William Shakespeare
The Winter's Tale

Dramatis Personae

LEONTES, King of Sicilia

MAMILLIUS, his son, the young Prince of Sicilia

CAMILLO, lord of Sicilia

ANTIGONUS, " " "

CLEOMENES, " " "

DION, " " "

POLIXENES, King of Bohemia

FLORIZEL, his son, Prince of Bohemia

ARCHIDAMUS, a lord of Bohemia

OLD SHEPHERD, reputed father of Perdita

CLOWN, his son

AUTOLYCUS, a rogue

A MARINER

A GAOLER

TIME, as Chorus

HERMIONE, Queen to Leontes

PERDITA, daughter to Leontes and Hermione

PAULINA, wife to Antigonus

EMILIA, a lady attending on the Queen

MOPSA, shepherdess

DORCAS, "

Other Lords, Gentlemen, Ladies, Officers, Servants, Shepherds,

Shepherdesses

SCENE: Sicilia and Bohemia

ACT I. SCENE I. Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES

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
    train'd 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 seem'd to be
together,
    though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embrac'd 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. Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES

Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, CAMILLO, and ATTENDANTS

  POLIXENES. Nine changes of the wat'ry 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 moe
    That go before it.
  LEONTES. Stay your thanks a while,
    And pay them when you part.
  POLIXENES. Sir, that's to-morrow.
    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 sev'night longer.
  POLIXENES. Very sooth, to-morrow.
  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' th' 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 proclaim'd. 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 o' th' 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 t' 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 to-morrow as to-day,
    And to be boy eternal.
  HERMIONE. Was not my lord
    The verier wag o' th' two?
  POLIXENES. We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' th' 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;
    Th' 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 prithee 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 th' 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 th' purpose- When?
    Nay, let me have't; I long.
  LEONTES. Why, that was when
    Three crabbed 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. 'Tis Grace indeed.
    Why, lo you now, I have spoke to th' 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' th' 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. – 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 coactive 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 hard'ning 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 muzzl'd,
    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' th' 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!
    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 th' arm
    That little thinks she has been sluic'd in's 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 pow'rfull, 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 on's
    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; whisp'ring, 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 head-piece 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 wilfull-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 non-performance, 'twas a fear
    Which oft infects the wisest. These, my lord,
    Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty
    Is never free of. But, beseech your Grace,
    Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
    By its own visage; if I then deny it,
    'Tis none of mine.
  LEONTES. Ha' 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-
    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 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 gall'd- 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' th' 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 split'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' th' 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 th' 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 followed 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 enclosed in this trunk which you
    Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night.
    Your followers I will whisper to the business;
    And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns,
    Clear them o' th' 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 utt'red 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's 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. The palace of LEONTES

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. 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't 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 pow'rfull 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 OTHERS

  LEONTES. 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 blest 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
    Th' 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
                                          [MAMILLIUS is led out]
    With that she's big with- for 'tis Polixenes
    Has made thee swell thus.
  HERMIONE. But I'd say he had not,
    And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying,
    Howe'er you lean to th' 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 ad
    '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't 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 bold'st 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 school-boy'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 aspect 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 HERMIONE, guarded, and LADIES
  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 t' accept it- that the Queen is spotless
    I' th' 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 farther 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 dispatch'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 th' 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. Sicilia. A prison

Enter PAULINA, a GENTLEMAN, and ATTENDANTS

  PAULINA. The keeper of the prison- call to him;
    Let him have knowledge who I am. Exit GENTLEMAN
    Good lady!
    No court in Europe is too good for thee;
    What dost thou then in prison?

Re-enter GENTLEMAN with the GAOLER

    Now, good sir,
    You know me, do you not?
  GAOLER. For a worthy lady,
    And one who much I honour.
  PAULINA. Pray you, then,
    Conduct me to the Queen.
  GAOLER. I may not, madam;
    To the contrary I have express commandment.
  PAULINA. Here's ado, to lock up honesty and honour from
    Th' access of gentle visitors! Is't lawful, pray you,
    To see her women- any of them? Emilia?
  GAOLER. So please you, madam,
    To put apart these your attendants,
    Shall bring Emilia forth.
  PAULINA. I pray now, call her.
    Withdraw yourselves. Exeunt ATTENDANTS
  GAOLER. And, madam,
    I must be present at your conference.
  PAULINA. Well, be't so, prithee. Exit GAOLER
    Here's such ado to make no stain a stain
    As passes colouring.

Re-enter GAOLER, 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,

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