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- Herausgeber: Musaicum Books
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
'THE WINTER'S TALE' collects a resonant array of interpretations and scholarly essays rooted deeply in the analysis of William Shakespeare's play, elucidating its complex narrative and thematic intricacies. This anthology sets itself apart by offering various critical lenses, showcasing a broad spectrum of literary styles from traditional close readings to more contemporary theoretical approaches. The anthology not only explores the emotional and psychological depth of Shakespeare's characters but also contextualizes the play within its late Jacobean environment, shedding light on its unique blend of tragedy and comedy, and its exploration of themes such as redemption and the dynamics of time. The contributors, including eminent Shakespearean scholar Sidney Lee, bring a rich diversity of backgrounds, from academic critics to seasoned theater practitioners. Collectively, their essays reflect the shifting paradigms in Shakespearean scholarship and performance interpretation, aligning with movements such as New Historicism and Feminist Criticism. This fusion of perspectives provides a comprehensive understanding of 'The Winter's Tale,' addressing its historical ambiguities and cultural significance, and encouraging a re-evaluation of its place in Shakespeare's oeuvre. This anthology is indispensable for students, scholars, and enthusiasts eager to deepen their comprehension of Shakespearean drama. It offers a profound journey through varying critical landscapes, inviting readers to engage with each essay's unique insights into 'The Winter's Tale.' Delving into this collection promises not just academic enrichment but also a greater appreciation of one of Shakespeare's most enigmatic plays, encouraging a robust dialogue among the varied scholarly voices it encapsulates.
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THE WINTER'S TALE
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Table of Contents
The Winter's Tale
Dramatis Personae
LEONTES, King of Sicilia MAMILLIUS, his son CAMILLO, Sicilian Lord ANTIGONUS, Sicilian Lord CLEOMENES, Sicilian Lord DION, Sicilian Lord POLIXENES, King of Bohemia FLORIZEL, his son ARCHIDAMUS, a Bohemian Lord An Old Shepherd, reputed father of Perdita CLOWN, his son AUTOLYCUS, a rogue A Mariner Gaoler Servant to the Old Shepherd Other Sicilian Lords Sicilian Gentlemen Officers of a Court of Judicature HERMIONE, Queen to Leontes PERDITA, daughter to Leontes and Hermione PAULINA, wife to Antigonus EMILIA, a lady attending on the Queen MOPSA, shepherdess DORCAS, shepherdess Other Ladies, attending on the Queen Lords, Ladies, and Attendants; Satyrs for a Dance; Shepherds, Shepherdesses, Guards, &c. TIME, as Chorus Scene: Sometimes in Sicilia; sometimes in Bohemia.
ACT I.
SCENE I. Sicilia. An Antechamber in LEONTES’ Palace.
[Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS] ARCHIDAMUS If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia. CAMILLO I think this coming summer the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him. ARCHIDAMUS Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be justified in our loves; for indeed,— CAMILLO Beseech you,— ARCHIDAMUS Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence—in so rare—I know not what to say.—We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us. CAMILLO You pay a great deal too dear for what’s given freely. ARCHIDAMUS Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance. CAMILLO Sicilia cannot show himself overkind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embraced as it were from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves! ARCHIDAMUS I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note. CAMILLO I very well agree with you in the hopes of him. It is a gallant child; one that indeed physics the subject, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to see him a man. ARCHIDAMUS Would they else be content to die? CAMILLO Yes, if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live. ARCHIDAMUS If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The same. A Room of State in the Palace.
[Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, CAMILLO, and Attendants.] POLIXENES Nine changes of the watery star hath been The shepherd’s note since we have left our throne 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 cipher, Yet standing in rich place, I multiply With one we-thank-you many thousands more That go before it. LEONTES Stay your thanks a while, And pay them when you part. POLIXENES Sir, that’s tomorrow. I am question’d by my fears, of what may chance Or breed upon our absence; that may blow No sneaping winds at home, to make us say, ‘This is put forth too truly.’ Besides, I have stay’d To tire your royalty. LEONTES We are tougher, brother, Than you can put us to’t. POLIXENES No longer stay. LEONTES One seven-night longer. POLIXENES Very sooth, tomorrow. LEONTES We’ll part the time between ‘s then: and in that I’ll no gainsaying. POLIXENES 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 denied it. My affairs Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder, Were, in your love a whip to me; my stay To you a charge and trouble: to save both, Farewell, our brother. LEONTES Tongue-tied, our queen? Speak you. HERMIONE 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 Bohemia’s well: this satisfaction The by-gone day proclaimed: say this to him, He’s beat from his best ward. LEONTES Well said, Hermione. HERMIONE 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, We’ll thwack him hence with distaffs.— [To POLIXENES] Yet of your royal presence I’ll adventure The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia You take my lord, I’ll give him my commission To let him there a month behind the gest Prefix’d for’s parting:—yet, good deed, Leontes, I love thee not a jar of the clock behind What lady she her lord.—You’ll stay? POLIXENES No, madam. HERMIONE Nay, but you will? POLIXENES I may not, verily. HERMIONE Verily! You put me off with limber 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 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. POLIXENES Your guest, then, madam: To be your prisoner should import offending; Which is for me less easy to commit Than you to punish. HERMIONE 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 lordings then. POLIXENES We were, fair queen, Two lads that thought there was no more behind But such a day tomorrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. HERMIONE Was not my lord the verier wag o’ the two? POLIXENES We were as twinn’d lambs that did frisk i’ the sun And bleat the one at th’ other. What we chang’d Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream’d That any did. Had we pursu’d 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. HERMIONE By this we gather You have tripp’d since. POLIXENES O my most sacred lady, Temptations have since then been born to ‘s! for In those unfledg’d days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had then not cross’d the eyes Of my young playfellow. HERMIONE 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; If you first sinn’d with us, and that with us You did continue fault, and that you slipp’d not With any but with us. LEONTES Is he won yet? HERMIONE He’ll stay, my lord. LEONTES At my request he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok’st To better purpose. HERMIONE Never? LEONTES Never but once. HERMIONE What! have I twice said well? when was’t before? I pr’ythee tell me; cram ‘s with praise, and make ‘s As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages; you may ride ‘s With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal:— My last good deed was to entreat his stay; What was my first? it has an elder sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace! But once before I spoke to the purpose—when? Nay, let me have’t; I long. LEONTES Why, that was when Three crabbèd months had sour’d themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter ‘I am yours for ever.’ HERMIONE It is Grace indeed. Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice; The one for ever earn’d a royal husband; Th’ other for some while a friend. [Giving her hand to POLIXENES.] LEONTES [Aside.] Too hot, too hot! 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, fertile bosom, And well become the agent: ‘t 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: O, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows,—Mamillius, Art thou my boy? MAMILLIUS Ay, my good lord. LEONTES I’ fecks! Why, that’s my bawcock. What! hast smutch’d thy nose?— They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat;—not neat, but cleanly, captain: And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf, Are all call’d neat.— [Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE] Still virginalling Upon his palm?—How now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf? MAMILLIUS Yes, if you will, my lord. LEONTES Thou want’st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have, To be full like me:—yet they say we are Almost as like as eggs; women say so, That will say anything: but were they false As o’er-dy’d blacks, as wind, as waters,—false As dice are to be wish’d by one that fixes No bourn ‘twixt his and mine; yet were it true To say this boy were like me.—Come, sir page, Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain! Most dear’st! my collop!—Can thy dam?—may’t be? Affection! thy intention stabs the centre: Thou dost make possible things not so held, Communicat’st with dreams;—how can this be?