The Winter's Tale

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

Enter CLEOMENES and DION

 
  CLEOMENES. The climate's delicate, the air most sweet,
    Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing
    The common praise it bears.
  DION. I shall report,
    For most it caught me, the celestial habits-
    Methinks I so should term them- and the reverence
    Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
    How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly,
    It was i' th' off'ring!
  CLEOMENES. But of all, the burst
    And the ear-deaf'ning voice o' th' oracle,
    Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd my sense
    That I was nothing.
  DION. If th' event o' th' journey
    Prove as successful to the Queen- O, be't so! -
    As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy,
    The time is worth the use on't.
  CLEOMENES. Great Apollo
    Turn all to th' best! These proclamations,
    So forcing faults upon Hermione,
    I little like.
  DION. The violent carriage of it
    Will clear or end the business. When the oracle-
    Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up-
    Shall the contents discover, something rare
    Even then will rush to knowledge. Go; fresh horses.
    And gracious be the issue! Exeunt
 

SCENE II. Sicilia. A court of justice

Enter LEONTES, LORDS, and OFFICERS

 
  LEONTES. This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce,
    Even pushes 'gainst our heart- the party tried,
    The daughter of a king, our wife, and one
    Of us too much belov'd. Let us be clear'd
    Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
    Proceed in justice, which shall have due course,
    Even to the guilt or the purgation.
    Produce the prisoner.
  OFFICER. It is his Highness' pleasure that the Queen
    Appear in person here in court.
 

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

 
    Silence!
  LEONTES. Read the indictment.
  OFFICER. [Reads] 'Hermione, Queen to the worthy Leontes, King
of
    Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason,
in
    committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia; and
    conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our
sovereign
    lord the King, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being
by
    circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to
the
    faith and allegiance of true subject, didst counsel and aid
them,
    for their better safety, to fly away by night.'
  HERMIONE. Since what I am to say must be but that
    Which contradicts my accusation, and
    The testimony on my part no other
    But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me
    To say 'Not guilty.' Mine integrity
    Being counted falsehood shall, as I express it,
    Be so receiv'd. But thus- if pow'rs divine
    Behold our human actions, as they do,
    I doubt not then but innocence shall make
    False accusation blush, and tyranny
    Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know-
    Who least will seem to do so- my past life
    Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
    As I am now unhappy; which is more
    Than history can pattern, though devis'd
    And play'd to take spectators; for behold me-
    A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
    A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
    The mother to a hopeful prince- here standing
    To prate and talk for life and honour fore
    Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
    As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for honour,
    'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
    And only that I stand for. I appeal
    To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
    Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
    How merited to be so; since he came,
    With what encounter so uncurrent I
    Have strain'd t' appear thus; if one jot beyond
    The bound of honour, or in act or will
    That way inclining, hard'ned be the hearts
    Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
    Cry fie upon my grave!
  LEONTES. I ne'er heard yet
    That any of these bolder vices wanted
    Less impudence to gainsay what they did
    Than to perform it first.
  HERMIONE. That's true enough;
    Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.
  LEONTES. You will not own it.
  HERMIONE. More than mistress of
    Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
    At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,
    With whom I am accus'd, I do confess
    I lov'd him as in honour he requir'd;
    With such a kind of love as might become
    A lady like me; with a love even such,
    So and no other, as yourself commanded;
    Which not to have done, I think had been in me
    Both disobedience and ingratitude
    To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke,
    Ever since it could speak, from an infant, freely,
    That it was yours. Now for conspiracy:
    I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'd
    For me to try how; all I know of it
    Is that Camillo was an honest man;
    And why he left your court, the gods themselves,
    Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.
  LEONTES. You knew of his departure, as you know
    What you have underta'en to do in's absence.
  HERMIONE. Sir,
    You speak a language that I understand not.
    My life stands in the level of your dreams,
    Which I'll lay down.
  LEONTES. Your actions are my dreams.
    You had a bastard by Polixenes,
    And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame-
    Those of your fact are so- so past all truth;
    Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as
    Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
    No father owning it- which is indeed
    More criminal in thee than it- so thou
    Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage
    Look for no less than death.
  HERMIONE. Sir, spare your threats.
    The bug which you would fright me with I seek.
    To me can life be no commodity.
    The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,
    I do give lost, for I do feel it gone,
    But know not how it went; my second joy
    And first fruits of my body, from his presence
    I am barr'd, like one infectious; my third comfort,
    Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast-
    The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth-
    Hal'd out to murder; myself on every post
    Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred
    The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
    To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried
    Here to this place, i' th' open air, before
    I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
    Tell me what blessings I have here alive
    That I should fear to die. Therefore proceed.
    But yet hear this- mistake me not: no life,
    I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour
    Which I would free- if I shall be condemn'd
    Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else
    But what your jealousies awake, I tell you
    'Tis rigour, and not law. Your honours all,
    I do refer me to the oracle:
    Apollo be my judge!
  FIRST LORD. This your request
    Is altogether just. Therefore, bring forth,
    And in Apollo's name, his oracle.
                                         Exeunt certain OFFICERS
  HERMIONE. The Emperor of Russia was my father;
    O that he were alive, and here beholding
    His daughter's trial! that he did but see
    The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes
    Of pity, not revenge!
 

