Sicilia cannot show himself overkind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods, and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, hath 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!
To tell he longs to see his son were strong. But let him say so then, and let him go. But let him swear so and he shall not stay; we'll thwack him hence with distaffs. [To Polixenes] Yet of your royal presence I'll adventure the borrow of a week. When at Bohemia you take my lord, I'll give him my commission to let him there a month behind the gest prefixed for 's parting. - Yet, good deed, Leontes, I love thee not a jar o'th'clock behind what lady she her lord. - You'll stay?
(aside) Too hot, too hot! To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis on me. My heart dances, but not for joy, not joy. This entertainment may a free face put on, derive a liberty from heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, and well become the agent. 'T may, I grant. But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, as now they are, and making practiced smiles as in a looking glass, and then to sigh, as 'twere the mort o'th'deer; oh, that is entertainment my bosom likes not, nor my brows. - Mamillius, art thou my boy?
Gone already! Inch thick, knee-deep, o'er 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 my knell. Go play, boy, play. There have been, or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now; and many a man there is, even at this present, now while I speak this, holds his wife by th'arm, that little thinks she has been sluiced in 's absence and his pond fished by his next neighbor, by Sir Smile, his neighbor. Nay, there's comfort in't whiles 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 fo't there's none. It is a bawdy planet, that will strike where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it, from east, west, north, and south. Be it ocncluded, no barricade for a belly. Know't, it will let in and out the enemy with bag and baggage. Many thousand on's have the disease and feel't not. - How now, boy?
Take the boy to you. He so troubles me, 'tis past enduring.
How blest am I in my just censure, in my true opinion! Alack, for elsser knowledge! How accurst in being so blest! 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 th'abhorred ingredient to his eye, make known how he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, with violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen the spider. Camillo was his help in this, his pander. There is a plot against my life, my crown. All's true that is mistrusted. That false villain whom I employed was pre-employed by him. He has discovered my design, and I remain a pinched thing, yea, a very trick for them to play at will. How came the posterns so easily open?
If it prove she's otherwise, I'll keep my stables wehre I lodge my wife. I'll go in couples with her; than when I feel and see her no farther trust her. For every inch of woman in the world, ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, if she be.
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.
"Hermione is chaste, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten, and the King shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found."
What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels, racks, fires? What flaying, boiling in leads or oils? What old or new torture must I receive, whose every word deserves to taste fo they most worst? Thy tyranny, together working with thy jealousies - fances 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 betrayed'st Polixenes, 'twas nothing; that did but show thee, for a fool, inconstant and damnable ingrateful. Nor was't much thou wouldst have poisoned good Camillo's honor, to have him kill a king - poor trespasses, more monstrous standing by; whereof I reckon the casting forth to crows thy baby daughter to be or none little, though a devil would have shed water out of fire ere don't. Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death of the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts, thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart that could conceive a gross and foolish sire blemished his gracious damn. This is not, no, laid to thy answer. But the last - Oh, lords, whne I have said, cry woe! The Queen, the Queen, the sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead, and vengeance for't not dropped down yet.
I say she's dead. I'll swear't. If word nor oath prevail not, go and see. If you can bring tincture or luster in her lip, her eye, heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you as I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier than all thy woes can stir. Therefore betake thee to nothing but despair. A thousand knees ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, upon a barren mountain, and still winter in storm perpetual, could not move the gods to look that way thou wert.
I am sorry for't. 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 th'noble heart. What's gone and what's past help should be past grief. - Do not receive affliction at my petition. I beseech you, rather let me be 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.
I would there were no age between ten and there and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest, and there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting - Hark you now, would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master. If anywhere I have them, 'tis by the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! (Seeing a child). What have we here? Mercy on 's, a bairn, a very pretty bairn! A boy or a child, I wonder? A pretty one, a very pretty one. Sure some scape. Though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work. They were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity. Yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hallooed but even now. - Whoa, ho hoa!
"Chased by a bear" Stage Direction 3.3
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.
Of that fatal country, Sicilia, prithee, speak no more, whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled King, my brother, whose loss of his most precious queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented.
If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name put in the book of virtue!
Their transformations were never for a piece of beauty rarer, nor in a way so chaste, since my desires run not before mine honor, nor my lusts burn hotter than my faith.
