Together working with thy jealousies,



so. ii. THE WINTER'S TALE. 35"i

Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle

For girls of nine, ! 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. 't was nothing

That did but show thee of a fool, inconstant,

And damnable ungrateful : 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 ! wherefore 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 don '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, 0, 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.

1 Lord. The higher powers forbid !

Paul. I say, she 's dead ; I '11 swear 't : if word, noi

oath,

Prevail not, go and see. If you can bring
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly, or breath within, I '11 serve you
As I would do the gods. But. thou tyrant !
Do not repent these things, for they arc 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.

Leon. Go on ; go on ;

Thou ca Qst not speak too much : I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.

1 Lord. Say no more :

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
[' the boldness of your speech.

Paul. I am sorry for 't :



358 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT m.

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 repetition. 1 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 '11 speak of her no more, nor of your children ;

I '11 not remember you of my own lord,

Who is lost too. Take your patience to you,

And I '11 say nothing.

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 '11 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. A Desert Country near the
Sea.

Enter ANTISONUS. >citk ike Bake ; and a Mariner.

Ant. Thou art perfect . then, our ship hath touch'd upon
The deserts of Bohemia ?

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 j
Look to thy bark : I ; 11 not be long, before
I call upon thee.

Mar. Make your best haste, and go not
Too far i' the land : 't is like to be loud weather :
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures

i my petition : in f. e.



KC. in. THE WINTER'S TALK. 359

Of prey that keep upon 't.

Ant . Go thou away :

I '11 follow instantly.

Mar. I am glad at heart

To be so rid o' the business. [Exii

Ant. Come, poor babe :

I have heard, (but not believ'd) 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 o'er-running 1 : 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 wend. 2 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 ehalt 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 squar'd by this. I do believe,
Hcrmione hath suffer'd death ; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid,
Either for lif, or death, upon the earth
Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well !

[Laying doipn the Babe
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 [Thunder.

becoming : in f. e. weep : in f. e. ' Description.



360 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT m.

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 art like to have
A lullaby too rough. I never saw [clamour ?

The heavens so dim by day. [Bear roars.] A savage
Well may I get aboard ! This is the chase ;
1 am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear.

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 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, 't is by the sea-side,
browzing of ivy. Good luck, an 't be thy will ! what
have we here? [Taking up the Babe} Mercy on's, a
barn ; a very pretty barn ! 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-gen-
tlewoman 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 '11 take it up for pity : yet I '11 tarry till my son come :
he hallood but even now. Whoa, ho hoa !
Enter Clown.

Clo. Hilloa, loa !

Shep. What ! art so near ? If thou 'It see a thing to
talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither.
What ail'st thou, man ?

Clo. 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
ky : betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a
bodkin's point.

Shep. Why. boy, how is it ?

Clo. 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. 0, 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 you ; d thrust a cork



sc. in. THE WINTER'S TALE. 361

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 Autigo-
nus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship :
to see how the sea flap-dragoned it 1 but, iirst, 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.

Shep. Name of mercy ! when was this, boy ?

Clo. 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 helped the old
man !

Clo. I would you had been by the ship's side, to
have helped her : there your charity would have lacked
footing.

Shep. 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 lip, 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 ?

Clo. 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 't will prove so : up
with it. 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.

Clo. Go you the next way with your findings : I '11
go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how
much he hath eaten : they are never curst, but when
they are h angry. If there be any of him left, I'll
bury it.

Shep. That's a good deed. If thou may' st discern
by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me tc
the sight of him.

1 Swallowed ships as drinkers swallow flapdragons (small srb-



ed ships
ting on liq



362 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT iv

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

Shep. 'T is a lucky day, boy. and we '11 do good deeda
on 't. [Exeunt.



ACT IV.

Enter TIME, the Chorus.

Time. I, thai 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 ; 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 receiv'd : 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. Your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing,
As you had slept between. Leontes leaving
Th' effects of his fond jealousies, so grieving
That he shuts up himself, imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bohemia ; and remember well,
I mention'd a son o' 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 wondering : What of her ensues,
I list not prophesy ; but let Time's news
Be known, when 't is brought forth. A shepherd's

daughter,

And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is th' argument of Time. Of this allow,
If ever you have spent time worse ere now :
If never, yet that Time himself doth say,
He wishes earnestly you never may. [Exit



THE WINTER'S TALE. 363



SCENE I. The Same. A Room in the Palace of

POLIXENES.

Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO.

Pol. I pray thee, goo;i Camillo, be no more impor
tunate : 't is a sickness denying thee anything, a death
to grant this.

Cam. It is fifteen years since I saw my country :
though I have, for the most part, been aired abroad, I
desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent
king, my master, hath sent for me ; to whose feeling
sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to think
so, which is another spur to my departure.

Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the
rest of thy services, by leaving me now. The need I
have of thee. thine own goodness hath made : better
not to have had thee. than thus to want thee. Thou,
having made me businesses, which none without thee
can sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute
them thyself, or take away with thee the very services
thou hast done ; which if I have not enough considered,
(as too much I cannot) to be more thankful to thee
shall be my study, and my profit therein, the heaping
friendships. Of that fatal country, Sicilia, pr'ythee
speak no more, whose very naming punishes me with
the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st him,
and reconciled king, my brother ; whose loss of his
most precious queen, and children, are even now to be
afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the
prince Florizel, my son ? Kings are no less unhappy,
their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing
them when they have approved their virtues.

Cam. Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince.
What his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown ;
but I have musingly 1 noted, he is of late much rethed
from court, and is less frequent to his princely exer-
cises than formerly he hath appeared.

Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo, and with
some care ; so far, that I have eyes under my service,
which look upon his removedness : from whom I have
this intelligence ; that he is seldom from the house of
a most homely shepherd ; a man, they say, that from

1 missingly : in f. e.



364 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT iv.

very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neigh
hours, 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 ex-
tended more than can be thov,_*ht to begin from such
a cottage.

Pol. That 's likewise part of my intelligence, but, I
fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt
accompany us to the place, where we will, not appear-
ing what we are, have some question with the shep-
herd ; 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 IT. The Same. A Road near the Shep-
herd's Cottage.

Enter AUTOLYCCS, singing.

When daffodils begin to peer, [1 Tune. 1

With, heigh ! the doxy over the dale,

Why) then comes in the sweet o' the year ;
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,

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

Doth set my prigging* tooth on edge ;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

The lark, that tirra-lirra chants,

With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay,
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,

While we lie tumbling in the hay.

I have served prince Florizel. and. in my time, wor*
three-pile 3 , but now f am out of service :

But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? [2 Tune.

The pale moon shines by night ;
And when I wander here and there,

I then do most go right.

1 Not in f e. * pugging : in f. s. 3 Fine velvet. * Not in f. .



BC. ii. THE WINTER'S TALE. 365

If tinkers may have leave to ,ive, [3 Tune. 1

And bear the sow-skin budget.
Then my account I well may give,

And in the stocks avouch it.

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

Enter Clown.

Clo. Let me see : Every 'leven wether tods' : every
tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred
shorn, what comes the wool to ?

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

Clo. I cannot do 't without counters, Let me see ,
what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast ? " Three
pound of sugar ; five pound of currants ; rice " What
will this sister of mine do with rice ? But my father
hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on.
She hath made me four-and-twenty nosegays for the
shearers ; three-man song-men 3 all, and very good
ones, but they are most of them means and bases :
but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to
hornpipes. I must have saffron, to colour the warden*
pies ; mace, dates, none ; that 's out of my note :
" nutmegs, seven : a race or two of ginger :" but that
I may beg ; " four pound of prunes, and as many of
raisins o' the sun."

Aut. 0, that ever I was born !

[Grovelling on the ground.

Clo. P the name of me !

Aut. 0, help me. help me ! pluck but off these rags,
and then, death, death !

Clo. Alack, poor soul ! thou hast need of more rags
to lay on thee, rather than have these off.

Aut. 0, sir ! the loathsomeness of them offends me

Not in f. e. s A tod is twenty-eieht pounds of TOO! 3 Singen
of songs for three voices. * A. late, hard pear.



3fiP> THE WINTER'S TALK. ACT iv.

more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty
ones, and rmllions.

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

Aut. I am robbed, sir, and beaten ; my money and
apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put
upon me.