— With what’s unreal thou co-active art, And fellow’st nothing: then ‘tis very credent Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost,— And that beyond commission; and I find it,— And that to the infection of my brains And hardening of my brows. POLIXENES What means Sicilia? HERMIONE He something seems unsettled. POLIXENES How! my lord! What cheer? How is’t with you, best brother? HERMIONE You look As if you held a brow of much distraction: Are you mov’d, my lord? LEONTES No, in good earnest.— How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines Of my boy’s face, methoughts I did recoil Twenty-three years; and saw myself unbreech’d, In my green velvet coat; 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, This squash, this gentleman.—Mine honest friend, Will you take eggs for money? MAMILLIUS No, my lord, I’ll fight. LEONTES You will? Why, happy man be ‘s dole!—My brother, Are you so fond of your young prince as we Do seem to be of ours? POLIXENES 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. LEONTES 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; Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: Next to thyself and my young rover, he’s Apparent to my heart. HERMIONE If you would seek us, We are yours i’ the garden. Shall ‘s attend you there? LEONTES To your own bents dispose you: you’ll be found, Be you beneath the sky. [Aside] I am angling now. Though you perceive me not how I give line. Go to, go to! [Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE] How she holds up the neb, the bill to him! And arms her with the boldness of a wife To her allowing husband! [Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants.] Gone already! Inch-thick, knee-deep, o’er head and ears a fork’d one!— 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 knell.—Go, play, boy, play.—There have been, Or I am much deceiv’d, cuckolds ere now; And many a man there is, even at this present, Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm That little thinks she has been sluic’d in his absence, And his pond fish’d by his next neighbour, by Sir Smile, his neighbour; nay, there’s comfort in’t, Whiles other men have gates, and those gates open’d, As mine, against their will: should all despair That hath revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Physic for’t there’s none; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Where ‘tis predominant; and ‘tis powerful, think it, From east, west, north, and south: be it concluded, No barricado for a belly: know’t; It will let in and out the enemy With bag and baggage. Many thousand of us Have the disease, and feel’t not.—How now, boy! MAMILLIUS I am like you, they say. LEONTES Why, that’s some comfort.— What! Camillo there? CAMILLO Ay, my good lord. LEONTES Go play, Mamillius; thou’rt an honest man.— [Exit MAMILLIUS.] Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. CAMILLO You had much ado to make his anchor hold: When you cast out, it still came home. LEONTES Didst note it? CAMILLO He would not stay at your petitions; made His business more material. LEONTES Didst perceive it?— [Aside.] They’re here with me already; whispering, rounding, ‘Sicilia is a so-forth.’ ‘Tis far gone When I shall gust it last.—How came’t, Camillo, That he did stay? CAMILLO At the good queen’s entreaty. LEONTES 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? by some severals Of headpiece extraordinary? lower messes Perchance are to this business purblind? say. CAMILLO Business, my lord! I think most understand Bohemia stays here longer. LEONTES Ha! CAMILLO Stays here longer. LEONTES Ay, but why? CAMILLO To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress. LEONTES Satisfy Th’ 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, wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleans’d my bosom; I from thee departed Thy penitent reform’d: but we have been Deceiv’d in thy integrity, deceiv’d In that which seems so. CAMILLO Be it forbid, my lord! LEONTES To bide upon’t,—thou art not honest; or, If thou inclin’st that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From course requir’d; or else thou must be counted 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. CAMILLO My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful; In every one of these no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, fear, Among the infinite doings of the world, Sometime puts forth: 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, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the nonperformance, ‘twas a fear Which oft affects 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. LEONTES Have not you seen, Camillo,— But that’s past doubt: you have, or your eye-glass Is thicker than a cuckold’s horn,—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 My wife’s a hobby-horse; deserves a name As rank as any flax-wench that puts to Before her troth-plight: say’t and justify’t. CAMILLO 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. LEONTES Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? Stopping the career Of laughter with a sigh?