Classic Audiobook Collection - The Winters Tale by William Shakespeare ~ Full Audiobook [drama]

Episode Date: May 5, 2025

The Winters Tale by William Shakespeare audiobook. Genre: drama In The Winter's Tale, Shakespeare begins in the glittering courts of Sicilia and Bohemia, where friendship, power, and pride collide. King Leontes of Sicilia is seized by a sudden, corrosive jealousy that turns his closest bond with King Polixenes into suspicion and treachery. As Leontes' accusations fall on his virtuous queen, Hermione, and the loyal nobleman Camillo, the court becomes a place where truth is dangerous and loyalty is tested. A newborn child is caught in the storm of royal paranoia, and an order is given that will send the story far from palace walls and into the uncertain hands of fate. Years later, the play shifts into a warmer, pastoral world of shepherds, festivals, and young love, where a spirited girl named Perdita and the earnest prince Florizel struggle against the barriers of class and legacy. Moving between winter's bitterness and springtime possibility, Shakespeare weaves a tale of injustice, endurance, and the long reach of choices, asking whether time can heal what fear and rage have broken. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 0 (00:02:26) Chapter 1 (00:30:34) Chapter 2 (00:57:00) Chapter 3 (01:21:43) Chapter 4 (02:22:31) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Act 1 of the Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare. Act 1, Scene 1. Antichamber in Leante's Palace. Enter Camillo and Archidamus. If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion where on my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.

I think this coming summer the King of Sussex. Silly, it means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us. We will be justified in our loves, for indeed, beseech you. 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 insufficiency, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us.

You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utterance. Cecilia cannot show himself over kind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods, and their 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 seemed to be together, though absent, shook hands

as over a vast and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves. I think there is not in the world, either malice, or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince, Mimilius. It is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note. 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. would they else be content to die yes if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live if the king had no son they would desire to live on crutches till he had one exeunt act one scene two a room of state in the same enter leontes hermione maillius polyxenes camillo and attendants nine changes of the watery star hath been the the shepherd's note since we have left our throne without a burden. Time as long again would

be fined up, my brother, with our thanks, and yet we should for perpetuity go hence in debt, and therefore, like a seifer, yet standing in rich place, I multiply with one we thank you, many thousands more that go before it. Stay your thanks a while, and pay them when you part. Sir, that's to-morrow. I am questioned by my fears of what may chance or breed upon our absence. that may blow no sneaking winds at home to make us say this is put forth too truly besides i have stayed to tire your royalty we are tougher brother than you can put us to it no longer stay one seven night longer very sooth tomorrow we'll part the time between us then and in that i'll no gainsaying press me not beseech you so there is no tongue that moves none none in the world so soon as yours could win me so it should now were there necessity in a request although twere needful i denied it my affairs do even drag me homeward which to hinder were in your lava whip to me my stay to you a charge in trouble to save both farewell our brother tongue-tied our queen speak you i had thought sir to have held my peace until you have 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 bygone day proclaimed say this to him he's beat from his best ward well said 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 will thwack him hence with distaffs

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 jest prefixed force parting. Yet good deed, Launties, I love thee not ajar of the clock behind what lady she, her lord. You'll stay? No, madam. Nay, but you will. I may not, verily. Verily? You put me off with limber vows, but I, though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oath, should yet say, sir, no going. Verily, you shall not go. A lady's verily is as potent as a lord's. Will you 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. Your guest, then, madam, to be your prisoner should import offending, which is for me less easy to commit than you to punish. Not your jailer, 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.

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. Was not my lord the verrier wag or the two? We were as twinned lambs that did frisca the sun and bleat the one at the other. What we changed was innocence for innocence. We knew not the doctrine of ill-doing, nor dreamed that any did. Had we pursued that life and our weak spirits ne'er had been higher-reared with stronger blood, We should have answered heaven boldly, not guilty.

The imposition cleared hereditary hours. By this we gather you have tripped since. Oh, my most sacred lady, temptations have since then been born to us, for in those unfledged days was my wife a girl, your precious self had then not crossed the eyes of my young playfellow. Grace to boot! Of this make no conclusion,

lest you say your queen and I are devils. Yet go on, the offences we have. have made you do, we'll answer. If you first sinned with us, and that with us you did continue fault, and that you slipped not with any but with us. Is he one yet? He'll stay, my lord. At my request he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spoke us to better purpose. Never? Never but once. What have I twice said well? When wast before? I prithee tell me. Crams with praise and makes as fat as tame things. One good deed. dying tongueless, slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages. You may rides with

one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere with spur we beat an acre, but to the goal, my last good deed was to entreat his stay. What was my first? It has an elder sister, or I mistake you, oh, would her name were grace? But once before I spoke to the purpose, when, nay, let me have it, I long. Why, that was when three crabbed months had soured themselves to death, ere I could make thee open thy white hand and clap thyself my love. Then didst thou utter, I am yours forever. Tis grace indeed. Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice, the one for ever earned a royal husband, the other for some while a friend. 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. Tmay, I grant, but to be paddling palms and pinching fingers as now they are,

and making practiced smiles as in a looking glass, and then to sigh, as twere the mort of the deer. Oh, that is entertainment my bosom likes not, nor my brows. Mimilius, art thou my boy? Hi, my good lord. If, X, why, that's my barcock. What hath smut 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 called neat. still virginaling upon his palm. How now you wanton calf, aren't thou my calf? Yes, if you will, my lord. Thou want'st a rough pash and the chutes that I have to be full like me. Yet they say we are almost as like as eggs. Women say so that we'll say anything. But were they false as o'er-died blacks as wind as waters, false as dice are to be wished by one that fixes no-born twixt his and mine, yet were it true to say this boy were like me.

Come, Sir Page, look on me with your welcome eye, sweet villain, most dearest, my call-up. Can I damn? May it be? Affection, thy intention stabs the centre. Thou dost make possible things not so held, communicatest with dreams. How can this be? With what's unreal thou co-active art and fellowest nothing, then tis very credent thou mayest co-join with something, and thou dost, and that beyond commission, and I find it, and that to the infection of my brains and hardening of my brows. What means, Cecilia? He something seems unsettled.

How, my lord? What cheer? How is't with you, best brother? You look as if you held a brow of much distraction. Are you moved, my lord? No, in good earnest, how sometimes nature will betray its folly, its tenderness, and to 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, unbreached, in my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled lest it should bite its master, and so prove, as ornaments oft do, too dangerous. How like, me thought, I then was to this colonel, this squash, this gentleman.

My honest friend, will you take eggs for money? No, my lord, I'll fight. You will, why, happy man be a stole. My brother, are you so fond of your young prince as we do seem to be of ours? 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 childish cures in me thoughts that would thick my blood so stands this squire officed with me we too will walk my lord and leave you to your graver steps hermione how thou lovest us show in our brothers welcome let what is dear in sicily be cheap next to thyself and my young rover he's a parent to my heart

if you would seek us we are yours in the garden shall attend you there 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 too go too how she holds up the neb the bill to him and arms her with the boldness of a wife to her allowing husband exeunt pelixenies hermione and attendant Gone already. Inch thick, knee-deep, or head and ears a forked one! Go play, boy, play. Thy mother plays, and I play too, but so disgraced a part Whose issue will hiss me to my grave. Contempt and clamor will be mine now.

Go play, boy, play. There have been, or I am much deceived, cuckholds ere now, And many a man there is, even at this present, now, while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm that little thinks she has been sluiced in absence, and his pond fished by his next neighbor, by Sir Smile, his neighbor. Nay, there's comfort in it, whilst other men have gates and those gates opened as mine against their will. Should all despair that have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind would hang themselves,

Physic for it there is none. It is a body planet that will strike where tis predominant, And tis powerful, think it, from east, west, north and south. Be it concluded no barricado for a belly. Know it, it will let in and out the enemy with bag and baggage. Many thousand honors have the disease and feel it not. How now, boy? I am like you, they say.

Why, that's some comfort. What, Camillo there? Aye, my good lord. Go play, Mimilius. Thou art an honest man. Exit Mimilius. Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. You had much ado to make his anchor hold.

When you cast out, it still came home. Didst note it? He would not stay at your petitions. Made his business more material. Didst perceive it? Aside. There here, we were. with me already, whispering, rounding Cecilia is a so forth, tis far gone when I shall

gust it last. How came it, Camillo, that he did stay? At the good queen's entreaty. At the queens, be it. 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 it but of the finer natures,

by some severals of headpiece extraordinary, lower messes perchance to this business per blind, say, Business, my lord, I think most understand Bohemia stays here longer. Ha! Stays here longer. Aye, but why?

To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties of our most gracious mistress. Satisfiastise. the 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 counsels wherein priestlike thou hast cleansed my bosom i from thee departed thy penitent reformed but we have been deceived in thy integrity deceived in that which seems so be it forbid my lord to bide upon it thou art not honest or If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward, which hoaxes honesty behind, restraining from course required, or else thou must be counted a servant grafted in my serious trust and therein negligent, or else a fool that seest a game played home, the rich stake drawn, and takest it all for jest.

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 a willful negligent, it was my folly. If industriously I played the fool, it was my negligence not weighing well the end. If ever fearful to do a thing where I the issue doubted where the execution did cry out against the non-performance, twas a fear which which oft infects the wisest.

These, my lord, are allowed 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. And not you seen, Camillo, but that's passed out you have, or your eyeglasses thicker than a cuckold's horn, or heard, for to a vision so apparent, rumor 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 it and justify it. 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

is whispering nothing is leaning cheek to cheek is meeting noses kissing with inside lip stopping the career of laughing 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, there's, there's only, that would unseen be wicked. Is this nothing? Why, then, the world and all that's in it is nothing. The covering sky is nothing, bohemia nothing, my wife is nothing, nor nothing have these nothings if this be nothing. Could my lord be cured of this diseased opinion and betimes, for tis most dangerous. Say it be, tis true. No, no, my lord. 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. Who does infect her? Why, he that wears her like a medal hanging about his neck, Bohemia, who if I had servants true about me that bear eyes to see alike mine honor as their prophets, their own particular thrifts,

they would do that which should undo more doing, I am thou his cup-bearer, whom I from meaner form have benched and reared to worship, whom mayst see plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven how I am galled, mightst bespice a cup to give mine enemy a lasting wink, which draught to me were cordial. Sir, my lord, I could do this, and that with no rancel. poison but with a lingering 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 loved thee 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 nettle tales of wasps give scandal to the blood of the prince my son who i do think is mine and love as mine without ripe moving to it would i do this could man so blench

i must believe you sir i do and we'll fetch off bohemia for it provided that when he's removed 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. There dost advise me even so as I mine own course have set down. I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. 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 cup-bearer. If from me he have wholesome beverage, account me not your servant.

