The Winter’s Tale by William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing

To prate and talk for life and honour ‘fore

Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it

As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour,

‘Tis a derivative from me to mine,

And only that I stand for. I appeal

To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes

Came to your court, how I was in your grace,

How merited to be so; since he came,

With what encounter so uncurrent I

Have strain’d to appear thus: if one jot beyond

The bound of honour, or in act or will

That way inclining, harden’d be the hearts

Of all that hear me, and my near’st of kin

Cry fie upon my grave!

LEONTES I ne’er heard yet

That any of these bolder vices wanted

Less impudence to gainsay what they did

Than to perform it first.

HERMIONE That’s true enough;

Through ’tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

LEONTES You will not own it.

HERMIONE More than mistress of

Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not

At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,

With whom I am accused, I do confess

I loved him as in honour he required,

With such a kind of love as might become

A lady like me, with a love even such,

So and no other, as yourself commanded:

Which not to have done I think had been in me

Both disobedience and ingratitude

To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke,

Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely

That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,

I know not how it tastes; though it be dish’d

For me to try how: all I know of it

Is that Camillo was an honest man;

And why he left your court, the gods themselves,

Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

LEONTES You knew of his departure, as you know

What you have underta’en to do in’s absence.

HERMIONE Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not:

My life stands in the level of your dreams,

Which I’ll lay down.

LEONTES Your actions are my dreams;

You had a bastard by Polixenes,

And I but dream’d it. As you were past all shame,–

Those of your fact are so–so past all truth:

Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as

Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,

No father owning it,–which is, indeed,

More criminal in thee than it,–so thou

Shalt feel our justice, in whose easiest passage

Look for no less than death.

HERMIONE Sir, spare your threats:

The bug which you would fright me with I seek.

To me can life be no commodity:

The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,

I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,

But know not how it went. My second joy

And first-fruits of my body, from his presence

I am barr’d, like one infectious. My third comfort

Starr’d most unluckily, is from my breast,

The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,

Haled out to murder: myself on every post

Proclaimed a strumpet: with immodest hatred

The child-bed privilege denied, which ‘longs

To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried

Here to this place, i’ the open air, before

I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,

Tell me what blessings I have here alive,

That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed.

But yet hear this: mistake me not; no life,

I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour,

Which I would free, if I shall be condemn’d

Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else

But what your jealousies awake, I tell you

‘Tis rigor and not law. Your honours all,

I do refer me to the oracle:

Apollo be my judge!

First Lord This your request

Is altogether just: therefore bring forth,

And in Apollos name, his oracle.

Exeunt certain Officers

HERMIONE The Emperor of Russia was my father:

O that he were alive, and here beholding

His daughter’s trial! that he did but see

The flatness of my misery, yet with eyes

Of pity, not revenge!

Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DION

Officer You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,

That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have

Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought

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

Of great Apollo’s priest; and that, since then,

You have not dared to break the holy seal

Nor read the secrets in’t.

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’ the oracle:

The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood.

Enter Servant

Servant My lord the king, the king!

LEONTES What is the business?

Servant O sir, I shall be hated to report it!

The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear

Of the queen’s speed, is gone.

LEONTES How! gone!

Servant Is dead.

LEONTES Apollo’s angry; and the heavens themselves

Do strike at my injustice.

HERMIONE swoons

How now there!

PAULINA This news is mortal to the queen: look down

And see what death is doing.

LEONTES Take her hence:

Her heart is but o’ercharged; she will recover:

I have too much believed mine own suspicion:

Beseech you, tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life.

Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERMIONE

Apollo, pardon

My great profaneness ‘gainst thine oracle!

I’ll reconcile me to Polixenes,

New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo,

Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy;

For, being transported by my jealousies

To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose

Camillo for the minister to poison

My friend Polixenes: which had been done,

But that the good mind of Camillo tardied

My swift command, though I with death and with

Reward did threaten and encourage him,

Not doing ‘t and being done: he, most humane

And fill’d with honour, to my kingly guest

Unclasp’d my practise, quit his fortunes here,

Which you knew great, and to the hazard

Of all encertainties himself commended,

No richer than his honour: how he glisters

Thorough my rust! and how his pity

Does my deeds make the blacker!

Re-enter PAULINA

PAULINA Woe the while!

O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,

Break too.

First Lord What fit is this, good lady?

PAULINA What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?

What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling?

In leads or oils? what old or newer torture

Must I receive, whose every word deserves

To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny

Together working with thy jealousies,

Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle

For girls of nine, O, think what they have done

And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all

Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.

That thou betray’dst Polixenes,’twas nothing;

That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant

And damnable ingrateful: nor was’t much,

Thou wouldst have poison’d good Camillo’s honour,

To have him kill a king: poor trespasses,

More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon

The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter

To be or none or little; though a devil

Would have shed water out of fire ere done’t:

Nor is’t directly laid to thee, the death

Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts,

Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart

That could conceive a gross and foolish sire

Blemish’d his gracious dam: this is not, no,

Laid to thy answer: but the last,–O lords,

When I have said, cry ‘woe!’ the queen, the queen,

The sweet’st, dear’st creature’s dead,

and vengeance for’t

Not dropp’d down yet.

First Lord The higher powers forbid!

PAULINA I say she’s dead; I’ll swear’t. If word nor oath

Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring

Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye,

Heat outwardly or breath within, I’ll serve you

As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!

Do not repent these things, for they are heavier

Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee

To nothing but despair. A thousand knees

Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,

Upon a barren mountain and still winter

In storm perpetual, could not move the gods

To look that way thou wert.

LEONTES Go on, go on

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved

All tongues to talk their bitterest.

First Lord Say no more:

Howe’er the business goes, you have made fault

I’ the boldness of your speech.

PAULINA I am sorry for’t:

All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,

I do repent. Alas! I have show’d too much

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