A Winters Tale

ACT III

SCENE I. A sea-port in Sicilia.

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-deafening 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 the 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. 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 beloved. 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. Silence!

Enter HERMIONE guarded, PAULINA and Ladies attending

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 a 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 received. 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, which is more

Than history can pattern, though devised

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 to appear thus: 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!

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,

Through '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 accused, I do confess

I loved him as in honour he required,

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,

Even 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 its most innocent mouth,

Haled out to murder: myself on every post

Proclaimed a strumpet: with immodest hatred

The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs

To women of all fashion, lastly, hurried

Here to this place, i' the 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 rigor 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 Apollos 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

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

Of great Apollo's priest, and that, since then,

You have not dared to break the holy seal

Nor read the secrets in't.

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' the oracle:

The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood.

Enter 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'ercharged, she will recover:

I have too much believed 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 't and being done: he, most humane

And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest

Unclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here,

Which you knew great, and to the hazard

Of all encertainties himself commended,

No richer than his honour: how he glisters

Thorough my rust! and how his pity

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 powers forbid!

PAULINA

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

Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring

Tincture or 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 deserved

All tongues to talk their bitterest.

First Lord

Say no more:

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault

I' the 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 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

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

Unto these sorrows.

Exeunt

SCENE III. Bohemia. A desert country near the sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS with a 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' the 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' the business.

Exit

ANTIGONUS

Come, poor babe:

I have heard, but not believed,

the spirits o' the 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.' And 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 squared 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!

There lie, and there thy character: there these,

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 exposed

To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot,

But my heart bleeds, and most accursed 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. A savage clamour!

Well may I get aboard! This is the chase:

I am gone for ever.

Exit, pursued by a bear

Enter a Shepherd

Shepherd

I would there were no age between sixteen 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--Hark you now! Would any but

these boiled 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 seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy

will what have we here! 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 hallooed

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

ailest 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 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 main-mast, and anon

swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld 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-dragoned

it: but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the

sea mocked them, and how the poor gentleman roared

and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than

the sea or weather.

Shepherd

Name of mercy, when was this, boy?

Clown

Now, now: I have not 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.

Shepherd

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

Clown

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

helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing.

Shepherd

Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here,

boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things

dying, I with things newborn. 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 the

sight of him.

Clown

Marry, will I, and you shall help to put him i' the ground.

Shepherd

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

Exeunt