This is all. Do it, and thou hast the one-half of my heart. Do it not, thou splits thine own. I'll do it, my lord. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me. Exit. Oh, miserable lady, but, for me, what case stand I in? I must be the poisoner of good polyxenies,

and my ground to do it 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 flourished after, I'd not do it. But since nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment bears not one, let villainy itself forswear it, I must forsake the court.

To do it or know is certain to me a burden. breakneck. Oh, happy star. Rain now. Here comes Bohemia. Reenter Palixenies. This is strange. Methinks my favor here begins to warp, not speak. Good day, Camillo. Hail, most royal, sir. What is the news of the court? None rare, my lord. The king hath on him such a countenance, as he had lost some province and a region loved as he loves himself. Even now I met him with customary compliment, when he, wafting his eyes to the contrary

and falling a lip of much contempt, speeds from me, and so leaves me to consider what is breeding that changeth thus his manners. I dare not know, my lord. How? Dare not? Do not. Do you know, and dare not? Be intelligent to me, this thereabouts,

for to yourself what you do know, you must, and cannot say you do not. Dare not. Good Camillo, your changed complexions are to me a mirror which shows me mine changed, too, for I must be a party in this alteration, finding myself thus altered with it. 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. How? Caught of me? Make me not sighted like the basilisk. I have looked on thousands who have sped the better by my regard, but killed none so. Camillo, as you are certainly a gentleman, there are two clerk-like experienced, 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 dost behoove my knowledge thereof to be informed, imprisoned not in ignorant concealment. I may not answer. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well. I must be answered. Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee by all the parts of man which honour does it knowledge, whereof the least is not this suit of mine, that thou declare what incidences 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. Sir, I will tell you, since I am charged in honor and by him that I think honourable, therefore, mark my counsel, which must be even as swiftly followed as I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me cry lost and so good night. I am appointed him to murder you. By whom, Camillo? By the king. For what?

He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears as he had seemed or being an instrument to vice you to it, that you have touched his queen, forbiddenly. Oh, then my best blood turn to an infected jelly, and my name be yoked with his that did betray the best. then my freshest reputation to a savor that made strike the dullest nostril where I arrive and my approach be shunned,

nay, hated too, worse than the greatest infection that air was heard or red. Swear he is 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 piled upon his faith and will continue the standing of his body. How should this grow? I know not, but I am sure it is safer to avoid what's grown

than question how tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty that lies enclosed it in this trunk which you shall bear along in pond, away, tonight, your followers I will whisper to the business, and will by twos and threes at several posterns clear

them in the city. For myself, I'll put my fortunes to your service, which are here by this discovery, lost, but not uncertain, for by the honor of my parents I have uttered truth, which, if you seek to prove I dare not stand by, nor shall you be safer than one condemned by the king's own mouth thereon his execution sworn. I do believe thee. I saw his heart in his face.

Give me thy hand. Be pilot to me and thy places shall still neighbor mine. My ships are ready, and my people did expect my hand's 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 dishonoured by a man which ever professed to him, why his revenges must in that be made more bitter. Fear o's shades me. Good expedition be my friend, and comfort the gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing of his ill-tained suspicion. Come, Camillo, I will respect thee as a father if thou bears my life off hence. Let, let'st the gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing of his ill-tained suspicion. Come, come, Camillo, I will respect thee as a father, if thou bearest my life off hence. Let, let'st us avoid. It is in my authority to command the keys of all the postons. Please, Your Highness, to take the urgent hour. Come, sir!

Away! Exeient. End of Act 1. Act 2 of the Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox. Org. Act 2, Scene 1. A Roman Liante's Palace. Enter Hermione, Mamilius, and Ladies.

Take the boy to you. He so troubles me to his past enduring. Come, my gracious Lord. Shall I be your playfellow? No, I'll none of you. Why, my sweet Lord? You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if I were a baby still. I love you better. And why so, my lord? 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 who taught you this i learned it out of women's faces pray now what color are your eyebrows blue my lord nay that's a mock i have seen a lady's nose that has been blue but not her eyebrows 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. She has spread of late into a goodly balk. Good times encounter her. What wisdom stirs amongst you. Come, sir, now I am for you again. Pray you sit by us and tells a tale. Mary or sad shall be?

As merry as you will. A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins. Let's have that, good sir. Come on, sit down, come on, and do your best to fright me with your sprites. You're powerful at it. There was a man. Nay, come, sit down, then on.

Dwelled by a churchyard. I will tell it softly. Yon'd crickets shall not hear it. Come on, then, and give to me in mine ear. Enter Leontes, with Antigonus, lords, and others. Bossie met there, his train, Camillo, with him? Behind the tuft of pines I met them. Never saw I men scour so on their way. I eyed them, even to their ships. How blessed am I in my just censure, in my true opinion. A lack for lesser knowledge. How accursed in being so blessed. There may be in the cup a spider steeped, and one may drink, depart and yet partake no venom, for his knowledge is not infected. But if one present the abhorred in

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 employed was pre-employed by him. He has discovered my design, and I remitred. mean a pinched thing, yea, a very trick for them to play at will. How came the pasterns so easily open? By his great authority, which often hath no less prevailed than so on your command. I know it 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.

What is this, sport? Bear the boy hence. He shall not come about her, away with him, and Let her sport herself with that she's big with, for tis polyxenies has made thee swell thus. But I'll say he had not, and I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, howe'er you lean to the nayward. 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 add, 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. Oh, I am out, that mercy does, For calumny will seer virtue itself. These shrugs, these hums and haze, When you have said she's goodly, Come between e'er you can say she's honest. But be it known, from him that has most cause to grieve it should be, She's an adulterous.

Should a villain say so? The most replenished villain in the world he were as much more villain. You, my lord, do but mistake. You have mistook, my lady, polyxonies, furlianties, O thou thing, which I'll not call a creature of thy place, lest barbarism making me the precedent, should a like language used to all degrees and mannerly distinguishment leave out betwixt the prince and beggar? I have said she's an adulterous, 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 principle, that she's a bed-swerver. Even as bad as those that vulgars give boldest titles, I, and privy to this their late escape. No, by my life, privy to none of this. How will this grieve you, when you shall come to clear a knowledge that you thus have published me?

Gentle, my lord, you scarce can write me throughly than to say you did mistake. No, if I mistake in those foundations which I build upon, the centre is not big enough to bear a schoolboy's top, away with her to prison. He who shall speak for her is a far-off guilty but that he speaks. 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 due perchance shall draw your pities. But I have that honourable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown. Beseech you all, my lords, with thought of you, so qualified as your charity shall best instruct you, measure me. And so the king's will be performed. Shall I be heard? Who is 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 deserved prison then abound in tears as I come out, this action I now go on is for my better grace. But you, my lord, I never wished to see you sorry. Now I trust I shall. My women, come, you have leave. Go, do our bidding, hence.

Exit Hermione, guarded, with ladies. Beceit, Your Highness, call the Queen again. Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer. yourself, your queen, your son. For her, my lord, I dare my life lay down and will do it, sir. Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless in the eyes of heaven and to you. I mean, in this which you accuse her.

If it proves she's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where I lodge my wife. I'll go in couples with her. Then when I feel and see her no farther trust her, for every inch of woman in the world, A, every dram of woman's flesh is false, if she be. Hold your pieces. Good, my lord. It is for you, we speak, not for ourselves.

You are abused, and by some put her on. That will be damned for it. Would I knew the villain, I would land damn him. Be sure, honoured, flawed. I have three daughters, the eldest is eleven, the second and the third nine, and some five. If this proved true, they'll pave it by mine honour.

Our gilden all, 14 they shall not see. To bring false generations, they are coheres, and I had rather glib myself than they should not produce fair issue. Cease, no more. You smell this business with a sense

as cold as is a dead man's nose, but I do see it and feel it as you feel doing thus, and see with all the instruments that feel 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. What, lack I credit? 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 blamed for it how you might. Why, what need we commune with you of this, but rather follow our forceful instinct? Our prerogative calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness imparts this, which if you, or stupefied 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 ordering on it is all properly ours. And I wish my leech, you had only in your silent judgment tried it without more overture. 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 touched conjecture, that lacked sight only, not for approbation but only seeing, all other circumstances made up to the deed doth push on this proceeding. Yet, for a greater confirmation, for in an act of this importance to our most piteous to be wild, I have dispatched in post to sacred Delphos, to Apollo's Temple, Cleomenes and Dion whom you know of stuffed sufficiency, now from the oracle they will bring all, whose spiritual counsel had shall stop or spur me. Have I done well? Well done, my lord. Though I am satisfied and need no more

than what I know, yet shall the oracle give rest to the minds of others, such as he whose ignorant and credulity will not come up to the truth. So have we thought it good from our free person she should be confined, 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. Aside. To laughter as I take it, if the good truth were known. Exeient. Act two, scene two, a prison.

Enter Paulina, a gentleman and attendance. The keeper of the prison, call to him. Let him have knowledge who I am. Exit gentlemen. Good lady. No court in Europe is too good for thee. What dost thou then in prison? Re-enter gentlemen with the jailer.

Now good sir, you know me, do you not? For a worthy lady, and one whom much I honour. pray you then conduct me to the queen i may not madam to the contrary i have expressed commandment here's ado to lock up honesty and honour from the access of gentle visitors is lawful i pray you to see her women any of them emilia so please you madam to put apart these your attendants i shall bring amelia forth i pray you now call her withdraw yourselves exeant gentlemen in attendance aunt madam i must be present at your conference well be it so prithee exit jailer here's such ado to make no stain a stain as passes coloring re-enter jailer with amelia dear gentlewoman how fares our gracious lady as well as one so great and so forlorn may hold together on her frights in griefs which never tender lady hath born greater. She is something before her time delivered. A boy. A daughter and a goodly babe, lusty and like to live. The queen receives much comfort in it, says, my poor prisoner, I am innocent as you. I dare be sworn these dangerous, unsafe loons of the king beshrew them.

He must be told, aunt, and he shall. The office becomes a woman best. I'll take it upon me. If I prove honey-mouthed, let my tongue blister and never to my red-looked, be the trumpet any more pray you amelia commend my best obedience to the queen if she dares trust me with her little babe i'll show it the king and undertake to be her advocate to the loudest we do not know how he may soften at the sight of the child the silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails most worthy madam your honor and your goodness is so evident that your free undertaking cannot miss a thriving issue there is no lady living so meet for this great errand please your ladyship to visit the next room i'll presently acquaint the queen of your most noble offer who but to-day hammered of this design but durst not tempt a minister of honour lest she should be denied tell her amelia i'll use that tongue i have if wit flow frumped as baldness from my bosom let it not be doubted i shall do good now be you blessed for it i'll to the queen please you come something nearer madam if you please the queen to send the babe, I know not what I shall incur to pass it, having no warrant. You need not fear it, sir. This child was prisoner to the womb, and is by law and process of

great nature thence freed and enfranchised, not a party to the anger of the king, nor guilty of, if any be, the trespass of the queen. I do believe it. Do not you fear? Upon mine honour I will stand betwixt you and danger. Exeunt. Act two, scene three. A room in Leontes palace. Entered Leontes, Antigonus, lords, and servants. 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 of the cause, she, the adulteress, 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? My lord? How does the boy? He took good rest tonight. Tis hoped his sickness is discharged. To see his nobleness. Conceiving the dishonor of his mother, he straight declined, drooped, took it deeply, fastened, fixed the shame on it in himself, threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, and downright languished. Leave me solely. Go, see how he fares. Exit servant. Fy, fie, no thought of him. The thought of my revenge is 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 polyxenies laugh at me make their pastime at my sorrow they should not laugh if i could reach them nor shall she within my power enter paulina with a child you must not enter 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 That's enough. Madam, he hath not slept to-night. Commanded none should come at him. 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. What noise there, ho? No noise, my lord, but needful conference about some gossips for your highness.