Re-enter OFFICERS, with CLEOMENES and DION

 
  OFFICER. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice
    That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
    Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought
    This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd
    Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then
    You have not dar'd to break the holy seal
    Nor read the secrets in't.
  CLEOMENES, DION. All this we swear.
  LEONTES. Break up the seals and read.
  OFFICER. [Reads] 'Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless;
    Camillo a true subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his
innocent
    babe truly begotten; and the King shall live without an heir,
if
    that which is lost be not found.'
  LORDS. Now blessed be the great Apollo!
  HERMIONE. Praised!
  LEONTES. Hast thou read truth?
  OFFICER. Ay, my lord; even so
    As it is here set down.
  LEONTES. There is no truth at all i' th' oracle.
    The sessions shall proceed. This is mere falsehood.
 

Enter a SERVANT

 
  SERVANT. My lord the King, the King!
  LEONTES. What is the business?
  SERVANT. O sir, I shall be hated to report it:
    The Prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
    Of the Queen's speed, is gone.
  LEONTES. How! Gone?
  SERVANT. Is dead.
  LEONTES. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves
    Do strike at my injustice. [HERMIONE swoons]
    How now, there!
  PAULINA. This news is mortal to the Queen. Look down
    And see what death is doing.
  LEONTES. Take her hence.
    Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover.
    I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion.
    Beseech you tenderly apply to her
    Some remedies for life.
                         Exeunt PAULINA and LADIES with HERMIONE
    Apollo, pardon
    My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle.
    I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,
    New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo-
    Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy.
    For, being transported by my jealousies
    To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
    Camillo for the minister to poison
    My friend Polixenes; which had been done
    But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
    My swift command, though I with death and with
    Reward did threaten and encourage him,
    Not doing it and being done. He, most humane
    And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest
    Unclasp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here,
    Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard
    Of all incertainties himself commended,
    No richer than his honour. How he glisters
    Thorough my rust! And how his piety
    Does my deeds make the blacker!
 

Re-enter PAULINA

 
  PAULINA. Woe the while!
    O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,
    Break too!
  FIRST LORD. What fit is this, good lady?
  PAULINA. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
    What wheels, racks, fires? what flaying, boiling
    In leads or oils? What old or newer torture
    Must I receive, whose every word deserves
    To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny
    Together working with thy jealousies,
    Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
    For girls of nine- O, think what they have done,
    And then run mad indeed, stark mad; for all
    Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
    That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing;
    That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,
    And damnable ingrateful. Nor was't much
    Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
    To have him kill a king- poor trespasses,
    More monstrous standing by; whereof I reckon
    The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter
    To be or none or little, though a devil
    Would have shed water out of fire ere done't;
    Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
    Of the young Prince, whose honourable thoughts-
    Thoughts high for one so tender- cleft the heart
    That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
    Blemish'd his gracious dam. This is not, no,
    Laid to thy answer; but the last- O lords,
    When I have said, cry 'Woe!'– the Queen, the Queen,
    The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead; and vengeance
    For't not dropp'd down yet.
  FIRST LORD. The higher pow'rs forbid!
  PAULINA. I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath
    Prevail not, go and see. If you can bring
    Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye,
    Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you
    As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!
    Do not repent these things, for they are heavier
    Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee
    To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
    Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
    Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
    In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
    To look that way thou wert.
  LEONTES. Go on, go on.
    Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
    All tongues to talk their bitt'rest.
  FIRST LORD. Say no more;
    Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
    I' th' boldness of your speech.
  PAULINA. I am sorry for't.
    All faults I make, when I shall come to know them.
    I do repent. Alas, I have show'd too much
    The rashness of a woman! He is touch'd
    To th' noble heart. What's gone and what's past help
    Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction
    At my petition; I beseech you, rather
    Let me be punish'd that have minded you
    Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
    Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman.
    The love I bore your queen- lo, fool again!
    I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
    I'll not remember you of my own lord,
    Who is lost too. Take your patience to you,
    And I'll say nothing.
  LEONTES. Thou didst speak but well
    When most the truth; which I receive much better
    Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me
    To the dead bodies of my queen and son.
    One grave shall be for both. Upon them shall
    The causes of their death appear, unto
    Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit
    The chapel where they lie; and tears shed there
    Shall be my recreation. So long as nature
    Will bear up with this exercise, so long
    I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me
    To these sorrows. Exeunt
 