—a note infallible Of breaking honesty;—horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift; Hours, minutes; noon, midnight? and all eyes Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only, 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; Bohemia nothing; My is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing. CAMILLO Good my lord, be cur’d Of this diseas’d opinion, and betimes; For ‘tis most dangerous. LEONTES Say it be, ‘tis true. CAMILLO No, no, my lord. LEONTES It is; you lie, you lie: 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. CAMILLO Who does infect her? LEONTES Why, he that wears her like her medal, hanging About his neck, Bohemia: who—if I Had servants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine honour as their profits, Their own particular thrifts,—they would do that Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou, His cupbearer,—whom I from meaner form Have bench’d and rear’d to worship; who mayst see, Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven, How I am galled,—mightst bespice a cup, To give mine enemy a lasting wink; Which draught to me were cordial. CAMILLO Sir, my lord, I could do this; and that with no rash potion, But with a ling’ring dram, that should not work Maliciously like poison: but I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, So sovereignly being honourable. I have lov’d thee,— LEONTES 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 sheets,— 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? CAMILLO I must believe you, sir: I do; and will fetch off Bohemia 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. LEONTES Thou dost advise me Even so as I mine own course have set down: I’ll give no blemish to her honour, none. CAMILLO My lord, Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen: I am his cupbearer. If from me he have wholesome beverage, Account me not your servant. LEONTES This is all: Do’t, and thou hast the one-half of my heart; Do’t not, thou splitt’st thine own. CAMILLO I’ll do’t, my lord. LEONTES I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis’d me. [Exit.] CAMILLO 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, 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 Bohemia. [Enter POLIXENES.] POLIXENES This is strange! methinks My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?— Good-day, Camillo. CAMILLO Hail, most royal sir! POLIXENES What is the news i’ the court? CAMILLO None rare, my lord. POLIXENES 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; So leaves me to consider what is breeding That changes thus his manners. CAMILLO I dare not know, my lord. POLIXENES How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not Be intelligent to me? ‘Tis thereabouts; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must, And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your chang’d complexions are to me a mirror Which shows me mine chang’d too; for I must be A party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter’d with’t. CAMILLO 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. POLIXENES 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,— As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto Clerk-like, experienc’d, which no less adorns Our gentry than our parents’ noble names, In whose success we are gentle,—I beseech you, If you know aught which does behove my knowledge Thereof to be inform’d, imprison’t not In ignorant concealment. CAMILLO I may not answer. POLIXENES A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answer’d.—Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee, by all the parts of man 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. CAMILLO Sir, I will tell you; Since I am charg’d in honour, and by him That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel, Which must be ev’n as swiftly follow’d as I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me Cry lost, and so goodnight! POLIXENES On, good Camillo. CAMILLO I am appointed him to murder you. POLIXENES By whom, Camillo? CAMILLO By the king. POLIXENES For what? CAMILLO He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, As he had seen’t or been an instrument To vice you to’t, that you have touch’d his queen Forbiddenly. POLIXENES O, then my best blood turn To an infected jelly, and my name Be yok’d with his that did betray the best! Turn then my freshest reputation to A savour that may strike the dullest nostril Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn’d, Nay, hated too, worse than the great’st infection That e’er was heard or read! CAMILLO Swear his thought over By each particular star in heaven and By all their influences, you may as well Forbid the sea for to obey the moon As, or by oath remove, or counsel shake The fabric of his folly, whose foundation Is pil’d upon his faith, and will continue The standing of his body. POLIXENES How should this grow? CAMILLO 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 enclosèd in this trunk, which you Shall bear along impawn’d,—away tonight. Your followers I will whisper to the business; And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns, Clear them o’ the city: 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. POLIXENES 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.—This jealousy Is for a precious creature: as she’s rare, Must it be great; and, as his person’s mighty, Must it be violent; and as he does conceive He is dishonour’d by a man which ever Profess’d to him, why, his revenges must In that be made more bitter. Fear o’ershades me; Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious queen, part of this theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta’en suspicion! Come, Camillo; I will respect thee as a father, if Thou bear’st my life off hence: let us avoid. CAMILLO 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.]