How? Away with that audacious lady. Antigonus, I charged thee that she should not come about me. I knew she would. I told her so, my lord. On your displeasure's peril and on mine, she should not visit you. What, canst not rule her? 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. La, you know, you hear, when she will take the rain, I let her run, but you're not stumble. Good, my liege, I come, and I beseech you hear me, who profess myself your loyal servant, your physician, your most obedient counsellor, yet that dare less appear so in comforting your evils than such as most seem yours. I say I come from your good queen.

Good queen. 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? Force her hence. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes firsthand 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 it is, commends it to your blessing. laying down the child. Out, a mankind witch, hence with her out a door, a most intelligencing bod. 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. Traders, will you not push her out? Give her the bastard. Thou, dotard, thou art woman tired, unruisted by thy deem partlet here, take up the "'Take it up, I say. Give it to thy crone.

"'Forever unvenerable be thy hands "'if thou takest up the princess "'by that forced baseness which he has put upon it.' "'He dreads his wife. "'So I would you did. "'Then were past all doubt you'd call your children yours. "'A nest of traitors. "'I am none but this good light.

"'Nor I, nor any but one that's here, "'and that's himself, "'for he the sacred honour of himself, "'his queens, his hopeful sons, his babes betrays to slander, whose sting is sharper than the swords, and will not, for as the case now stands it is a curse he cannot be compelled to it, once removed the root of his opinion which is as rotten as ever oak or stone was sound. A callet of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband and now baits me.

This brat is none of mine, it is the issue of polluxonies. Hence with it, and together with the dam, commit them to the fire. It is yours. And might we lay the 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, I, nose, lip, the trick of s frown, his forehead, nay, the valley, the pretty dimples of his chin and cheek, his smiles the very mouldened 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 amongst all colours no yellow in't lest she suspect as he does her children not her husbands a gross hag and lozal thou art worthy to be hanged that wilt not stay her tongue hang all the husbands that cannot do that feet. You'll leave yourself hardly one subject. Once more, take her hence. A most unworthy and unnatural lord can do no more. I'll have thee burnt. 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-hinged fancy, something savors of tyranny and will ignoble make you, yea, scandalous to the world. 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. I pray you do not push me. I'll be gone.

Look to your babe, my lord, tis yours. Jove sent her a better guiding spirit. What needs these hands? You that are thus so tender or his follies will never do him good. not one of you. So, so farewell, we are gone. Exit. Thou traitor hast set on thy wife to this, my child, away with it. Even thou that hast a heart so tender o'er it, take it hence, and see it instantly consumed 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 what thou else callest thou.

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 settest on thy wife. I did not, sir. These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, can clear me in it. We can. My royal leech, he is not guilty of her coming hither. Your liars all.

Beceit, Your Highness, give us better credit. We have always truly served you, and beseech you 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. 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. Hugh, sir, come you hither. You that have been so tenderly officious with Lady Marjorie, your midwife there, to save this bastard's life, for tis a bastard,

as sure as this beard's grey, what will you adventure to save this Brat's life? 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. It shall be possible. Swear by this sword thou wilt perform my bidding. I will, my law. Mark and perform it, seest thou, for the fail of any point in it shall not only be death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued wife, whom for this time we pardon.

We enjoin thee, as thou art liege man 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 its own protection and favor of the climate. As by strange fortune it came to us, I do injustice 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. I swear to do this. Though a present death had been more merciful.

Come on, poor babe. Some powerful spirit instructs the kites and ravens to be thy nurses, wolves and bears, they say casting their savageness aside have done like officers of pity. Sir, be prosperous in more than this deed does require, and blessing against this cruelty fight on thy side, poor thing condemned to loss exit with the child now i'll not rear another's issue enter a servant please your highness posts from those you sent to the oracle are come an hour since cleomones and dionne being well arrived from delphos are both landed hastening to the court

so please you sir their speed hath been beyond a count 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 accused, so shall she have a just and open trial. While she lives my heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me and think upon my bidding. Exeunt. End of Act 2 Act 3 of the Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information, or to volunteer, please, visit Libravox.org. Act 3, Scene 1, a seaport in Sicilia. Enter Cleomenes and Dion. The climates delicate. The air most sweet, fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing, the common praise it bears. I shall report for most it caught me the celestial habits, methinks I should so term them,

and the reverence of the grave-wereer so, the sacrifice. How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly it was in the offering. But of all, the burst, and the ear-deafning voice of the article, keen to Joves' thunder, so surprised my sense that I was nothing. If the event of the journey prove as successful to the Queen, be it so. As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, the time is worth the use on't.

Great Apollo, turn out to the best, these proclamations. So forcing faults upon Hermione I little like. The violent carriage of it will clear or end the business. When the oracle, thus by Apollo's great divine sealed up, shall the contents discover, something rare even then We'll rush to knowledge. Go, fresh horses and gracious be the issue. Exeunt. Act 3, Scene 2. A Court of Justice. Enter Liantes, lords, and officers.

This sessions to our great grief we pronounce even pushes against our heart. The party tried, the daughter of a king, our wife, and one of us too much beloved. Let us be cleared of being tyrannous since we so openly proceed injustice, which shall have due course, even to the guilt or the purgation. Produce the prisoner. It is His Highness pleasure that the Queen appear in person, here in court. Silence! Enter Hermione, Guarded, Paulina, and Ladies Attending. Read the indictment.

Reads. Hermione, Queen to the worthy Lanties, can. of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason in committing adultery with Palixenese, king of Bohemia, and conspiring with Camilo, to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband, the pretense whereof being, by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them for their better safety to fly away by night. Since what I am to say must be but that which contradicts my accusation,

and the testimony on my part no other but what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me to say not guilty. Mine integrity, being counted falsehood, shall as I express it be so received. But thus, if powers divine, be wholly. hold our human actions, as they do, I doubt not then but innocence shall make false accusation blush and tyranny tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know, who least will seem to do so, my past life hath been as continent, as chaste, as true as I am now unhappy, which is more

than history can pattern, though devised and played 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 for who please to come and hear. For life I prize it as I weigh grief which I would spare. For honour, tis a derivative for, from me to mine and only that I stand for. I appeal to your own conscience, sir, before pelixenies 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 strained to appear thus, if one jot beyond the bound of honor, or an act or will that way inclining, hardened be the hearts of all that hear me, and my nearest of kin cry thigh upon my grave.

I ne'er heard yet that any of these bolder vices wanted less impudence to gainsay what they did than to perform it first. That's true enough, though tis a saying, sir, not due to me. You will not own it. More than mistress of which comes to me in name of fault I must not at all acknowledge. For pelixenies, with whom I am accused,

I do confess I loved him as in honor 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 in gratitude 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 dished for me to try how. All I know of it is that Camilla was an honest man, and why he left your court, the gods themselves watching no more than I are ignorant. You knew of his departure, as you know what you have entertained to do in his absence.

Sir, you speak a language that I understand not. My life stands in the level of your dreams which I'll lay down. Your actions are my. dreams. You had a bastard by polyxenies, and I but dreamed 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. 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 favor 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 barred like one infectious. My third comfort, starred most unluckily, is from my breast.

The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth hailed out to murder. Myself on every post proclaimed a strumpet, with immodest hatred the childbed privilege denied, which longs to women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried here to this place in 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 honor, which I would free. If I shall be condemned 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. This your request is altogether just.

Therefore bring forth, and in Apollo's name, his oracle. Exeunt certain officers. 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! Reenter officers with Cleomenes and Dion. You here shall swear or, upon this sword of justice, that you, Cleomones, and Dion, have been both at Dolphos,

and from thence have brought the seals-up oracle by the hand delivered of great Apollo's priest, and that since then you have not dared to break the Holy Seal, nor read the secrets in it. With Dion All these we swear. Break up the seals and read. Reads. Hermione is chased.

Polixenese, blameless, Camilo, a true subject, Leonty's, a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe, truly begotten, and the king shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found. Now blessed be the great Apollo! Praised! Hast thou read truth? I, my lord, even so as it is here set down. There is no truth at all, in the oracle. oracle. The sessions shall proceed. This is mere falsehood. Enter servant.

My lord, the king, the king! What is the business? 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. How? Gone? Is dead. Apollo's angry. And the heavens themselves do strike at my injustice.

Hermione swoons. How now there? This news is mortal to the queen. Look down and see what death is doing. Take her hence. Her heart is but oarcharged. She will recover. I have too much believed mine own suspicion.

Beseech you tenderly apply to her some remedies for life. Exeunt Polina and ladies with Hermione. Apollo, pardon my great profaneness, Gaints thine o'est thine or, I'll reconciled me to Palixenese, new Wu, 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 Polyxonies, which had been done but that the good mind of

Camillo tardied my swift command, though I with death and with reward did thither. threaten and encourage him, not doing it and being done. He, most humane and filled with honor, to my kingly guest unclasped my practice, quit his fortunes here which you knew great, and to the hazard of all uncertainties himself commended, no richer than his honor. How he glisters through my rust, and how his pity does my deeds make the blacker. Paulina. Woe the while! O cut my lace lest my heart,

cracking it break too! What fit is this, good lady? 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. Oh, think what they have done and then run mad, indeed stark mad. For all thy bygone fooleries were but spices of it. That thou betray'dst polyxonies'd was nothing. That did but show thee of a fool,

inconstant and damnable and grateful. Nor wast much that thou wouldst have poisoned 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 none or little, "'though a devil would have shed water out of fire ere done it. "'Nor is 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 blemished his gracious dam. "'This is not, no, laid to thy answer. "'But the last, O Lord's, I have said cry woe. The queen, the queen, the sweetest, dearest creatures dead, and vengeance for it not dropped down yet. The higher powers forbid. I say she's dead. I'll swear it. 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, oh, thou tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier than all thy woes can stir. Therefore betake thee to nothing but to spare. 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. Go on, go on, thou canst not speak too much. I have deserved all tongues to talk their bitterest. Say no more. How ere the business goes, you have made fault in the boldness of your speech.