SCENE III. Bohemia. The sea-coast

Enter ANTIGONUS with the CHILD, and a MARINER

 
  ANTIGONUS. Thou art perfect then our ship hath touch'd upon
    The deserts of Bohemia?
  MARINER. Ay, my lord, and fear
    We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly
    And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,
    The heavens with that we have in hand are angry
    And frown upon 's.
  ANTIGONUS. Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard;
    Look to thy bark. I'll not be long before
    I call upon thee.
  MARINER. Make your best haste; and go not
    Too far i' th' land; 'tis like to be loud weather;
    Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
    Of prey that keep upon't.
  ANTIGONUS. Go thou away;
    I'll follow instantly.
  MARINER. I am glad at heart
    To be so rid o' th' business. Exit
  ANTIGONUS. Come, poor babe.
    I have heard, but not believ'd, the spirits o' th' dead
    May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother
    Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream
    So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
    Sometimes her head on one side some another-
    I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
    So fill'd and so becoming; in pure white robes,
    Like very sanctity, she did approach
    My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me;
    And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
    Became two spouts; the fury spent, anon
    Did this break from her: 'Good Antigonus,
    Since fate, against thy better disposition,
    Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
    Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,
    Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
    There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe
    Is counted lost for ever, Perdita
    I prithee call't. For this ungentle business,
    Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
    Thy wife Paulina more.' so, with shrieks,
    She melted into air. Affrighted much,
    I did in time collect myself, and thought
    This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys;
    Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,
    I will be squar'd by this. I do believe
    Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that
    Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
    Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid,
    Either for life or death, upon the earth
    Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well!
                                         [Laying down the child]
    There lie, and there thy character; there these
                                          [Laying down a bundle]
    Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty,
    And still rest thine. The storm begins. Poor wretch,
    That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd
    To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot,
    But my heart bleeds; and most accurs'd am I
    To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell!
    The day frowns more and more. Thou'rt like to have
    A lullaby too rough; I never saw
    The heavens so dim by day. [Noise of hunt within] A savage
      clamour!
    Well may I get aboard! This is the chase;
    I am gone for ever. Exit, pursued by a bear
 

Enter an old SHEPHERD

 
  SHEPHERD. I would there were no age between ten and three and
    twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is
    nothing in the between but getting wenches with child,
wronging
    the ancientry, stealing, fighting- [Horns] Hark you now!
Would
    any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two and twenty
hunt
    this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep,
which I
    fear the wolf will sooner find than the master. If any where
I
    have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck,
an't
    be thy will! What have we here? [Taking up the child] Mercy
    on's, a barne! A very pretty barne. A boy or a child, I
wonder? A
    pretty one; a very pretty one- sure, some scape. Though I am
not
    bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape.
This
    has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some
behind-door-work;
    they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here.
I'll
    take it up for pity; yet I'll tarry till my son come; he
halloo'd
    but even now. Whoa-ho-hoa!
 

Enter CLOWN

 
  CLOWN. Hilloa, loa!
  SHEPHERD. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on
when
    thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'st thou, man?
  CLOWN. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! But I
am
    not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the
    firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.
  SHEPHERD. Why, boy, how is it?
  CLOWN. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how
it
    takes up the shore! But that's not to the point. O, the most
    piteous cry of the poor souls! Sometimes to see 'em, and not
to
    see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast, and
anon
    swallowed with yeast and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a
    hogshead. And then for the land service- to see how the bear
tore
    out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said
his
    name was Antigonus, a nobleman! But to make an end of the
ship-
    to see how the sea flap-dragon'd it; but first, how the poor
    souls roared, and the sea mock'd them; and how the poor
gentleman
    roared, and the bear mock'd him, both roaring louder than the
sea
    or weather.
  SHEPHERD. Name of mercy, when was this, boy?
  CLOWN. Now, now; I have not wink'd since I saw these sights;
the
    men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half din'd on
the
    gentleman; he's at it now.
  SHEPHERD. Would I had been by to have help'd the old man!
  CLOWN. I would you had been by the ship-side, to have help'd
her;
    there your charity would have lack'd footing.
  SHEPHERD. Heavy matters, heavy matters! But look thee here,
boy.
    Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying, I with
things
    new-born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth
for
    a squire's child! Look thee here; take up, take up, boy;
open't.
    So, let's see- it was told me I should be rich by the
fairies.
    This is some changeling. Open't. What's within, boy?
  CLOWN. You're a made old man; if the sins of your youth are
    forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!
  SHEPHERD. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. Up
with't,
    keep it close. Home, home, the next way! We are lucky, boy;
and
    to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go.
    Come, good boy, the next way home.
  CLOWN. Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if
the
    bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten.
They
    are never curst but when they are hungry. If there be any of
him
    left, I'll bury it.
  SHEPHERD. That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that
which
    is left of him what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him.
  CLOWN. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' th'
ground.
  SHEPHERD. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't.
 

Exeunt