ACT II.
SCENE I. Sicilia. A Room in the Palace.
[Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies.] HERMIONE Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, ‘Tis past enduring. FIRST LADY Come, my gracious lord, Shall I be your playfellow? MAMILLIUS No, I’ll none of you. FIRST LADY Why, my sweet lord? MAMILLIUS You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if I were a baby still.—[To Second Lady.] I love you better. SECOND LADY And why so, my lord? MAMILLIUS Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best; so that there be not Too much hair there, but in a semicircle Or a half-moon made with a pen. SECOND LADY Who taught you this? MAMILLIUS I learn’d it out of women’s faces.—Pray now, What colour are your eyebrows? FIRST LADY Blue, my lord. MAMILLIUS Nay, that’s a mock: I have seen a lady’s nose That has been blue, but not her eyebrows. FIRST LADY Hark ye: The queen your mother rounds apace. We shall Present our services to a fine new prince One of these days; and then you’d wanton with us, If we would have you. SECOND LADY She is spread of late Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her! HERMIONE What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now I am for you again: pray you sit by us, And tell ‘s a tale. MAMILLIUS Merry or sad shall’t be? HERMIONE As merry as you will. MAMILLIUS A sad tale’s best for winter. I have one Of sprites and goblins. HERMIONE Let’s have that, good sir. Come on, sit down;—come on, and do your best To fright me with your sprites: you’re powerful at it. MAMILLIUS There was a man,— HERMIONE Nay, come, sit down: then on. MAMILLIUS Dwelt by a churchyard:—I will tell it softly; Yond crickets shall not hear it. HERMIONE Come on then, And give’t me in mine ear. [Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and Guards.] LEONTES Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him? FIRST 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. LEONTES How bles’d am I In my just censure, in my true opinion!— Alack, for lesser knowledge!—How accurs’d In being so blest!—There may be in the cup A spider steep’d, and one may drink, depart, And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge Is not infected; but if one present The abhorr’d ingredient to his eye, make known How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, With violent hefts;—I have drunk, and seen the spider. 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; yea, a very trick For them to play at will.—How came the posterns So easily open? FIRST LORD By his great authority; Which often hath no less prevail’d than so, On your command. LEONTES 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. HERMIONE What is this? sport? LEONTES Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her; Away with him!—and let her sport herself With that she’s big with;—for ‘tis Polixenes Has made thee swell thus. [Exit MAMILLIUS, with some of the Guards.] HERMIONE But I’d say he had not, And I’ll be sworn you would believe my saying, Howe’er you learn the nayward. LEONTES You, my lords, 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:—O, I am out, That mercy does; for calumny will sear Virtue itself:—these shrugs, these hum’s, 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! HERMIONE 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. LEONTES 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 federary with her; and one that knows What she should shame to know herself But with her most vile principal, that she’s A bed-swerver, even as bad as those That vulgars give boldest titles; ay, and privy To this their late escape. HERMIONE 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. LEONTES No; if I mistake In those foundations which I build upon, The centre 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 But that he speaks. HERMIONE There’s some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspéct more favourable.—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! LEONTES [To the GUARD.] Shall I be heard? HERMIONE Who is’t that goes with me?—Beseech your highness My women may be with me; for, you see, 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 As I come out: this action I now go on 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. LEONTES Go, do our bidding; hence! [Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies, with Guards.] FIRST LORD Beseech your highness, call the queen again. ANTIGONUS Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer, Yourself, your queen, your son. FIRST 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 I’ the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean In this which you accuse her. ANTIGONUS If it prove She’s otherwise, I’ll keep my stables where I lodge my wife; I’ll go in couples with her; Than when I feel and see her no further trust her; For every inch of woman in the world, Ay, every dram of woman’s flesh, is false, If she be. LEONTES Hold your peaces. FIRST LORD Good my lord,— ANTIGONUS It is for you we speak, not for ourselves: You are abus’d, and by some putter-on That will be damn’d for’t: would I knew the