Oh, I am sorry for it. All faults I make when I shall come to know them, I do repent. Alas, I have showed too much the rashness of a woman. He is touched to the noble heart. What's gone and what's past help should be past grief. Do not receive affliction at my petition. I beseech you rather let me be punished, 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.

Thou didst speak but well when most the truth, which I receive much better than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me to the dead bodies of my queen and son. One grave shall be for both. Upon them shall the causes of their death appear unto our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit the chapel where they lie, And tears shed there shall be my recreation. So long as nature will bear up with this exercise, so long I daily vow to use it.

Come and lead me unto these sorrows. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 3. Bohemia, a desert country near the sea. Enter Antigonus with a child and a mariner. Thou art perfect, then. Our ship hath touched upon the deserts of Bohemia. I, my lord, and fear we have landed in ill time.

the skies will grimly and threaten present blusters. In my conscience the heavens, with that we have in hand, are angry and frown uponst. Their sacred wills be done. Go get aboard, look to thy bark. I'll not be long before I call upon thee. Make your best haste, and go not too far in the land. Tis like to be loud weather. Besides, this place is famous for the creatures of prey that keep on't. Go thou away. I'll follow instantly.

I'm glad at heart to be so rid of the business. Exit. Come, poor babe. I have heard but not believed. The spirits over the dead may walk again. If such things be thy mother appeared to me last night, for near was a 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 filled and so becoming. in pure white robes like very sanctity she did approach my cabin where I lay. Thrice bowed 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 loss for ever, purditor, I prithee call it. For this ungentle business, Put on thee by my lord, Thar ne'er shall see thy wife, Polina more. And so with shrieks, She melted into air, a frightened 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 would be squared by this. I do believe Hermione has suffered death, and that Apollo would this being indeed the issue of King Pollock's knees? It should here be laid, either for life or death

upon the earth of its right father blossom speed thee well there lie and there thy character there these which may if fortune please both breed thee pretty and still rest thine the storm begins poor wretch

that for thy mother's fault are thus exposed to loss and what may follow Weep, I cannot but my heart bleeds And most accursed am I to be by oath enjoined to this Farewell The day frowns more and more Thou would like to have a lullaby too rough I never saw

The heaven so dim by day A savage clamour Well may I get aboard this is the chase. I'm gone forever. Exit pursued by a bear. Enter a shepherd. I would there were no age between 16 and 3 and 20, or that you'd slip out the rest.

For there is nothing in the between, but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancient tree, stealing, fighting. Hark you now. Would any but this ball break, pains of nineteen and two and twenty hunt this weather. They have scared away two of my best ship, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master.

If anywhere I have them, it is by the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, and be divil, what have we here? Mursie on is a burn, a very pretty burn. 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 stairwork some trunkwork some behind door work they were vermin that got this then the poor thing is here i'll take it up for pity yet i'll tarry till my son come he hallowed but even now wha ho ho ho Enter clown. Hello, Lou!

What are so near? If thou'll see a thing to talk on when they are dead and rotten come here. What ails thou, man? 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. Why, boy, how is it? I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore, but that's not the point. Oh, the most piteous cry of the poor souls, sometimes to see him and not to see him. Now the ship, boring the moon with her main mast and a non, swallowed with yest and froth

as you thrust a cork into a hogshead and then for the land service to see how the bear tore out his shoulder bone and how he cried to me for help and said his name was Antigonus a nobleman

but to make an end of the ship to see how the sea flap-dragoned it but first how the poor souls roared and the sea mocked them and how the poor gentleman roared And the bear mocked him

Both roaring louder than the sea or weather Name of mercy When was this boy Now, now I have not winked since I saw these sights The men are not yet cold underwater Nor the bear half dined on the gentleman He's at it now

Odae had been by To have helped the old man I would you had been by the ship's side to have helped her. There your charity would have lacked footing. Heavy matters, heavy matters. But look thee here, boy. Now bless yourself. Don matters with things dying.

Aye, with things new born. Here's your sight for thee. Look thee, a bearing clout for a square's child. Look thee here. Take up, take up, boy. Opened. So, let us see. It was told me I should be rich by the fairies.

This is some changeling. Open it. What is we dean, boy? You're a maid, old man. If the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold, all gold. This is fairy gold, boy,

and it will prove so. Up with it, keep it close. Home, home, the next way. We are lucky. And to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my ship go. Come, good-bye, the next way home. 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 cursed, but when they are hungry. If there be any of him left, I'll bury it. That is a good deed. If thou mayst discern by that which is left of him, what he is. Fetch me to the side of him. Mary will I, and you shall help put him in the ground. It is a lucky day, boy, and I will do good deeds on it.

Exeant. End of Act 3. Act 4 of the Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, Please visit Libravox.org. Act 4, scene one. Chorus as time speaks.

Enter time, the chorus. 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 power to o'er throw law, and in one self-born hour to plant and our whelm custom. Let me pass the same I am ere ancient's order was or what is now received. 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 leonti's leaving the effect 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 mentioned a son of the kings which slorizel i now name to you and with speed so pace to speak of purditer now grown in grace equal with wondering what a-o'rtle i now know name to you-o'ridae now grown in grace equal with wondering what a-o'rishal i now-morrow 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 the 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. it. Act four, scene two. Bohemia, the palace of Pallixenese. Enter Pallixenese and Camilo. I pray thee good Camillo, be no more importunate. Tis a sickness denying the anything, a death to grant this. It is fifteen years since I saw my country. Though I have for the most part been abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. besides the penitent king my master has 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 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, Cecilia Prithee, speak no more, whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou callest 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 sawest thou the Prince Floresel, my son? Kings are no less unhappy their issue not being gracious than they are in losing them when they have approved their virtues. 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 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 unto an unspeakable estate i have heard sir of such a man who have a daughter of most rare note the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage that's likewise part of my intelligence but i fear the angle that plucks our son thither thou shalt accompany us to that 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 gritty be my present partner in this business and lay aside the thoughts of Cecilia. I willingly obey your command. My best, Camillo. We must disguise ourselves. Exeunt.

Act four, scene three. A road near the shepherd's cottage. Enter Autulicus, singing. When dappardils begin to be, with hay, the doxy over the dale,

Why then comes in the sweet of the year For the red blood rains in the winter's pale The white sheet bleaching on the hedge With hay the sweet birds oh how they sing Doth set my pugging tooth on edge For a quart of ale as a dish for a king The lark the tear a little chance With hay with he with the thrush and the G

Are some the songs for me and my aunts While we lie tumbling in the hay I have served Prince Floress-El And in my time wore three pile But now I'm 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 sowskin budget, Then my account I well may give. I'd end the stocks a vouch it. My traffic is sheets. When the kite builds, look to the lesser linen. My father named me

Ortolicus, who, being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper up of unconsidered trifles. With dye and drab, I purchased this comparison, and my revenue is the silly cheat. Gallows and dock are too powerful on the highway. Ooh, beating and anging a terrors to me. For the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. A prize, a prize! Enter Clown.

Let me see. Every leaven weather tods, every tod yields pound and odd shilling. Fifteen hundred shorn. What comes the wool to? Aside. If the springe hold, The cock's mine. I cannot do it without counters.

Let me see. What am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pounds of sugar, five pounds of currants, rice. What will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father have made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She has made me four and twenty nosegays for the shearers, three man, songmen 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 pounds of prunes and as many of raisins of the sun oh the ever I was born grovelling on the ground in the name of me

oh help me plough but off these rags and then death death alack poor soul thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee rather than have these off oh sir the loathes

of them offends me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions. Alas, poor man, a million of beating may come to a great matter. I am robbed, sir, and beaten. My money and apparel tained from me, and these detestable things put upon me. What, by a horseman or a footman? A footman, sweet sir, a footman. Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he has left with thee. If this be a horseman's coat, it has seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee.

Come lend me thy hand. Oh, good sir, tenderly. Oh. Alas, poor soul! Oh, good sir. Softly good sir. I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out. How now? Can't stand? Picking his pocket.

Softly, dear sir. Good sir, softly. You are done me a charitable office. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. No, good sweet sir, no. I beseech you, sir. I have a kinsman, not past three quarters of a mile hence, under whom I was going. I shall there have money or anything I I want. Offer me no money, I pray you, that kills my art. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you? 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 whipped out of the court.

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. Vices, I would say, sir, I know this man well. He hath been since an ape-bearer. Then a process server, a bailiff, then encompassed a motion of the prodigal son, and married a Tinker's wife within a mile of where my land and living lies. And, having flown over many Navy professions he settled only in rogue some call him autolicus out upon him prig for my life he haunts wakes fairs and bear baitings very true sir he sir he that's the rogue that put me into this apparel not a more cowardly rogue in all bohemia if you had but

looked big and spit at him he'd have run I must confess to you, sir. I am no fighter. I have false of heart that way, and that he knew I warrant him. How do you now? 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 kinsmen's. Shall I bring thee on the way? No good-faced, sir, no, sweet sir. Then fare thee well, I must go buy spices for our sheep shearing. Prosper you, sweet sir. Exit clown.

Your Percy's not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep shearing too. And if I make not this sheep bring out another, and the shearers prove it sheep, let me be unrolled, and my name put in the book of virtue. Jog on, jog on the foot. pathway and merrily hint the style hey our merry heart goes all the day your sad tires in a mile exit act four scene four the shepherd's cottage enter florizel and pertita these your unusual weeds

each part of you to give a life. No shepherdess, but flora appearing in April's front. This your sheep-shearing is as a meeting of the petty gods, and you the queen on it. Sir, my gracious Lord, to chide at your extremes it not becomes me, pardon that I name them. Your high self, the gracious mark of the land you have obscured with a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid, most goddess-like pranked up, but that our feasts in every mess have folly, and the feeders digest it with a custom, I should blush to see you so attired, sworn, I think, to show myself a glass. I blessed the time when my good falcon made her flight across thy father's ground. Now Jova Ford you cause. To me the difference forges dread.

Your greatness have not been used to fear. Even now I tremble to think your father by some accident should pass this way as you did. Oh, 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 borrowed flaunts, behold the sternness of his presence? Apprehend nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, humbling their deities to love, have taken the shape of beasts upon them. Jupiter became a bull and bellowed, the green Neptune, a ram, and bleated, and the fire-robed god, golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, as I seem now. Their transformations were never for a piece of beauty rarer,

nor in a way so chaste, since my desires run not before mine honour, nor my lusts burn hotter than my faith. Oh, but, sir, your resolution cannot hold when tis opposed, 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 this purpose, or I my life.