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man ?

Aut. A foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man.

Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the gar-
ments he hath left with thee : if this be a horse-man's
coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand,
I '11 help thee : come, lend me thy hand.

[Helping him up.

Aut. ! good sir, tenderly, !

Clo. Alas, poor soul !

Aut. 0, 'good sir ! softly, good sir. I fear, sir, my
shoulder-blade is out.

Clo. How now ? canst stand ?

Aut. Softly, dear sir: [Cuts his purse. 1 ] good sir,
softly. You ha' done me a charitable office.

Clo. 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.

Clo. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you ?

Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about
with trol-my-dames ; 2 I knew him once a servant of
the prince. I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his
virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the
court.

Clo. His vices, you would say : there 's no virtue
whipped out of the court : they cherish it, to make it
stay there, and yet it will no more but abide 3 .

Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well :
he hath been since an ape-bearer ; then a process-
server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion* of the
prodigal son. and married a tinker's wife within a mile
where my land and living lies : and, having flown over

' Picks his porket . in f. e. = An old game resembling bagatellt
* Remain for a time. * A puppet-show.



sc. in. THE WINTER'S TALE. 867

many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue .
some call him Autolycus.

Clo. Out upon him ! Prig, for my life, prig : he
haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.

Aut. Very true, sir ; he, sir, he : that 's the rogue,
that pvt me into this apparel.

Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia :
if you had but looked 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 war-
rant him.

Clo. 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.

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way ?

Aut. No, good-faced sir j no. sweet sir.

Clo. Then fare thee well. I must go buy spices for
our sheep-shearing. {Exit Clown.

Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir ! Your purse is not
hot enough to purchase your spice. I '11 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 enrolled 1 , and my name put in the book of
virtue !

Jog on, jog on. the foot-path way

And merrily hcnt the atile-a :
A merry heart goes all the day.

Your sad tires in a mile-a. [Exit.

SCENE III. The Same. A Shepherd's Cottage.
Enter FJ.ORIZEL and PERDITA.

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.

Per. Sure 2 , my gracious lord,

To chide at your extremes it not becomes me ;
! pardon, that I name them : your high self,
The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscur'd
With a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid,
unrolled : in f. e. 2 Sir : in f. e.



368 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT iv.

Most goddess-like prank'd up. But that oui feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, I should blush
To see you so attrr'd, so worn 1 , I think,
To show myself a glass.

Flo. I bless the time,

When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father's ground.

Per. Now, Jove afford you cause

To me the difference forges dread ; your greatness
Hath _iot been us'd to fear. 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. The gods themseh-es.
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter
Became a bull, and bellow'd : the green Neptune
A ram, and bleated : and the fire-rob' d god,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain.
As I seem now. Their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
Nor any* way so chaste ; since my desires
Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.

Per. ! but, sir,

Your resolution cannot hold, when 't is
Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power of the king.
One of these two must be necessities,
Which then will speak that you must change thL

purpose,
Or 1 my life.

Flo. Thou dearest Perdita,

With these forc'd thoughts. I pr'ythee. darken not
The mirth o' the feast : or I '11 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. Be merry, girl* ;

* attired, sworn : in f. e. 2 in a : in f. e. 3 gentle : in f. e.



SC. III. THE \\1NTKK S TALK. 3(59

Strangle such though! s as these with any ihing
That you behold the while. Your guests are coming :
Lift up your countenance, as 't were the day
Of celebration of that nuptial, which
We two have sworn shall come.

Per. 0, lady fortune,

iftand you auspicious !

Enter Shepherd, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO, dis-
guised; Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others.

Flo. See, your guests approach :

Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And lee 's be red with mirth.

Shcp. Fie, 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 now here.
At upper end o' the table, now, i' the middle j
On his shoulder, and his her face o' fire
With labour, and the thing she took to quench it,
She would to each one sip. 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 's 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. [To POL.] Sir, welcome.

It is my father's will, I should take on me
The hostess-ship o' the day : [To CAM.] You 're wel-
come, sir.

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,
And welcome to our shearing !

Pol. Shepherdess,

(A fair one are you) well you fit our ages
With flowers of winter.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season
VOL. in. 24



370 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT iv.