villain, I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw’d,— I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven; The second and the third, nine and some five; If this prove true, they’ll pay for’t. By mine honour, I’ll geld ‘em all: fourteen they shall not see, To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; And I had rather glib myself than they Should not produce fair issue. LEONTES Cease; no more. You smell this business with a sense as cold As is a dead man’s nose: but I do see’t and feel’t As you feel doing thus; and see withal The instruments that feel. ANTIGONUS If it be so, We need no grave to bury honesty; There’s not a grain of it the face to sweeten Of the whole dungy earth. LEONTES What! Lack I credit? FIRST LORD 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. LEONTES Why, what need we Commune with you of this, but rather follow Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative Calls not your counsels; but our natural goodness Imparts this; which, if you,—or stupified Or seeming so in skill,—cannot or will not Relish a truth, like us, inform yourselves We need no more of your advice: the matter, The loss, the gain, the ord’ring on’t, is all Properly ours. ANTIGONUS And I wish, my liege, You had only in your silent judgment tried it, Without more overture. LEONTES How could that be? Either thou art most ignorant by age, Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo’s flight, Added to their familiarity,— Which was as gross as ever touch’d conjecture, That lack’d sight only, nought for approbation, But only seeing, all other circumstances Made up to th’ deed,—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 Delphos, to Apollo’s temple, Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know Of stuff’d sufficiency: now, from the oracle They will bring all, whose spiritual counsel had, Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well? FIRST LORD Well done, my lord,— LEONTES 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 th’ truth: so have we thought it good From our free person she should be confin’d; Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; We are to speak in public; for this business Will raise us all. ANTIGONUS [Aside.] To laughter, as I take it, If the good truth were known. [Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The same. The outer Room of a Prison.
[Enter PAULINA and Attendants.] PAULINA 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? KEEPER For a worthy lady, And one who much I honour. PAULINA Pray you, then, Conduct me to the queen. KEEPER I may not, madam; To the contrary I have express commandment. PAULINA Here’s ado, to lock up honesty and honour from The access of gentle visitors!—Is’t lawful, Pray you, to see her women? any of them? Emilia? KEEPER So please you, madam, to put Apart these your attendants, I Shall bring Emilia forth. PAULINA I pray now, call her. Withdraw yourselves. [Exeunt ATTENDANTS.] KEEPER And, madam, I must be present at your conference. PAULINA Well, be’t 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? EMILIA As well as one so great and so forlorn May hold together: on her frights and griefs,— Which never tender lady hath borne greater,— She is, something before her time, deliver’d. PAULINA A boy? EMILIA A daughter; and a goodly babe, Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives Much comfort in’t; says ‘My poor prisoner, I am as innocent as you.’ PAULINA I dare be sworn;— These dangerous unsafe lunes i’ the king, beshrew them! He must be told on’t, and he shall: the office Becomes a woman best; I’ll take’t upon me; If I prove honey-mouth’d, let my tongue blister; And never to my red-look’d anger be The trumpet any more.—Pray you, Emilia, Commend my best obedience to the queen; If she dares trust me with her little babe, I’ll show’t the king, and undertake to be Her advocate to th’ loud’st. We do not know How he may soften at the sight o’ the child: The silence often of pure innocence Persuades, when speaking fails. EMILIA Most worthy madam, Your honour and your goodness is so evident, That your free undertaking cannot miss A thriving issue: there is no lady living So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship To visit the next room, I’ll presently Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer; Who but to-day hammer’d of this design, But durst not tempt a minister of honour, Lest she should be denied. PAULINA Tell her, Emilia, I’ll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from it As boldness from my bosom, let’t not be doubted I shall do good. EMILIA Now be you bless’d for it! I’ll to the queen: please you come something nearer. KEEPER Madam, if ‘t please the queen to send the babe, I know not what I shall incur to pass it, Having no warrant. PAULINA You need not fear it, sir: This child was prisoner to the womb, and is, By law and process of great nature thence Freed and enfranchis’d: not a party to The anger of the king, nor guilty of, If any be, the trespass of the queen. KEEPER I do believe it. PAULINA Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I Will stand betwixt you and danger. [Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The same. A Room in the Palace.
[Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and other Attendants.] LEONTES Nor night nor day no rest: it is but weakness To bear the matter thus,—mere weakness. If The cause were not in being,—part o’ 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; but she I can hook to me:—say that she were gone, Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest Might come to me again.—Who’s there? FIRST ATTENDANT My lord? LEONTES How does the boy? FIRST ATTENDANT He took good rest tonight; ‘Tis hop’d his sickness is discharg’d. LEONTES To see his nobleness! Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, He straight declin’d, droop’d, took it deeply, Fasten’d and fix’d the shame on’t in himself, Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, And downright languish’d.—Leave me solely:—go, See how he fares.— [Exit FIRST ATTENDANT.] 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, with a Child.] FIRST LORD You must not enter. PAULINA Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me: Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, Than the queen’s life? a gracious innocent soul, More free than he is jealous. ANTIGONUS That’s enough. SECOND ATTENDANT Madam, he hath not slept tonight; commanded None should come at him. PAULINA Not so hot, good sir; I come to bring him sleep. ‘Tis such as you,— That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh At each his needless heavings,—such as you Nourish the cause of his awaking: I Do come, with words as med’cinal as true, Honest as either, to purge him of that humour That presses him from sleep. LEONTES What noise there, ho? PAULINA No noise, my lord; but needful conference About some gossips for your highness. LEONTES How!— Away with that audacious lady!—Antigonus, I charg’d thee that she should not come about me: I knew she would. ANTIGONUS I told her so, my lord, On your displeasure’s peril, and on mine, She should not visit you. LEONTES What, canst not rule her? PAULINA From all dishonesty he can: in this,— Unless he take the course that you have done, Commit me for committing honour,—trust it, He shall not rule me. ANTIGONUS La you now, you hear When she will take the rein, I let her run; But she’ll not stumble. PAULINA Good my liege, I come,— And, I beseech you, hear me, who professes Myself your loyal servant, your physician, Your most obedient counsellor: yet that dares Less appear so, in comforting your evils, Than such as most seem yours:—I say I come From your good queen. LEONTES Good queen! PAULINA Good queen, my lord, Good queen: I say, good queen; And would by combat make her good, so were I A man, the worst about you. LEONTES Force her hence! PAULINA Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes First hand me: on mine own accord I’ll off; But first I’ll do my errand—The good queen, For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter; Here ‘tis; commends it to your blessing. [Laying down the child.] LEONTES Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o’ door: A most intelligencing bawd! PAULINA Not so: I am as ignorant in that as you In so entitling me; and no less honest Than you are mad; which is enough, I’ll warrant, As this world goes, to pass for honest. LEONTES Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard:— Thou dotard! [To ANTIGONUS] Thou art woman-tir’d, unroosted By thy Dame Partlet here:—take up the bastard; Take’t up, I say; give’t to thy crone. PAULINA For ever Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Tak’st up the princess by that forced baseness Which he has put upon’t! LEONTES He dreads his wife. PAULINA So I would you did; then ‘twere past all doubt You’d call your children yours. LEONTES A nest of traitors? ANTIGONUS I am none, by this good light. PAULINA Nor I; nor any, But one that’s here; and that’s himself: for he The sacred honour of himself, his queen’s, His hopeful son’s, his babe’s, betrays to slander, Whose sting is sharper than the sword’s; and will not,— For, as the case now stands, it is a curse He cannot be compell’d to’t,—once remove The root of his opinion, which is rotten As ever oak or stone was sound. LEONTES A callat Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband, And now baits me!—This brat is none of mine; It is the issue of Polixenes: Hence with it! and together with the dam, Commit them to the fire. PAULINA It is yours! And, might we lay 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; nay, the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek; his smiles; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:— And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, ‘mongst all colours No yellow in’t, lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband’s! LEONTES A gross hag! And, losel, thou art worthy to be hang’d That wilt not stay her tongue. ANTIGONUS Hang all the husbands That cannot do that feat, you’ll leave yourself Hardly one subject. LEONTES Once more, take her hence. PAULINA A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. LEONTES I’ll have thee burn’d. PAULINA I care not. It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in’t. I’ll not call you tyrant But this most cruel usage of your queen,— Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hing’d fancy,—something savours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. LEONTES On your allegiance, Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? She durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her! PAULINA I pray you, do not push me; I’ll be gone.