Thou dearest Pertita, with these forced thoughts I prithee, darken not the mirth of the feast, Or I'll be thine, my fair, or not my fathers, for I cannot be mine own, nor anything to any, if I be not thine. To this I am most constant, though destinies say no. Be merry, gentle, strangle such thoughts as these with anything that you behold the while. Your guests are coming. Lift up your countenance, as it were the day of celebration, celebration of that nuptial which we too have sworn shall come o lady fortune stand you auspicious see your guests approach address yourself to entertain them sprightly and let's be red with mirth enter shepherd clown mopsa dorcas and others with polyxenies and camillo disguised fie daughter when my old wife lived upon these days he was both mantler butler butler cook. Both a dame and servant, welcome, doll, served all, with sing our song and then

her turn, now here, at upper and out the table, now in the middle, on his shoulder and he's, her face of fire, with lever and the things he took to quench it, see you to each one's see, you were redid as if were a fisted one and not the hostess of the meeting. Pray you, Be these unknown friends to us 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 of the fist. Come on, and bid us welcome to your ship-sharing, as your good flock shall prosper. To Palixenies.

Sir, welcome. It is my father's will that I should take on me the hostess ship of the day. To Camillo. You're welcome, sir. Give me those flowers here, Dorcas. Reverend says, 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. Shepherd us, a fair one are you. Well, you fit our ages with flowers of winter.

Sir, the year-growing ancient, not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth of trembling winter, the fairest flowers of the season are our carnations, and our carnations, and streaked gillivores, which some called nature's bastards. Of that kind are rustic gardens barren, and I care not to get slips of them. Wherefore, gentle maiden, do you neglect them? For I have heard it said there is an art which in their piredness shares with great creating nature. Say there be, yet nature is made better by no mean, but nature makes that mean. So over that art, which you say adds to nature, is an art that nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry a gentle or sion to the wildest stock, and make conceive a bark of baser kind by bud of nobler race.

This is an art which does mend nature, change it rather, but the art itself is nature. So it is. Then make your garden rich in gillivores, and do not call them bastards. I'll not put the dibble in the earth to set one slip of them. No more than where I painted I would wish this youth should say twere well, and only therefore desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you. Hot lavender, mince, savoury, margarum, the marigold that goes to bed with the sun and with him rises weeping.

These are flowers of middle summer, and I think they are given to men of middle age. You're very welcome. I should leave grazing, where I have your flock and only live by gazing. Outer lass, you'd be so lean that blasts of January would blow you through and through. Now, my fairest friend, I would I had some flowers of the spring that might become your time of day, and yours? and yours, that were upon your virgin branches yet your maidenheads growing. O prosopina, for the flowers now that frighted thou let's fall from Diss's wagon. Daffodils that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of march with beauty.

Violets dim, but sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes or Scythia's breath. Pale primroses that Diane married, ere they can behold bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady most incident to maids. bold ox-lips and the crown imperial lilies of all kinds the flower de luce being one oh these i lack to make you garlands of and my sweet friend to strew him o'er and o'er what like a course no like a bank for love to lie and play on not like a corpse or if not to be buried but quick and in mine arms come take your flowers methinks i play as i have seen them do in wits and pastoral's sure this robe of mine does change my disposition what you do still better's what is done when you speak sweet i'll have you do it ever when you sing i'll have you buy and sell so so give alms pray so and for the ordering your affairs to sing them too when you do dance i wish you a wave of the sea that you might ever do nothing but that move still still so and oh no other function each your doing so singular in each particular crowns what you are doing in the present deed that all your acts are queens O Dorocles, your praises are too large, but that your youth and the true blood which peepeth fairly through it

do plainly give you out an unstained shepherd. With wisdom, I fear, my Dorocles, you wooed me the false way. I think you have as little skill to fear as I have purpose to put you to it. But come, our dance, I pray. Your hand, my pertita, so turtles pair that never mean to part. I'll swear for him. This is the prettiest lobe-worn lass that ever ran on the green sward. Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than herself, too noble for this place.

He tells her something that makes her blood look out. Good sooth, she is the queen of curds and cream. Come on, strike up! Mopsa must be your mistress. Mary, garlic, to mend her kissing with. Now in good time. Not a word, a word. we stand upon our manners.

Come, strike up. Music. Hear a dance of shepherds and shepherdesses. Pray good shepherd. What fair swain is this which dances with your daughter? They call him Doriclus, and boasts himself to have a worthy fairy, but I have it upon his own report, and I believe it. It looks like sued.

He says he loves my daughter. I think so, too, for never gazed a moon upon the water as he will stand, and read as it were my daughter's eyes. And to be plain, I think there is not half a kiss to choose who loves Xana the best. She dances featly. So she does anything, though I reported. That should be silent, if young Doriclus, to light upon her,

she shall bring him that which he not dreams of. Enter servant. Oh, master, if you did but hear the peddler at the door, you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe. Oh, the bagpipe could not move you. He sings several tunes faster than you'll tell money. He utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grew to his tunes. He could never come better.

He shall come in. I love a ballad, but even too well. If it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably. He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes, No milliner can so fit his customers with gloves. He has the prettiest love songs for maids. So without bawdery, which is strange,

but such delicate burthens of dildos and fadings, jumper and thumper, and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer, whoop, do me no harm, good man, puts him off, slates him with,

whoop, do me no harm, good man. This is a brave fellow. Believe me, thou talk'st of an, admirable conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares? He hath ribbons of all the colors of the rainbow, points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross. Incles, caddasses, cambricks, lawns, why he sings him over as they were gods or goddesses. You would think a smock were a she angel he so chanced to the sleeve hand and the work about the square-aunt. Prithee, bring him in,

and let him approach singing. Foreworn him that he used no scurrilous words in his tunes. Exit, servant. You have of these peddlers that have more in them than you'd think, sister. I good brother, or go about to think. Enter Artulicus, singing. Lawn as white as driven snow, cypress black as air was crow. Gloves as sweet as damp.

mask roses, masks for faces and for noses. Bugle, bracelet, necklace, amber, perfume for a lady's chamber. Golden quaffes and stomacers, for my lads to give their dears. Pins and poking sticks of steel, what made slack from head to heel. to heal. Come by of me, come, Come, come by, come by, by, lads,

or else your lass's cry, Come by, come by. If I were not in love with Mopsa, Thou should take no money of me, but being enthralled as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves. Hours promised them against a feast, but they come not too late now. He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.

He hath paid you all he promised you. Maybe he has paid you more, which will shame you to give him again. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they wear their placets where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking time when you are going to bed or kiln-hole to whistle off these secrets? But you must be titlet-tattling before all our guests. Tis well they are whispering. Clammer your tongues and not a word more.

I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry lace and a pair of sweet gloves. Have I not told thee how I was cousined by the way and lost all of. my money. And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad. Therefore, it behoves men to be wary. Fear not, thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here. I hope so, sir, for I have about me many parcels of charge. What hast here? Ballads. Pray now, buy some. I love a ballad in printer life, for then we are sure they are true. Here's one to a very dull, tune, how a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money bags at a burden, and how she

longed to eat adders' ends and toad's carbonadoed. Is it true, thank you? Very true, and but a month old. Bless me for marrying a usurer. Here's the midwife's name, Toot, one mistress tailporter, and in five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad? Pray you now, buy it. Come on, lay it by, and let's first see more ballads. We'll buy the other things anon. Here's another ballad of a fish that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday, the four score of April, 40,000 fathom above water,

and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids. It was thaw. She was a woman and was turned into a cold fish, for she would not exchange fresh with one that loved her. The ballad is very pitiful and as true. Is it true too, think you? Five justices hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack will hold.

Lay it by two, another. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one. Let's have some merry ones. Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to the tune of two maids wooing a man. The scarce a maid westward, but she sings it. Tis in request, I can tell you.

We can both sing it, if thou'd bear a part, thou shalt hear. Tis in three parts. We had the tune on two months ago. I can bear my part. You must know, tis my occupation. Have at it with you. Song. Get you hence, for I must go where it fits not you to know.

Whither? Oh, whither. Wither! It becomes thy oathful well, though to me thy secrets tell. Me too, let me go thither. Or thou goest to the orange or mill. If to either thou dost ill. Neither. What, neither?

Neither. Thou hast sworn my love to be. Thou hast sworn it more to me, than wither goest, say, whither. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves. My father and the gentlemen are in sad talk and will not trouble them. Come, bring away thy pack after me. Wences, I'll buy for you both. Pedlar, let's have the first choice.

Follow me, girls. Exit with Dorcas and Mopsa. And you shall pay well for him. Follow singing. Will you buy any tape or lace for your kids? My dainty duck, my dear, any silk, any thread. Any toys for your head of the newest and finest, finest wery. Come to the peddler, monies a meddler that thou thought a whole man's wearie.

Exit. Reenter servant. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three meat herds, three swine herds, that have made themselves all men of hair. They call themselves saltiers, and they have a dance, which the wenches say is a gallomoffery of gambles because they are not in it. But they themselves are of the mind, if it be not too rough. For some that know little but bowling, it will please plentifully. Away! We will none on it.

Here has been too much homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you. You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danced before the king, and not the worst of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squire.

Leave your pratting. Since this good man, I've pleased, let them come in, but quickly now. What, they stay at the door, sir. Exit. Here, a dance of twelve satyrs. O father, you'll know more of that hereafter. To Camilo.

Is it not too far gone? Tis time to part them. He's simple and tells much. To Floresal. How now, fair shepherd. Your heart is full of something that does take your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young and handed love as you do, I was wont to load my she with knacks.

I would have ransacked the peddler's silken treasury and have poured it to her acceptance. You have let him go, and nothing martyed with him. If your lass interpretation should abuse and call this your lack of love or bounty, you were straighted for a reply, or at least if you make a care of happy holding her. Old sir, I know she prizes not such trifles as these are. The gifts she looks from me are packed and locked up in my heart, which I have given already, but not delivered. Oh, hear me breathe my life before this ancient sir,

who it should seem hath sometime loved. I take thy hand, this hand, as soft as doves down and as white as it, or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fanned snow that's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er. What follows this? How prettily the young swain seems to wash the hand was fair before. I have put you out.

But to your protestation, let me hear what you profess. Do, and be a witness to it. And this my neighbor, too? And he, am more than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, and all. That, where I crowned the most imperial monarch, thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth that ever made I swerve, had force and knowledge more than was ever man's, I would not prize them without her love, as her. employ them all. Commend them and condemn them to her service or to their own perdition.

Fairly offered. This shows a sound affection. But my daughter say you delight to him. I cannot speak so well, nothing so well, no, nor mean better. By the pattern of my own thoughts I cut out the purity of his. Take hands, a bargain, and friends unknown you shall be witness to it. I give my daughter to him, and will make heart. How portion equal he's.

Oh, that must be in the virtue of your daughter. One being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet. Enough then for your wonder, but come on, contract us for these witnesses. Come your hand, and daughter yours. Soft Twain, a while, beseech you. Have you a father? I have, but what of him? Knows he of this? He neither does nor shall.

