ES. 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' th' cause, She, th' 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 SERVANT. My lord? LEONTES. How does the boy? FIRST SERVANT. He took good rest to-night; '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 SERVANT] 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 pow'r. 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 SERVANT. Madam, he hath not slept to-night; 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 medicinal 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. [To ANTIGONUS] Thou dotard, 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 th' 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's 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, lozel, 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 ha' thee burnt. 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. Enter a SERVANT SERVANT. Please your Highness, posts From those you sent to th' oracle are come An hour since. Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to th' 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. On the road to the Capital Enter CLEOMENES and DION CLEOMENES. The climate's delicate, the air most sweet, Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears. DION. I shall report, For most it caught me, the celestial habits- Methinks I so should term them- and the reverence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly, It was i' th' off'ring! CLEOMENES. But of all, the burst And the ear-deaf'ning voice o' th' oracle, Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd my sense That I was nothing. DION. If th' event o' th' journey Prove as successful to the Queen- O, be't so!- As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, The time is worth the use on't. CLEOMENES. Great Apollo Turn all to th' best! These proclamations, So forcing faults upon Hermione, I little like. DION. The violent carriage of it Will clear or end the business. When the oracle- Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up- Shall the contents discover, something rare Even then will rush to knowledge. Go; fresh horses. And gracious be the issue! Exeunt SCENE II. Sicilia. A court of justice Enter LEONTES, LORDS, and OFFICERS LEONTES. This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce, Even pushes 'gainst our heart- the party tried, The daughter of a king, our wife, and one Of us too much belov'd. Let us be clear'd Of being tyrannous, since we so openly Proceed in justice, which shall have due course, Even to the guilt or the purgation. Produce the prisoner. OFFICER. It is his Highness' pleasure that the Queen Appear in person here in court. Enter HERMIONE, as to her trial, PAULINA, and LADIES Silence! LEONTES. Read the indictment. OFFICER. [Reads] 'Hermione, Queen to the worthy Leontes, King of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the King, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.' HERMIONE. Since what I am to say must be but that Which contradicts my accusation, and The testimony on my part no other But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me To say 'Not guilty.' Mine integrity Being counted falsehood shall, as I express it, Be so receiv'd. But thus- if pow'rs divine Behold our human actions, as they do, I doubt not then but innocence shall make False accusation blush, and tyranny Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know- Who least will seem to do so- my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy; which is more Than history can pattern, though devis'd And play'd to take spectators; for behold me- A fellow of the royal bed, which owe A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince- here standing To prate and talk for life and honour fore Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for honour, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Came to your court, how I was in your grace, How merited to be so; since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain'd t' appear thus; if one jot beyond The bound of honour, or in act or will That way inclining, hard'ned be the hearts Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin Cry fie upon my grave! LEONTES. I ne'er heard yet That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did Than to perform it first. HERMIONE. That's true enough; Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. LEONTES. You will not own it. HERMIONE. More than mistress of Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, With whom I am accus'd, I do confess I lov'd him as in honour he requir'd; With such a kind of love as might become A lady like me; with a love even such, So and no other, as yourself commanded; Which not to have done, I think had been in me Both disobedience and ingratitude To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke, Ever since it could speak, from an infant, freely, That it was yours. Now for conspiracy: I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'd For me to try how; all I know of it Is that Camillo was an honest man; And why he left your court, the gods themselves, Wotting no more than I, are ignorant. LEONTES. You knew of his departure, as you know What you have underta'en to do in's absence. HERMIONE. Sir, You speak a language that I understand not. My life stands in the level of your dreams, Which I'll lay down. LEONTES. Your actions are my dreams. You had a bastard by Polixenes, And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame- Those of your fact are so- so past all truth; Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, No father owning it- which is indeed More criminal in thee than it- so thou Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage Look for no less than death. HERMIONE. Sir, spare your threats. The bug which you would fright me with I seek. To me can life be no commodity. The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, I do give lost, for I do feel it gone, But know not how it went; my second joy And first fruits of my body, from his presence I am barr'd, like one infectious; my third comfort, Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast- The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth- Hal'd out to murder; myself on every post Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried Here to this place, i' th' open air, before I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, Tell me what blessings I have here alive That I should fear to die. Therefore proceed. But yet hear this- mistake me not: no life, I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour Which I would free- if I shall be condemn'd Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigour, and not law. Your honours all, I do refer me to the oracle: Apollo be my judge! FIRST LORD. This your request Is altogether just. Therefore, bring forth, And in Apollo's name, his oracle. Exeunt certain OFFICERS HERMIONE. The Emperor of Russia was my father; O that he were alive, and here beholding His daughter's trial! that he did but see The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes Of pity, not revenge! Re-enter OFFICERS, with CLEOMENES and DION OFFICER. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then You have not dar'd to break the holy seal Nor read the secrets in't. CLEOMENES, DION. All this we swear. LEONTES. Break up the seals and read. OFFICER. [Reads] 'Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten; and the King shall live without an heir, if that which is lost be not found.' LORDS. Now blessed be the great Apollo! HERMIONE. Praised! LEONTES. Hast thou read truth? OFFICER. Ay, my lord; even so As it is here set down. LEONTES. There is no truth at all i' th' oracle. The sessions shall proceed. This is mere falsehood. Enter a SERVANT SERVANT. My lord the King, the King! LEONTES. What is the business? SERVANT. O sir, I shall be hated to report it: The Prince your son, with mere conceit and fear Of the Queen's speed, is gone. LEONTES. How! Gone? SERVANT. Is dead. LEONTES. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice. [HERMIONE swoons] How now, there! PAULINA. This news is mortal to the Queen. Look down And see what death is doing. LEONTES. Take her hence. Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover. I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion. Beseech you tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life. Exeunt PAULINA and LADIES with HERMIONE Apollo, pardon My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle. I'll reconcile me to Polixenes, New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo- Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy. For, being transported by my jealousies To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose Camillo for the minister to poison My friend Polixenes; which had been done But that the good mind of Camillo tardied My swift command, though I with death and with Reward did threaten and encourage him, Not doing it and being done. He, most humane And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest Unclasp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here, Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard Of all incertainties himself commended, No richer than his honour. How he glisters Thorough my rust! And how his piety Does my deeds make the blacker! Re-enter PAULINA PAULINA. Woe the while! O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, Break too! FIRST LORD. What fit is this, good lady? PAULINA. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels, racks, fires? what flaying, boiling In leads or oils? What old or newer torture Must I receive, whose every word deserves To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny Together working with thy jealousies, Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle For girls of nine- O, think what they have done, And then run mad indeed, stark mad; for all Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, And damnable ingrateful. Nor was't much Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour, To have him kill a king- poor trespasses, More monstrous standing by; whereof I reckon The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter To be or none or little, though a devil Would have shed water out of fire ere done't; Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death Of the young Prince, whose honourable thoughts- Thoughts high for one so tender- cleft the heart That could conceive a gross and foolish sire Blemish'd his gracious dam. This is not, no, Laid to thy answer; but the last- O lords, When I have said, cry 'Woe!'- the Queen, the Queen, The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead; and vengeance For't not dropp'd down yet. FIRST LORD. The higher pow'rs forbid! PAULINA. I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath Prevail not, go and see. If you can bring Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye, Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee To nothing but despair. A thousand knees Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, Upon a barren mountain, and still winter In storm perpetual, could not move the gods To look that way thou wert. LEONTES. Go on, go on. Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd All tongues to talk their bitt'rest. FIRST LORD. Say no more; Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I' th' boldness of your speech. PAULINA. I am sorry for't. All faults I make, when I shall come to know them. I do repent. Alas, I have show'd too much The rashness of a woman! He is touch'd To th' noble heart. What's gone and what's past help Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction At my petition; I beseech you, rather Let me be punish'd that have minded you Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege, Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman. The love I bore your queen- lo, fool again! I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children; I'll not remember you of my own lord, Who is lost too. Take your patience to you, And I'll say nothing. LEONTES. Thou didst speak but well When most the truth; which I receive much better Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me To the dead bodies of my queen and son. One grave shall be for both. Upon them shall The causes of their death appear, unto Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit The chapel where they lie; and tears shed there Shall be my recreation. So long as nature Will bear up with this exercise, so long I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me To these sorrows. Exeunt SCENE III. Bohemia. The sea-coast Enter ANTIGONUS with the CHILD, and a MARINER ANTIGONUS. Thou art perfect then our ship hath touch'd upon The deserts of Bohemia? MARINER. Ay, my lord, and fear We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry And frown upon 's. ANTIGONUS. Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; Look to thy bark. I'll not be long before I call upon thee. MARINER. Make your best haste; and go not Too far i' th' land; 'tis like to be loud weather; Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon't. ANTIGONUS. Go thou away; I'll follow instantly. MARINER. I am glad at heart To be so rid o' th' business. Exit ANTIGONUS. Come, poor babe. I have heard, but not believ'd, the spirits o' th' dead May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side some another- I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill'd and so becoming; in pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me; And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts; the fury spent, anon Did this break from her: 'Good Antigonus, Since fate, against thy better disposition, Hath made thy person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe Is counted lost for ever, Perdita I prithee call't. For this ungentle business, Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more.' so, with shrieks, She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself, and thought This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys; Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously, I will be squar'd by this. I do believe Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that Apollo would, this being indeed the issue Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, Either for life or death, upon the earth Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! [Laying down the child] There lie, and there thy character; there these [Laying down a bundle] Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, And still rest thine. The storm begins. Poor wretch, That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds; and most accurs'd am I To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell! The day frowns more and more. Thou'rt like to have A lullaby too rough; I never saw The heavens so dim by day. [Noise of hunt within] A savage clamour! Well may I get aboard! This is the chase; I am gone for ever. Exit, pursued by a bear Enter an old SHEPHERD SHEPHERD. I would there were no age between ten and three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting- [Horns] Hark you now! Would any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two and twenty hunt this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master. If any where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! What have we here? [Taking up the child] Mercy on's, a barne! A very pretty barne. A boy or a child, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one- sure, some scape. Though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work; they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity; yet I'll tarry till my son come; he halloo'd but even now. Whoa-ho-hoa! Enter CLOWN CLOWN. Hilloa, loa! SHEPHERD. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'st thou, man? CLOWN. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! But I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point. SHEPHERD. Why, boy, how is it? CLOWN. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! But that's not to the point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! Sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast, and anon swallowed with yeast and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service- to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman! But to make an end of the ship- to see how the sea flap-dragon'd it; but first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mock'd them; and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mock'd him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather. SHEPHERD. Name of mercy, when was this, boy? CLOWN. Now, now; I have not wink'd since I saw these sights; the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half din'd on the gentleman; he's at it now. SHEPHERD. Would I had been by to have help'd the old man! CLOWN. I would you had been by the ship-side, to have help'd her; there your charity would have lack'd footing. SHEPHERD. Heavy matters, heavy matters! But look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying, I with things new-born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's child! Look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let's see- it was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changeling. Open't. What's within, boy? CLOWN. You're a made old man; if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold! SHEPHERD. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. Up with't, keep it close. Home, home, the next way! We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go. Come, good boy, the next way home. CLOWN. Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten. They are never curst but when they are hungry. If there be any of him left, I'll bury it. SHEPHERD. That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him. CLOWN. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' th' ground. SHEPHERD. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't. Exeunt ACT IV. SCENE I. Enter TIME, the CHORUS TIME. I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds 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 pow'r 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 th' 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' th' King's, which Florizel I now name to you; and with speed so pace To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace Equal with wond'ring. What of her ensues I list not prophesy; but let Time's news Be known when 'tis 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 SCENE II. Bohemia. The palace of POLIXENES Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO POLIXENES. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: 'tis a sickness denying thee anything; a death to grant this. CAMILLO. 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. POLIXENES. As thou lov'st 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, prithee, 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. CAMILLO. Sir, it is three days since I saw the Prince. What his happier affairs may be are to me unknown; but I have missingly noted he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appeared. POLIXENES. 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 very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate. CAMILLO. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note. The report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage. POLIXENES. 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 appearing what we are, have some question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Prithee be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia. CAMILLO. I willingly obey your command. POLIXENES. My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves. Exeunt SCENE III. Bohemia. A road near the SHEPHERD'S cottage Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing When daffodils begin to peer, 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 pugging 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 serv'd Prince Florizel, and in my time wore three-pile; but now I am out of service. But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? The pale moon shines by night; And when I wander here and there, I then do most go right. If tinkers may have leave to live, 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 nam'd me Autolycus; who, being, I as am, litter'd under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I purchas'd this caparison; and my revenue 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 CLOWN. Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wool to? AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] If the springe hold, the cock's mine. CLOWN. 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 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; race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' th' sun. AUTOLYCUS. [Grovelling on the ground] O that ever I was born! CLOWN. I' th' name of me! AUTOLYCUS. O, help me, help me! Pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death! CLOWN. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off. AUTOLYCUS. O sir, the loathsomeness of them offend me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions. CLOWN. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter. AUTOLYCUS. I am robb'd, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me. CLOWN. What, by a horseman or a footman? AUTOLYCUS. A footman, sweet sir, a footman. CLOWN. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments he has left with thee; if this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee. Come, lend me thy hand. [Helping him up] AUTOLYCUS. O, good sir, tenderly, O! CLOWN. Alas, poor soul! AUTOLYCUS. O, good sir, softly, good sir; I fear, sir, my shoulder blade is out. CLOWN. How now! Canst stand? AUTOLYCUS. Softly, dear sir [Picks his pocket]; good sir, softly. You ha' done me a charitable office. CLOWN. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. AUTOLYCUS. 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 anything I want. Offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart. CLOWN. What manner of fellow was he that robb'd you? AUTOLYCUS. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with troll-my-dames; 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 whipt out of the court. CLOWN. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipt out of the court. They cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide. AUTOLYCUS. 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 compass'd 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 many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue. Some call him Autolycus. CLOWN. Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig! He haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings. AUTOLYCUS. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that'