— Look to your babe, my lord; ‘tis yours: Jove send her A better guiding spirit!—What needs these hands? You that are thus so tender o’er his follies, Will never do him good, not one of you. So, so:—farewell; we are gone. [Exit.] LEONTES Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. My child?—away with’t.—even thou, that hast A heart so tender o’er it, take it hence, And see it instantly consum’d with fire; Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight: Within this hour bring me word ‘tis done,— And by good testimony,—or I’ll seize thy life, With that thou else call’st thine. If thou refuse, And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; The bastard-brains with these my proper hands Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; For thou set’st on thy wife. ANTIGONUS I did not, sir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in’t. LORDS We can:—my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. LEONTES You’re liars all. FIRST LORD Beseech your highness, give us better credit: We have always truly serv’d you; and beseech So to esteem of us: and on our knees we beg,— As recompense of our dear services, Past and to come,—that you do change this purpose, Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel. LEONTES I am a feather for each wind that blows:— Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel And call me father? better burn it now, Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live:— It shall not neither.—[To ANTIGONUS.] You, sir, come you hither: You that have been so tenderly officious With Lady Margery, your midwife, there, To save this bastard’s life,—for ‘tis a bastard, So sure as this beard’s grey,—what will you adventure To save this brat’s life? ANTIGONUS Anything, my lord, That my ability may undergo, And nobleness impose: at least, thus much; I’ll pawn the little blood which I have left To save the innocent:—anything possible. LEONTES It shall be possible. Swear by this sword Thou wilt perform my bidding. ANTIGONUS I will, my lord. LEONTES Mark, and perform it,—seest thou? for the fail Of any point in’t shall not only be Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu’d wife, Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee, As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it To some remote and desert place, quite out Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it, Without more mercy, to it own protection And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, On thy soul’s peril and thy body’s torture, That thou commend it strangely to some place Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up. ANTIGONUS I swear to do this, though a present death Had been more merciful.—Come on, poor babe: Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say, Casting their savageness aside, have done Like offices of pity.—Sir, be prosperous In more than this deed does require!—and blessing, Against this cruelty, fight on thy side, Poor thing, condemn’d to loss! [Exit with the child.] LEONTES No, I’ll not rear Another’s issue. SECOND ATTENDANT Please your highness, posts From those you sent to the oracle are come An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arriv’d from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to the court. FIRST LORD So please you, sir, their speed Hath been beyond account. LEONTES Twenty-three days They have been absent: ‘tis good speed; foretells The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; Summon a session, that we may arraign Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath Been publicly accus’d, so shall she have A just and open trial. While she lives, My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me; And think upon my bidding. [Exeunt.]
ACT III.
SCENE I. Sicilia. A Street in some Town.
[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’ the offering! CLEOMENES But of all, the burst And the ear-deaf’ning voice o’ the oracle, Kin to Jove’s thunder, so surprised my sense That I was nothing. DION If the event o’ the 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. The same. A Court of Justice.
[Enter LEONTES, Lords, and Officers appear, properly seated.] LEONTES This sessions,—to our great grief we pronounce,—
