd at,
their offences being so capital? Tell me (for you seem to
be honest plain men) what you have to the king; being
something gently considered,48 note I'll bring you where he is
-- 86 --
aboard, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in
your behalfs; and, if it be in man, besides the king, to effect
your suits, here is man shall do it.
Clown.
He seems to be of great authority; close with
him, give him gold, and no more ado: Remember, stoned,
and flay'd alive.
Shep.
An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for
us, here is that gold I have; I'll make it as much more, and
leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you.
Aut.
After I have done what I promised?
Shep.
Ay, sir.
Aut.
Well, give me the moiety:—Are you a party in this
business?
Clown.
In some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful
one, I hope I shall not be flay'd out of it.
Aut.
O, that's the case of the shepherd's son:—Hang
him, he'll be made an example. Walk before toward the
sea-side; I will follow you.
Clown.
We are bless'd in this man, as I may say, even
bless'd.
Shep.
Let's before, as he bids us: he was provided to do
us good.
[Exeunt Shepherd and Clown.
Aut.
If I had a mind to be honest, I see, fortune would
not suffer me; she drops booties in my mouth. I am
courted now with a double occasion; gold, and a means to
do the prince my master good; which, who knows how
that may turn luck to my advancement? I will bring these
two moles, these blind ones, aboard him: there may be
matter in it.
[Exit.
END OF ACT FOURTH.
-- 87 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FOURTH.
note
note
note
note
-- 88 --
note
-- 89 --
ACT V.
Scene I.
—SICILIA. GARDEN OF THE PALACE OF LEONTES.(A)8Q0247
(This Scene is adapted from a Drawing found at Herculaneum.)
Enter Leontes,(B)8Q0248 Cleomenes, Dion, Paulina, and others.
Cleo.
Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd
A saint-like sorrow: At the last,
Do, as the heavens have done; forget your evil;
With them, forgive yourself.
Leon.
Whilst I remember
Her, and her virtues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them; and so still think of
The wrong I did myself: which was so much,
That heirless it hath made my kingdom; and
Destroy'd the sweet'st companion, that e'er man
Bred his hopes out of.
Paul.
True, too true, my lord:
If, one by one, you wedded all the world,
Or, from the all that are, took something good,
To make a perfect woman; she, you kill'd,
Would be unparallel'd.
Leon.
I think so. Kill'd!
She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strikest me
Sorely, to say I did: Now, good now,
Say so but seldom.
Cleo.
Not at all, good lady:
You might have spoken a thousand things, that would
-- 90 --
Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd
Your kindness better.
Paul.
You are one of those,
Would have him wed again.
Dion.
If you would not so,
You pity not the state, nor the remembrance
Of his most sovereign name; consider little,
What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue,
May drop upon his kingdom, and devour
Incertain lookers-on.
Paul.
The gods
Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes:
For has not the divine Apollo said,
That King Leontes shall not have an heir
Till his lost child be found? which, that it shall,
Is all as monstrous to our human reason,
As my Antigonus to break his grave,
And come again to me; who, on my life,
Did perish with the infant.
[To Leontes.
Leon.
Good Paulina,—
Who hast the memory of Hermione,
I know, in honour,—O, that ever I
Had squar'd me to thy counsel! then, even now,
I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes;
Have taken treasure from her lips,—
Paul.
And left them
More rich, for what they yielded.
Leon.
Thou speak'st truth.
No more such wives; therefore, no wife:
I'll have no wife, Paulina.
Paul.
Will you swear
Never to marry, but by my free leave?
Leon.
Never, Paulina; so be bless'd my spirit!
Paul.
Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.
Cleo.
You tempt him over-much.
Paul.
I have done.
Yet, if my lord will marry,—give me the office
To choose you a queen: she shall not be so young
As was your former; but she shall be such,
-- 91 --
As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy
To see her in your arms.
Enter First Lord.
1st Lord.
One that gives out himself Prince Florizel,
Son of Polixenes, with his princess, desires access
To your high presence.
Leon.
What with him? he comes not
Like to his father's greatness: his approach,
So out of circumstance, and sudden, tells us,
'Tis not a visitation fram'd, but forc'd
By need, and accident. What train?
1st Lord.
But few,
And those but mean.
Leon.
His princess, say you, with him?
1st Lord.
Ay; the most peerless piece of earth, I think,
That e'er the sun shone bright on.
Leon.
Go, Cleomenes;
Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends,
Bring them to our embracement.—[Exeunt Cleomenes, and Lords.]—Still 'tis strange,
He thus should steal upon us.
Paul.
Had our prince,
(Jewel of children) seen this hour, he had pair'd
Well with this lord; there was not full a month
Between their births.
Leon.
Pr'ythee no more; thou know'st
He dies to me again when talk'd of: sure,
When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches
Will bring me to consider that which may
Unfurnish me of reason.—
Re-enter Cleomenes, with Florizel, Perdita, and Lords.
They are come.—Most dearly welcome!