Sir, the year growing ancient, not yet on summer's death nor on the birth of trembling winter, the fairest flow'rs o'th'season are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, which some call nature's bastards. Of that kind our rustic garden's barren, and I care not to get slips of them.
O Proserpia, for the flow'rs ow that, frightened, thou let'st fall from Dis's wagon! Daffodils, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty...
(to Camillo) This is the prettiest lowborn ass that ever ran on the greensward. Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than herself, too noble for this place.
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 bawdry, which is strange, with such delicate burdens of dildos and fadings, "Jump her and thump her"; and where some stretchmouthed 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, slights him, with "Whoop, do me no harm, good man."
Pray now, buy some. I love a ballad in print alife, for then we are sure they are true.
Even here undone! I was not much afeard; for once or twice I was about to speak and tell him plainly the selfsame sun that shines upon his court hides not his visage from our cottage, but looks on alike. Will't please you, sir, begone?
There is none worthy, respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods will have fulfilled their secret purposes; for has not the divine Apollo said, Is't not the tenor of his oracle, that King Leontes 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.
Had our prince, jewel of children, seen this hour, he had paired well with this lord. There was not a full a month between their births.
So sacred as it is, I have done sin, for which the heavens, taking angry note...
I make a broken delivery of the business, but the changes I perceived in the King and Camillo were very notes of admiration. They seemed almost, with staring on one another, toear 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, or one destroyed. A notable passion of wonder appeared in them, but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say if th'importance were joy or sorrow; but in the extremity of the one it must needs be. Here comes a gentleman that haply knows more. - The news, Rogero?
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.
I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius. It is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note.
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.
If the King had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one.
Verily? You put me off with limber vows; but I, though you would seek t'unsphere the stars with oaths, should yet say, "Sir, no going." Verily, you shall not go. A lady's "verily" is as potent as a lord's. Will 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 tomorrow as today, and to be boy eternal.
Was not my lord the verier way o'th'two?
We were as twinned lambs that did frisk I'th'sun and bleat the one at th'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 been higher reared with stronger blood, we should have answered heaven bolldy "Not guilty," the imposition cleared hereditary ours.
By this we gather you have tripped since.
Oh, my most sacred lady, temptations have since then been born to 's, 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. Th'offenses we 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.
You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if I were a baby still - I love you better.
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.
I learned it out of women's faces. Pray now, what color are your eyebrows? .... Nay, that's a mock. I have seen a lady's nose that has been blue, but not her eyebrows.
What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now I am for you again. Pray you, sit by us and tell 's a tale.
A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.
Let's have that, good sir. Come on, sit down. Coem on, and do your best to fright me with your sprites. You're powerful at it.
Dwelt by a churchyard. I will tell it softly; yond crickets shall not hear it.
Come on, then, and give't me in mine ear.
It is for you we speak, not for ourselves. You are abused, and by some putter-on that will be damned for't. Would I knew the villain; I would land-damn him. Be she honor-flawed, I have three daughters - the eldest is eleven, the second and third, nine and some five - If this prove true, they'll pay for 't. By mine honor, I'll geld 'em all! Fourteen they shlal not see to bring false generations. They are co-heirs, and I had rather glib myself than they should not produce fair issue.
For I have heard it said there is an art which in their piedness 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 gentler scion 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.
Then make you garden rich in gillyvors, and do not call them bastards.
I'll not put the dibble in earth to set one slip of them, no more than, were 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, mints, savory, marjoram, the marigold, that goes to bed wi'th' 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.
Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a userer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden, and how she longed to eat adders' heads and toads carbonadoed.
Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress Taleporter, and five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad?
Here's another ballad, of a fish that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this allad against the hard hearts of maids. It was thought she was a owman and was turned into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her. The ballad is very pitiful and as true.
What hast here? Ballads?
Is it true, think you?
Very true, and but a month old.
Bless me from marrying a userer!
Pray you now, buy it.
Come on, lay it by, and let's first see more ballads. We'll buy the other things anon.
Is it true too, think you?
Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack will hold.
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. 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 the strong suspicion. Has the king found his heir?
Would they else be content to die?
Yes, if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live.