Methinks a father is at the nuptial of his son a guest that best becomes the table. Pray you once more, is not your father grown incapable of reasonable affairs? Is he not stupid with age and altering rooms? Can he speak? Here, no man from man, dispute his own estate. Lies he not bed-rid and again does nothing but what he did being childish? No, good sir. He has his health, and ampler strength indeed than most have of his age. By my white beard. You offer him, if this be so, a wrong something unfilial. Reason my son should choose himself a wife, but as good reason, the father, all whose joy is nothing else but fair posterity, should hold some counsel in such a business. I yield all this, but for some other reasons, my grave, sir, which does not fit you know, I'm not acquaint my father of this business.

Let him note. He shall not. Prithee, let him. No, he must not. Let him, my son. He shall not need to grieve at knowing of thy choice. Come, come, he must not. Mark our contract.

Mark your divorce, young sir. Discovering himself. Whom, son, I dare not call, thou art too base to be acknowledged. Thou a sceptor's heir that thus affects to sheep hook. Thou, old traitor, I am sorry that by Hanging thee, I can but shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece of excellent witchcraft, Who of force must know the royal fool thou copest with?

Oh, my heart! I'll have thy beauty scratched with briars and made more homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy! If I may ever know thou dost but sigh that no more shalt see this knack, as never I mean thou shalt. We'll bar thee from succession, not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, far than Ducalion off. Mark thou my words. Follow us to the court. Thou, Churl, for this time, though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee from the dead blow of it.

And you, enchantment, worthy enough a herdsman, yea, him too, that makes himself, but for our honour therein, unworthy thee, if ever henceforth thou these rural latches, to his entrance open, or hoop his body more with thy embraces, I will devise a death as cruel for thee as thou art tender to it. Exit. Even here, undone, I was not much of feared. For once or twice I was about to speak and tell him plainly the self-same sun

that shines upon his court hides not its visage from our cottage, but looks on alike. Will't please you, sir, be gone. I told you what would come of this. Beseech you of your own state, take care. This dream of mine, being now awake, I'll queen at no inch farther,

but milk my ewes and weep. Why, how not? Now, father, speak, ere thou diest. I cannot speak, nor think, nor dare to know that which I know. Oh, sir, you have undone a man of fourscore tree. That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yet to die upon the bed when my father died. To lie close by his honest bones. But now some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me, where no priest's shovels and dust.

O, castorach, that knewest this was the prince, an oaths to adventure to mingle fate with him, undone, undone, if I might die within this hour, I have lived to die when I desire. Exit. Why look you so upon me? I am but sorry, not afeard, delayed, but nothing altered. What I was, I am, more straining on for plucking back, not following my leash unwillingly.

Gracious, my lord, you know your father's temper. At this time he will allow no speech, which I do guess you do not propose to him, and as hardly will he endure your sight as yet, I fear. Then, till the fury of His Highness settle, come not before him. I not purpose it, I think, Camillo. Even he, my lord.

How often have I told you twould be thus? How often said my dignity would last but till to an It cannot fail but by the violation of my faith, and then let nature crush the sides of the earth together and mar the seeds within. Lift up thy looks. From my succession, wipe me, father. I am heir to my affection. Be advised. I am. And by my fancy, if my reason will, there to be obedient, I have reason. If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, do bid it welcome. this is desperate sir so call it but it does fulfil my vow i needs must think it honesty camillo not for bohemia nor the pomp that may be thereat gleaned For all the sun's seas, or the close earth wombs,

or the profound sea hides and unknown fathoms, will I break my oath to this, my fair beloved. Therefore I pray you, as you have ever been my father's honored friend, when he shall miss me, as in faith I mean not to see him any more. Cast your good counsels upon his passion. Let myself and fortune tug for the time to come.

This you may know and so deliver, I am put to sea with her whom here I cannot hold on shore. And most opportune to our need I have, a vessel rides fast by, but not prepared for this design. What course I mean to hold shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor concern me the reporting. Oh, my lord, I would your spirit were easier for advice or stronger for your need?

Harkpertida. Drawing her aside. I'll hear you by and by. He's irremovable. Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if he's going, I could frame to serve my turn. Save him from danger, do him love and honor. Purchase the sight again of dear Cecilia and that unhappy king my master,

whom I so much thirst to see. Now, good Camillo, I am so fraught with curious business that I leave out ceremony. Sir, I think you have heard of my master. poor services in the love that I have borne your father. Very nobly have you deserved. It is my father's music to speak your deeds, not little of his care to have them recompensed as thought on. Well, my lord, if you may please to think I love the king and through him what is nearest

to him, which is your gracious self, embrace but my direction, if your more ponderous and settled project may suffer alteration. on mine honour, I'll point you where you shall have such receiving as shall become your highness, where you may enjoy your mistress from whom I see there's no disjunction to be made, but by, as heavens forfend, your ruin, marry her, and with my best endeavours in your absence, your discontenting father strive to qualify and bring him up to liking. How, Camillo, may this almost a miracle, be able to be. done, that I may call thee something more than man, and after that, trust to thee.

Have you thought on a place where to you'll go? Not any yet, but as the unthought-on accident is guilty to what we wildly do, so we profess ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies of every wind that blows. Then list to me. This follows, if you will not change your purpose but undergo this flight, make for Sicilia. and there present yourself and your fair princess for so i see she must be for leontes she shall be habited as it becomes the partner of your bed methinks i see leontes opening his free arms and weeping his welcomes forth asks thee the son forgiveness as twere in the father's person kisses the hands of your fresh princess o'er and oar divides him twixt his unkindness and his kindness the one he chides to hell and bids the other grow faster than thought or time.

Worthy, Camillo, what color for my visitation shall I hold up before him? Sent by the king your father to greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, the manner of your bearing towards him, with what you as from your father shall deliver, things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down, the which shall point you forth at every sitting what you must say, that he shall not perceive, but that you have your father's bosom there and speak his very heart. I am bound to you. There is some sap in this.

A cause more promising than a wild dedication of yourselves to unpathed waters, undreamed shores, most certain to miseries enough. No hope to help you, but as you shake off one to take another. Nothing so certain as your anchors who do their best office, if they can but stay, you where you'll be loath to be besides you know prosperity is the very bond of love whose fresh complexion and whose heart together affliction alters one of these is true i think affliction may subdue the cheek but not take in the mind yea say you so there shall not at your father's house these seven years be born another such my good camillo she is as forward of her breeding as she is in the rear our birth i cannot say tis pity she lacks instructions for she seems a mistress to most that teach your pardon sir for this i'll bless you thanks my prettiest purita oh but oh the thorns we stand upon camillo preserve her of my father now of me the medicine of our house, how shall we do? We are not furnished like Bohemia's son, nor shall appear in Sicilia.

My lord, fear none of this. I think you know my fortunes do all lie there. It shall be so my care to have you royally appointed as if the scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, that you may know you shall not want. One word. They talk aside. Reenter Artulicus. What a full honesty is!

And trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman. I have sold all my trumpery, not a counterfeit stone, not a ribbon, glass, pommander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn ring to keep my pack from fasting. They throng, who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer.

By which means I saw whose purse was best in picture. And what I saw, for my good use, I remembered. My clown, who wants but something to be a reasonable man, grew so in love with the wenchish song that he would not stir his petty toes until he had both tune and words, which so drew the rest of the herd to me that their other senses stuck in ears.

you might have pinched a placate it was senseless twas nothing to gel to codpiece of a purse i could have filed keys off that hung in chains no earing no feeling but my sir's song and admiring the nothing of it so that in this time of lethargy i picked and cut most of their festival purses and had not the old man come in with a hubbub against his daughter and the king's son, and scared my chaffes from the chaff, I had not left the purse alive in the whole army. Camilo, Floresal, and Pertita come forward. Nay, but my letters, by this means being there so soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. And those that you'll procure from King Leontes shall satisfy your father.

Happy be you. All that you speak shows fair. Who have we here? Seeing Artulicus. We'll make an instrument of this. Omit nothing may give us aid. If they have overheard me now, why, hangings? How now, good fellow? Why shakeest thou so?

Fear not, man. Here's no harm intended to thee. I am a poor fellow, sir. Why, be so still, there's nobody will steal that from thee. Yet, for the outside of thy poverty, we must make an exchange. Therefore, discase thee instantly. thou must think there's a necessity in it and change garments with this gentleman though the pennyworth on his side be the worst yet hold thee there's some boot i'm a poor fellow sir aside i know ye well enough nay prithee dispatch the gentleman is half flayed already are you an earnest sir aside i smell a trick on Dispatch, I prithee.

Indeed, I have had earnest, but I cannot with conscience take it. Unbuckle, unbuckle! Floresal and Artulicus exchange garments. Fortunate mistress, let my prophecy come home to you. You must retire yourself into some covert. Take your sweetheart's hat and pluck it all your brows, muffle your face, dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken the truth of your own seeming. that you may for i do fear eyes over to shipboard get undescribed i see the place so lies that i must bear apart no remedy have you done there should i now meet my father he would not call me son nay you shall have no hat

giving it to purdata come lady come farewell my friend adieu sir o purdita what have we twain forgot pray you a word aside what i do next shall be to tell the king of this escape and whither they are bound wherein my hope is i shall so prevail to force him after in whose company i shall review sicilia for whose sight i have a woman's longing fortune speed us thus we set on camillo to the sea-side the swifter speed the better exeunt floriselle purdita and camillo I understand the business, I hear, to have an open ear, a quick eye and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cut purse, a good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been without boot? What a boot is here with this exchange?

Sure, the gods do this year, canine. us and we may do anything extempore the prince himself is about a piece of iniquity stealing away from his father with his clog at his heels if I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal I would not do it I hold it the more knavery to conceal it and therein am I constant to my profession re-enter clown and shepherd aside aside Here is more matter for an ot brain, every line's end, every shop, church, session, hanging yields a careful man work. See, see what a man you are now. There is no other way but to tell the king she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood.

Nay, but hear me. Nay, but hear me. Go to them. She, being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the king, and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show those things you found about her, those secret things, all but what she has with her. This being done, let the law go whistle. I warrant you. I will tell the king all, every wardier, and his son's pranks too. Who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his father, not to me, to go about to make me the king's brother-in-law.

Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you could have been to him, and then your blood had been the dearer by I know how much an ounce. Aside. Very wisely, puppies. Well, let us to the king. There is that in this foddle will make him scratch his beard. I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master. Pray heartily he be at palace. A sign.

Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance. Let me pocket up my peddler's excrement. Takes off his false beard. How now, Rustics, whither are you bound? To the palace. And it like your worship. You're a fair there? what with whom the condition of that fardle the place of your dwelling your names your ages of what having breeding and anything that is fitting to be known discover we are but plain fellows sir

a lie you are rough and heary let me have no lying it becomes none but tradesmen and they often give us soldiers the lie but we pay them for it with stamped coin not stabbing steeped therefore they do not give us the lie. Your worship had like to have given us one if you had not taken yourself with the manner. I'll recalleer, and like you, sir. Whether it like me or no, I am a court ear. Seest thou not the bear of the court in these enfoldings? Hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? Receives not thy nose, caught odour from me?