And your fair princess, goddess! O, alas;
I lost a couple, that 'twxit heaven and earth
Might thus have stood, begetting wonder, as
You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost
(All mine own folly) the society,
Amity too, of your brave father; whom,
-- 92 --
Though bearing misery, I desire my life
Once more to look upon.
Flo.
By his command
Have I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him
Give you all greetings that a king and friend
Can send his brother, whom he loves
More than all the sceptres,
And those that bear them, living.
Leon.
O, my brother,
The wrongs I have done thee stir
Afresh within me:—Welcome hither,
As is the spring to the earth: the blessed gods
Purge all infection from our air, whilst you
Do climate here! You have a noble father,
A graceful1 note gentleman, against whose person,
So sacred as it is, I have done sin;
For which the heavens, taking angry note,
Have left me issueless; and your father's bless'd
(As he from heaven merits it) with you,
Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,
Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on,
Such goodly things as you?
Enter Archidamus, and two Bithynian Lords.
Arch.
Please you, great sir,
Bithynia greets you from himself, by me;
Desires you to attach his son, who has
(His dignity and duty both cast off)
Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
A shepherd's daughter.
Leon.
Where's Bithynia? speak.
Arch.
Here in your city; I now came from him.
To your court whiles he was hast'ning (in the chase
Of this fair couple) meets he on the way
The father of this seeming lady, and
Her brother, having both their country quitted
With this young prince.
-- 93 --
Flo.
Camillo has betray'd me;
Whose honour, and whose honesty, till now,
Endur'd all weathers.
Arch.
He's with the king your father.
Leon.
Who? Camillo?
Arch.
Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now
Has these poor men in question.2 note
Per.
O, my poor father!—
The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.
Leon.
You are married?
Flo.
We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;
The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first.
Leon.
My lord,
Is this the daughter of a king?
Flo.
She is,
When once she is my wife.
Leon.
That once, I see, by your good father's speed,
Will come on very slowly. I am sorry
Your choice is not so rich in worth3 note as beauty.
Flo.
Dear, look up:
Though fortune, visible an enemy,
Should chase us, with my father; power no jot
Hath she to change our loves.—'Beseech you, sir,
Remember since you ow'd no more to time4 note
Than I do now: with thought of such affections,
Step forth mine advocate; at your request
My father will grant precious things as trifles.
Leon.
Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mistress,
Which he counts but a trifle.
Paul.
Sir, my liege,
Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month
'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes
Than what you look on now.
-- 94 --
Leon.
I thought of her,
Even in these looks I made.—But your petition
[To Florizel.
Is yet unanswer'd: I will to your father;
Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires,
I am friend to them, and you: upon which errand
I now go toward him; therefore, follow me,
And mark what way I make: Come, good my lord.
[Exeunt.
Scene II.
—THE TOMBS OF SYRACUSE(C)8Q0249
(Restored.) Sunset.
Enter Dion and First Lord.
Dion.
'Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation?
1st Lord.
I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard
the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it:
whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all commanded
out of the chamber: only this, methought, I heard
the shepherd say, he found the child.
Dion.
I would most gladly know the issue of it.
1st Lord.
I make a broken delivery of the business;—
But the changes I perceived in the King, and Camillo, were
very notes of admiration: there was speech in their dumbness,
language in their very gesture.
Enter Second Lord.
Here comes a gentleman, that, happily, knows more:—
The news?
2nd Lord.
The oracle is fulfill'd; the king's daughter is
found: such a deal of wonder is broken out within this
hour, that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it.
Enter Cleomenes.
How goes it now, sir? Has the king found his heir?
Cleo.
Most true; if ever truth were proved by circumstance.
The mantle of Queen Hermione;—her jewel
-- 95 --
about the neck of it;—the letters of Antigonus, found with
it, which they know to be his character;—the majesty of
the creature, in resemblance of the mother;—and many
other evidences, proclaim her, with all certainty to be the
king's daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two
kings?
Dion.
No.
Cleo.
Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen,
cannot be spoken of. Our king, being ready to leap out of
himself for joy of his found daughter, cries, O, thy mother,
thy mother! then asks Bithynia forgiveness; then embraces
his son-in-law; then thanks the old shepherd. I
never heard of such another encounter, which lames report
to follow it, and undoes description to show it.
1st Lord.
What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that
carried hence the child?
Cleo.
He was torn to pieces with a bear: this avouches
the shepherd's son, who has not only his innocence (which
seems much) to justify him, but a handkerchief, and rings,
of his, that Paulina knows.
2nd Lord.
What became of his bark, and his followers?
Cleo.
Wreck'd, the same instant of their master's death;
and in the view of the shepherd: so that all the instruments,
which aided to expose the child, were even then lost,
when it was found.
Dion.
Are they returned to the court?
Cleo.
No: the princess hearing of her mother's statue,
which is in the keeping of Paulina, thither with all greediness
of affection, are they gone.
1st Lord.
She hath privately, twice or thrice a day, ever
since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house.
Shall we thither, and with our company piece the rejoicing?
Cleo.
Who would be thence, that has the benefit of
access? Our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge,
Let's along.
[Exeunt Dion, Cleomenes, and Lords.
-- 96 --
Scene III.
—THE PERISTYLE OF PAULINA'S HOUSE.
WITH PART OF THE SCULPTURE GALLERY.
Evening.
Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina, Lords, and Attendants.
Leon.
O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort
That I have had of thee!
Paul.
What, sovereign, sir,
I did not well, I meant well: All my services,
You have paid home: but that you have vouchsaf'd,
With your crown'd brother, and these your contracted
Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit;
It is a surplus of your grace, which never
My life may last to answer.
Leon.
O Paulina,
We honour you with trouble: But we came
To see the statue of our queen: your gallery
Have we passed through, not without much content
In many singularities; but we saw not
That which my daughter came to look upon,—
The statue of her mother.
Paul.
As she liv'd peerless,
So her dead likeness, I do well believe,
Excels whatever yet you look'd upon.
Here it is: prepare
To see the life as lively mock'd, as ever
Still sleep mock'd death: behold; and say, 'tis well.
[Paulina undraws a curtain, and discovers a statue.
I like your silence, it the more shows off
Your wonder: But yet speak;—first, you, my liege.
Comes it not something near?
Leon.
Her natural posture!—
Chide me, dear stone; that I may say, indeed,
Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she,
In thy not chiding: for she was as tender
-- 97 --
As infancy and grace.—O, thus she stood,
Even with such life of majesty, when first I woo'd her!
Does not the stone rebuke me,
For being more stone than it?
There's magic in thy majesty, which has
My evils conjur'd to remembrance; and
From thy admiring daughter took the spirits,
Standing like stone with thee!
Paul.
Indeed, my lord,
If I had thought the sight of my poor image
Would thus have wrought5 note you,
I'd not have show'd it.
[Going to draw the curtain.
Leon.
Do not draw the curtain.
Paul.
No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy
May think anon it moves.
Leon.
Let be, let be.
Would I were dead, but that methinks, already,
I am but dead, stone looking upon stone:6 note
What was he that did make it?—See, my lord,
Would you not deem, it breath'd? and that those veins
Did verily bear blood?
Pol.
Masterly done:
The very life seems warm upon her lip.
Leon.
The fixure of her eye has motion in't,
As we are mock'd with art.
Paul.
I'll draw the curtain;
My lord's almost so far transported, that
He'll think anon it lives.
Leon.
Make me to think so twenty years together;
No settled senses of the world can match
The pleasure of that madness. Let't alone.
Paul.
I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but
I could afflict you further.
Leon.
Do, Paulina;
For this affliction has a taste as sweet
As any cordial comfort.—Still, methinks,
There is an air comes from her: What fine chisel
-- 98 --
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
For I will kiss her.
Paul.
Good my lord, forbear:
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet;
You'll mar it, if you kiss it: Shall I draw the curtain?
Leon.
No, not these twenty years.
Per.
So long could I
Stand by, a looker-on.
Paul.
Either forbear,
Quit presently the chapel; or resolve you
For more amazement: If you can behold it,
I'll make the statue move indeed; descend,
And take you by the hand: but then you'll think
(Which I protest against,) I am assisted
By wicked powers.
Leon.
What you can make her do,
I am content to look on: what to speak,
I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy
To make her speak, as move.
Paul.
It is requir'd,
You do awake your faith: Then, all stand still;
Or those, that think it is unlawful business
I am about, let them depart.
Leon.
Proceed;
No foot shall stir.
Paul.
Music; awake her: strike.—
[Music.
'Tis time; descend; be stone no more: approach;
Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come;
[Hermione comes down from the pedestal.
Start not: her actions shall be holy, as,
You hear, my spell is lawful: Nay, present your hand.
Leon.
O, she's warm!
[Embracing her.
If this be magic, let it be an art
Lawful as eating.
Pol.
She embraces him.
Cam.
She hangs about his neck;
If she pertain to life, let her speak too.
Pol.
Ay, and make't manifest where she has liv'd,
Or, how stol'n from the dead?
-- 99 --
Paul.
Mark a little while.—
Please you to interpose, fair madam; kneel,
And pray your mother's blessing.—Turn, good lady;
Our Perdita is found.
[Presenting Perdita who kneels to Hermione.
Her.
You gods, look down,
And from your sacred vials pour your graces7 note
Upon my daughter's head!—Tell me, mine own,
Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd? how found
Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that I,—
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle
Gave hope thou wast in being,—have preserv'd myself,
To see the issue.
Paul.
There's time enough for that;
Lest they desire, upon this push, to trouble
Your joys with like relation.—Go together,
You precious winners all;8 note your exultation
Partake to every one.9 note
Leon.
Let's from this place.—
What?—Look upon my brother:—both your pardons,
That e'er I put between your holy looks
My ill suspicion.—This your son-in-law,
And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,)
Is troth-plight to your daughter.—Good Paulina,
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd: Hastily lead way.
[Exeunt.
END OF ACT FIFTH.
-- 100 --
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT FIFTH.
note
-- 101 --
note
note