Reflect thy not on thy baseness, court contempt? thinkest thou for that i insinuate or toze from thee thy business i am therefore no courtier i am courtier caper pay a one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there whereupon i command thee to open thy affair my business sir is to the king what advocate hast thou to him i know not and like you advocates the court word for a pheasant Say you have none. None, sir. I have no pheasant cock nor hand. How blessed are we that are not simple men, yet nature might have made me as these are. Therefore I will not disdain.

This cannot be but a great courtier. His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely. He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical. A great man I'll warrant. I know by the picking on teeth. The fadle there, what's in the fardle? Wherefore that box? Sir, there lies such secret in this fardlein box,

which none must know but the king, and which he shall know within this hour, if I may come to the speech of him. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. Why, sir? The king is not at the palace. He has gone aboard a new ship to purge. melancholy and ear himself for if thou beest capable of things serious they must know the king is full of grief so it is said sir about his son that should have married a seford's daughter

if that shepherd be not in handfast let him fly the curses he shall have the tortures he shall feel will break the back of man the heart of monster think you so sir not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and vengeance bitter but those that are germane to him though removed fifty times shall all come under the hangman which though it be great pity yet it is necessary an old sheep whistling rogue a ram tender to offer to have his daughter come into grace some say he shall be stoned but that death is too soft for him say i draw our throne into a sheep-coat all deaths are too few the sharpest too easy has the old man air a son sir do you hear and like you sir he has a son who shall be flayed alive then nointed over with honey sit on the head of a wasp's nest then stand till he be three-quarters and a dram dead then recovered again with aqua vitae or some other hot infusion, then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall be set against a brick wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death. But what talk we of these straight-a-lea

rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled at, their offences being so capital? Tell me, for you seem to be honest, plain men, what have you to the, the king, being something gently considered, I'll bring you where he is aboard. Tend your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalf. And if it be in man, besides the king, to affect your suits, here is man shall do it. He seems to be of great authority. Close with him, give him gold, and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft-lead. by the nose with gold. Show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, and no more ado.

Remember, stoned and flayed alive? And please you, sir, to undertake the business for us. Here is that gold I have. I'll make it as much more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it to you. After I've done what I promised? Aye, sir. Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business? In some sort, sir, but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it.

Oh, that's the case of the shepherd's son. Hang him, he shall be made an example. Comfort! Good comfort! We must to the king and show our strange sights. He must know, tis none of your daughter nor my sister. We are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old man does when the business is performed and remain as he says your pawn till it be brought you.

I will trust you. Walk before toward the seaside. Go on the right hand. I will but look upon the hedge and follow you. We are blessed in this man as I may say even blessed. That is before as he beats us. He was provided to do us good.

Exeant, shepherd and clown. If I had a mind, to be honest, I see fortune would not suffer me. She drops booties in my mouth. I am cornered now with a double occasion, gold, and amines through the prince, my master, good. Which, who knows, how that may be. turn back to my advancement i will bring these two moles these blind ones aboard him if you think it fit to shore them again and that the complaint they have to the king concerns him nothing

let him call me rogue for being so far officious for i am proof against that title and what shame belongs to to him will i present them there may be matter in it Exit. End of Act 4. Act 5 of the Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 5, Scene 1.

A room in Leontes Palace. Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Paulina, and servants. Sir, you have done enough and have performed a saint-like sorrow, no fault could you make, which you have not redempt, indeed, paid down,

more penitents than done trespass. At last, do as the heavens have done. Forget your evil, with them forgive yourself. Whilst I remember her and her virtues, I cannot forget my blemptuous. in them, and so still think of the wrong I did myself, which was so much that, ereless, it hath made my kingdom, and destroyed the sweetest companion that ere man bred his hopes out of. True, too true, my lord. If one by one you wedded all the world, or from the all that are,

took something good to make a perfect woman, she you killed would be unparalleled. I think so. Killed. She I killed. I did so. But thou strikest me sorely to say I did. It is as bitter upon thy tongue as in my thought. Now, good now, say so but seldom.

Not at all, good lady. You might have spoken a thousand things that would have done the time more benefit and graced your kindness better. You are one of those would have him wed again. If you were not so, you pity. not the state nor the remembrance of his most sovereign name. Consider little what dangers by his highness fail of issue may drop upon his kingdom and devour in certain lookers-on.

What were more holy than to rejoice the former queen is well? What holier than for royalties repair, for present comfort, and for future good to bless the bed of majesty again with a sweet fellow to it? There is none worthy respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods would have fulfilled their secret purposes, For has not the divine Apollo said, Is not the tenor of his oracle, That King Leonti shall not have an heir till his lost child be found?

Which that it shall, is all as monstrous to our human reason As my antigonus to break his grave and come again to me, Who on my life did perish with the infant. Tis your counsel, my lord, should to the heavens be contrary, oppose against their wills. To Leontes. care not for issue. The crown will find an heir. Great Alexander left his to the worthiest, so his successor was like to be the best. Good Paulina, who hast the memory of Hermione,

I know, in honour, O, that ever I had squared me to thy counsel, then even now I might have looked upon my queen's full eyes, have taken treasure from her lips, and left them more rich for what they yielded. Thou speakest truth, no more such wives, therefore, no wife. One worse and better used would make her sainted spirit again possess her corpse, and on this stage where we're offenders now appear soul vexed and begin, why to me? Had she such power she had just cause? She had, and would incense me to murder her I married.

I should so. Were I the ghost that walked, I'd bid you mark her eye, and tell me for what dull partent you chose her. Then I'd shriek that even your ears should rift to hear me, and the words that followed should be, remember mine. Stars, stars, and all eyes else dead coals. Fear thou no wife, I'll have no wife, Paulina. Will you swear never to marry but by my free leave? Never, Paulina, so be blessed my spirit. Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath. You tempt him very much. Unless another, as like Hermione, as is her picture, affront his eye. Good, madame.

I have done. Yet, if my lord will marry, if you will, sir, no remedy but you will, give me the office to choose you a queen. She shall not be so young as was your first. but she shall be such as walked your first queen's ghost it should take joy to see her in your arms my true paulina we shall not marry till thou biddest us that shall be when your first queens again in breath never till then enter a gentleman one that gives out himself prince florazel son of pelixenies with his princess she the fairest i have yet beheld desires access to your high presence. What with him, he comes not like to his father's greatness, his approach so out of circumstance and sudden tells us tis not a visitation framed, but forced by need and accident.

What train? But few, and those but mean. His princess, say you, with him? I, the most peerless piece of earth, I think, that ere the sun shone bright on. O Hermione, as every present time doth boast itself above a better gone, So must thy grave give way to what's seen now. Sir, you yourself have said and writ so, But your writing now is colder than that theme. She had not been nor was not to be equaled. Thus your verse flowed with her beauty once,

Tis shrewdly ebbed to say you have seen a better. Pardon, madam. The one I have almost forgot. Your pardon. The other, when she has obtained your eye, will have your tongue, too. This is a creature when she begin a sect might quench the zeal of all professors, else make proselytes of who she but bid follow. How? Not women?

Women will love her, that she is a woman more worth than any man. Men, that she is the rarest of all women. Go, Cleomenes, yourself assisted with your honored friends. Bring them to our embracement. Exeunt Cleomenes and others. Still, tis strange, he thus should steal upon us. Had our prince, jewel of children seen this hour, he had paired well with this lord, there was not full a month between their births. Prithee no more, cease. Thou knowest he dies to me again when talked of.

sure, when I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches will bring me to consider that which may unfurnish me of reason. They are come. Re-enter Cleomenes, and others, with Floresel and Perdita. Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince, for she did print your royal father off,

conceiving you. Were I but twenty-one, your father's image is so hit in you, his very heir, that I should call you brother as I did him, and speak of something wildly by us performed before, most dearly welcome. And your fair princess, goddess? Oh, alas, I lost a couple that twixt heaven and earth might thus have stood begetting

wonder as you, gracious couple do. And then I lost all mine own folly, the society amity too, of your brave father, whom, though bearing misery, I desire my life once more to look on him. By his command have I here touched Cecilia, and from him give you all greetings that a king, at friend, can send his brother. And, but infirmity which waits upon worn times, hath something seized his wished ability. He had himself the lands and waters,

twixt your throne and his measured to look upon you, whom he loves. He bade me say so. more than all the sceptres and those that bear them living. Oh, my brother, good gentlemen, the wrongs I have done thee stir afresh within me, and these thy offices so rarely kind are as interpreters of my behind-hand slackness. Welcome hither, as is the spring to the earth.

And hath he too exposed this paragon to the fearful usage, at least ungentle of the dreadful Neptune, to greet a man not worth her pains, much less the adventure of her person? Good, my lord, she came from Libya, where the warlike smallest that noble-honoured lord is feared and loved. Most royal, sir, from thence, from him whose daughter his tears proclaimed his parting with her,

thence, a prosperous south wind friendly we have crossed, to execute the charge my father gave me for visiting, your highness. My best train I have from your Sicilian shores dismissed, who for Bohemia bend to signify not only my success in Libya, sir, but my arrival and my wife's in safety here where we are. The blessed gods purge all infection from our air whilst you do climb it here. You have a holy father, a graceful gentleman, against whose person so sacred as it is I have done thin, for which the heavens taking angry note have left me issueless, and your father's blessed, as he from heaven merits it,

with you worthy his goodness. What might I have been, might I a son and daughter, now have looked on such goodly things as you? Enter a Lord. Most noble, sir, that which I shall report will bear no credit were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great, sir, Bohemia greets you from himself. by me, desires you to attach his son, who has his dignity and duty both cast off, fled

from his father, from his hopes, and with a shepherd's daughter. Where's Bohemia? Speak. Here in your city, I now came from him. I speak amazedly, and it becomes my marvel and my message. To your court whilst he was hastening, in the chase it seems of this fair couple, meets he on the way the father of this seeming lady and her brother, having both their country acquitted with this young prince.

Camillo has betrayed me, whose honor and whose honesty till now endured all weathers. Late so to his charge, he's with the king, your father. Who, Camillo? Camillo, sir, I spake with him, who now has these poor men in question. Never saw I wretches so quake. They kneel, they kiss the earth, forswear themselves as often as they speak. Bohemia stops his ears and threatens them with diverse deaths in death. Oh, my poor father, the heavens.

set spies upon us will not have our contract celebrated. You are married? We are not, sir, nor are we like to be. The stars I see will kiss the valleys first, the odds for high and lows alike. My lord, is this the daughter of a king? She is, when once she is my wife. That once I see by your good father's speed will come on very slowly. I am sorry, most sorry, you have broken from his liking, where you were tied in duty,

and as sorry your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty that you might well enjoy her dear look up though fortune visible an enemy should chase us with my father power no jot hath she to change our loves beseech you sir remember since you owed no more to time than i do now with thought of such affections step forth mine advocate at your request my father will grant precious things as trifles Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mistress, which he counts but a trifle. Sir, my liege, your eye hath too much you, thint. Not a month for your queen died. She was more worth such gazes than what you look on now. I thought of her, even in these looks I made. To Floresal.

But your petition is yet unanswered. I will to your father, your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, I am friend to them and you, upon which errand I now go toward him, therefore follow me and mark what way I make. Come, good my lord. Exaunt. Act five, scene two, before Leontes Palace. Enter Artulicus and a gentleman. But seek you, sir.

Were you present at this relation? I was by at the opening of the faddle. Heard the old shepherd delivered the manner how he found it. Whereupon, after a little amazardness, we were all commanded. out of the chamber. Only this methought I heard the shepherd say he found the child. Oud must gladly know the issue of it. I make a broken delivery of the business, but the changes I perceived in the King and Camilla were very notes of admiration. They seemed almost with staring on one another to tear the cases

of their eyes. There was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture. They looked as they had heard of a world ransomed. All one destroyed. A notable passion of wonder appeared in them, but the wisest beholder that knew no more but seeing could not say if the importance were joy or sorrow. But in the extremity of the one it must needs be. Enter another gentleman. Here comes a gentleman that happily knows more. The news, Rohera. Nothing but bonfires.

The oracle is fulfilled. The king's daughter is found. Such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it. Enter a third gentleman. Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward. He can deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? This news which is called true is so like an old tale that the verity of it is in strong, suspicion, has the king found his heir?

Most true, if ever truth, were pregnant by circumstance. That which you hear, you'll swear you see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle of Queen Hermione's, her jewel about the neck of it, the letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know to be his character, the majesty of the creature in resemblance of the mother, the affection of nobleness, which nature shows above her breeding, and many other evidences proclaim her with all certainty to be the king's daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings?

No. Then you have lost a sight which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy crown another, so and in such manner that it seems sorrow wept to take leave of them for their joy waited in tears. There was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands, with countenances of such distraction that they were to be known by garment, not by favor. Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, cries, oh, thy mother, thy mother,

then asks Bohemia forgiveness, then embraces his son-in-law, then again worries he his daughter with clipping her. Now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten conduit of many king's reigns, I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to do it. What pray you became of antigonus that carried hence the child? Like an old tale still, which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear open. He was torn to pieces with a bear. This avouches the shepherd's son, who has not only his innocence, which seems much, to justify him,

but a handkerchief and rings of his that Polina knows. What became of his bark and his followers? Wrecked the same instant of their master's death and in the view of the shepherd, so that all the instruments which aided to expose the child were even then lost when it was found. But oh, the noble combat that Twix Joy and Sara was fought in Polina. She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband, another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled.

She lifted the princess from the earth, and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin her to her heart that she might no more be in danger of losing. The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes, for by such was it acted. One of the prettiest touches of all in that which angled for mine eyes caught the water, though not the fish, was when, at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner how she came to it bravely confessed and lamented by the king, how attentiveness wounded his daughter, till, from one sign of dollar to another she did with, with an, alas, I would fain say, bleed tears, for I am sure my heart-wept blood. Who was most marble there changed color.

Some swooned, all sorrowed. If all the world could have seen it, the woe had been universal. Are they returned to the court? No, the princess hearing of her mother's statue, which is in the keeping of Polina, a piece many years in doing and now newly performed by that rare Italian master, Giulio Romano, who had he himself eternity and could put, breath into his work, would beguile nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her ape. He so near to Hermione hath done Hermione, that they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of

answer. Fither with all greediness of affection are they gone, and there they intend to sup. I thought she had some great matter there in hand, for she hath privately, twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione visited that removed house. Shall we thither, and with our company, peace the rejoicing? Who would be thence that has the benefit of access? Every wink of an eye, some new grace will be born. Our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let's along.

Exeunt gentlemen. Now, head on up the death of my former life in me, would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his son aboard the prince, told him, I heard them talk of a faddle, and I know not what. But he at that time, over fond of the shepherd's daughter, so he then took her to be,

who began to be much seasick and himself little better. Extremity of weather continuing, this mystery remained undiscovered. but tis all one to me for had i been to find an air of this secret it would not have relished among my other discredits enter shepherd and clown here come those i have done good to against my will and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune come boy i am post to more children but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born you are well met sir you deny to fight with me this other day because I was no gentleman born. See you these clothes? Say you see them not and think me still no gentleman born.

You were best say these robes are not gentleman born. Give me the lie do and try whether I am not now a gentleman born. I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born. Aye, and have been so any time these four hours. And so have I, boy. So you have, but I was a gentleman born before my father, for the king's son took me by the hand and called me brother, and then the two kings called my father brother,

and then the prince my brother and the princess my sister called my father, father, and so we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed. We may leave, son, to shed many more. I, or else to a hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon all the faults I have committed to your worship, and to give me your good report to the prince, my master. Pretty, son, do, for we must be gentle.

Now we are gentlemen. Thou wilt amend thy life? I, and it like your good ones. worship. Give me thy hand. I will swear to the prince, thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia. You may say it, but not swear it. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman, let Boers and Franklin say it, I'll swear it. How if it be false, son. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend, and I'll swear to the prince, thou art a tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunk. But, I know thou art no

tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunk, but I'll swear it, and I would thou wouldst be a tall fellow of thy hands. I will prove so, sir, to my power. I, by any, means prove a tall fellow, if I do not wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark, the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the queen's picture. Come, follow us, we'll be thy good masters. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 3 A chapel in Paulina's house.

enter Leontes, Polyxenes, Florizel, Perdita, Camilo, Paulina, lords and attendants. O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort that I have had of thee. What, sovereign, sir, I did not well, I meant well, all my services you have paid home, but that you have vouchsafed with your crowned brother and these your contracted heirs of your kingdom, my poor house to visit, it is a surplus of your grace which never my life may last to answer. O Paulina, we honor you with trouble, but we came to see the statue of our queen. Your gallery have we passed through, not without much content in many singularities, but we saw not that which my daughter came to look upon, the statue of her mother.

As she lived peerless, so her dead likeness I do well believe, excels whatever yet you looked upon, or hand of man hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it is. Prepare to see the life as lively mocked as ever still sleep mocked death. Behold, and say tis well. Paulina draws a curtain and discovers Hermione, standing like a statue. I like your silence.

It the more shows off your wonder. but yet speak first to you my liege comes it not something near her natural posture chide me dear stone that i may say indeed thou art hermione or rather thou art she in thy not chiding for she was as tender as infancy and grace but yet paulina hermione was not so much wrinkled nothing so aged as this seems Oh, not by much. So much the more our Carver's excellence, which let's go by some sixteen years and makes her as she lived now. As now she might have done

so much to my good comfort as it is now piercing to my soul. Oh, thus she stood, even with such life of majesty, warm life as now it coldly stands, when first I wooed her. I am ashamed. Does not the stone rebuke me

For being more stone than it? How royal peace there's magic in thy majesty Which has my evils conjured to remembrance And from thy admiring daughter took the spirits Standing like stone with thee. And give me leave, And do not say to superstition That I kneel and then implore her blessing.

Lady, dear queen that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours to kiss. Oh, patience! The statue is but newly fixed. The color's not dry. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, which sixteen winters cannot blow away so many summers dry. Scarce any joy did ever so long live. No sorrow but killed itself much sooner. Dear, my brother, let him that was the cause of this have power to take off so much grief from you as he will piece up in himself. Indeed, my lord, if I had thought the sight of my poor image would thus have brought you, for the stone is mine, I'd not have showed it.

Do not draw the curtain. No longer shall you gaze on, lest your fancy may think anon it moves. Let be, let be, would I were dead, but that methinks already, what was he that did make it? See, my lord, would you not deem it breathed? and that those veins did verily bear blood. Masterly done, the very life seems warm upon her lip. The fixture of her eye has motion in it, as we are mocked with art. I'll draw the curtain.

My lord's almost so far transported that he'll think anon it lives. Oh, sweet Paulina, make me to think so twenty years together. No settled senses of the world can match the pleasure of that madness. Let it alone. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirred you. But I could afflict you farther. Do Paulina, for this affliction has a taste as sweet as any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, there is an air comes from her.

What fine chisel could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, for I will kiss her. Could my lord forbear the readiness upon her? lip is wet, you'll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own with oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? No, not these twenty years. So long could I stand by a looker-on. Either forbear, quit presently the chapel, or resolve you for more amazement. If you can behold it, I'll make the statue move indeed, descend and take you by the hand. But then you'll think, which I protest against, I am assisted by wicked powers.

What you can make her do I am content to look on, what to speak I am content to hear, for it is as easy to make her speak as move. It is required you do awake your faith, then all stand still, on. Those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart. Proceed, no foot shall stir. Music, awake her, strike.

Music. Tis time. Descend. Be stone no more. Approach. Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come, I'll fill your grave up. Nay, stir, come away, bequeath to death your numbness,

for from him dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs. Hermione comes down. Start not. Her actions shall be holy as you hear my spell is lawful. Do not shun her until you see her die again, for then you kill her double. Nay, present your hand.

When she was young, you wooed her. Now in age is she become the suitor. Oh, she's warm. If this be magic, let it be an art lawful as eating. She embraces him. She hangs about his neck. If she pertain to life, let her speak, too. Aye, and make manifest where she has lived, or how stolen from the dead.

That she is living, were it but told you should be hooted at like an old tale. But it appears she lives, though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. Please you to interpose, fair madam, kneel and pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady, our purdata is found. You gods, look down, and from your sacred vials pour your graces upon my daughter's head. Tell me mine own, where hast thou been preserved, where lived, how found thy father's court? For thou shalt hear that I, knowing by Paulina that the oracle,

gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved myself to see the issue. There's time enough for that, lest they desire upon this push to trouble your joys with like relation. Go together, you precious winners all, your exultation partake to everyone. I, an old turtle, will wing me to some withered bow, and there my mate that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost. O peace, Paulina, thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, As I, by thine, a wife. This is a match and made between us by vows.

Thou hast found mine, but how is to be questioned, For I saw her as I thought dead, And have in vain said many a prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far, for him I partly know his mind. to find thee an honorable husband. Come, Camillo, and take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty is richly noted and here justified by us a pair of kings.

Let's from this place, what? Look upon my brother, both your pardons, that ere I put between your holy looks my ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law, and son, unto the king, who, heaven's directing, is troth plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, lead us from hence, where we may leisurely each one demand an answer to his part performed in this wide gap of time since first we were dissevered. Hastily lead away. Exeunt.

End of Act 5. End of the Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare.