Winter's Tale — Act 1, Scene 2 · Shakespeare for Bharat

POLIXENES

Nine changes of the watery star hath beenThe shepherd's note since we have left our throneWithout a burthen: time as long againWould be find up, my brother, with our thanks;And yet we should, for perpetuity,Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher,Yet standing in rich place, I multiplyWith one 'We thank you' many thousands moeThat go before it.

LEONTES

Stay your thanks a while;And pay them when you part.

POLIXENES

Sir, that's to-morrow.I am question'd by my fears, of what may chanceOr breed upon our absence; that may blowNo sneaping winds at home, to make us say'This is put forth too truly:' besides, I have stay'dTo tire your royalty.

LEONTES

We are tougher, brother,Than you can put us to't.

POLIXENES

No longer stay.

LEONTES

One seven-night longer.

POLIXENES

Very sooth, to-morrow.

LEONTES

We'll part the time between's then; and in thatI'll no gainsaying.

POLIXENES

Press me not, beseech you, so.There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world,So soon as yours could win me: so it should now,Were there necessity in your request, although'Twere needful I denied it. My affairsDo even drag me homeward: which to hinderWere in your love a whip to me; my stayTo you a charge and trouble: to save both,Farewell, our brother.

LEONTES

Tongue-tied, our queen?speak you.

HERMIONE

I had thought, sir, to have held my peace untilYou have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sureAll in Bohemia's well; this satisfactionThe by-gone day proclaim'd: say this to him,He's beat from his best ward.

LEONTES

Well said, Hermione.

HERMIONE

To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong:But let him say so then, and let him go;But let him swear so, and he shall not stay,We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.Yet of your royal presence I'll adventureThe borrow of a week. When at BohemiaYou take my lord, I'll give him my commissionTo let him there a month behind the gestPrefix'd for's parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,I love thee not a jar o' the clock behindWhat lady-she her lord. You'll stay?

POLIXENES

No, madam.

HERMIONE

Nay, but you will?

POLIXENES

I may not, verily.

HERMIONE

Verily!You put me off with limber vows; but I,Though you would seek to unsphere thestars with oaths,Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily,You shall not go: a lady's 'Verily' 'sAs 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 feesWhen you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread 'Verily,'One of them you shall be.

POLIXENES

Your guest, then, madam:To be your prisoner should import offending;Which is for me less easy to commitThan you to punish.

HERMIONE

Not your gaoler, then,But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question youOf my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys:You were pretty lordings then?

POLIXENES

We were, fair queen,Two lads that thought there was no more behindBut such a day to-morrow as to-day,And to be boy eternal.

HERMIONE

Was not my lordThe verier wag o' the two?

POLIXENES

We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun,And bleat the one at the other: what we changedWas innocence for innocence; we knew notThe doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'dThat any did. Had we pursued that life,And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'dWith stronger blood, we should have answer'd heavenBoldly 'not guilty;' the imposition clear'dHereditary ours.

HERMIONE

By this we gatherYou have tripp'd since.

POLIXENES

O my most sacred lady!Temptations have since then been born to's; forIn those unfledged days was my wife a girl;Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyesOf my young play-fellow.

HERMIONE

Grace to boot!Of this make no conclusion, lest you sayYour queen and I are devils: yet go on;The offences we have made you do we'll answer,If you first sinn'd with us and that with usYou did continue fault and that you slipp'd notWith any but with us.

LEONTES

Is he won yet?

HERMIONE

He'll stay my lord.

LEONTES

At my request he would not.Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokestTo better purpose.

HERMIONE

Never?

LEONTES

Never, but once.

HERMIONE

What! have I twice said well? when was't before?I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make'sAs fat as tame things: one good deed dying tonguelessSlaughters a thousand waiting upon that.Our praises are our wages: you may ride'sWith one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ereWith 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: O, would her name were Grace!But once before I spoke to the purpose: when?Nay, let me have't; I long.

LEONTES

Why, that was whenThree crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,Ere I could make thee open thy white handAnd clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter'I am yours for ever.'

HERMIONE

'Tis grace indeed.Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice:The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;The other for some while a friend.

LEONTES

[Aside] Too hot, too hot!To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances;But not for joy; not joy. This entertainmentMay a free face put on, derive a libertyFrom 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 practised smiles,As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as 'twereThe mort o' the deer; O, that is entertainmentMy bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius,Art thou my boy?

MAMILLIUS

Ay, my good lord.

LEONTES

I' fecks!Why, that's my bawcock. What, hastsmutch'd thy nose?They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain,We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain:And yet the steer, the heifer and the calfAre all call'd neat.--Still virginallingUpon his palm!--How now, you wanton calf!Art thou my calf?

MAMILLIUS

Yes, if you will, my lord.

LEONTES

Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have,To be full like me: yet they say we areAlmost as like as eggs; women say so,That will say anything but were they falseAs o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, falseAs dice are to be wish'd by one that fixesNo bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it trueTo say this boy were like me. Come, sir page,Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain!Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?--may't be?--Affection! thy intention stabs the centre:Thou dost make possible things not so held,Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?--With what's unreal thou coactive art,And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credentThou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost,And that beyond commission, and I find it,And that to the infection of my brainsAnd hardening of my brows.

POLIXENES

What means Sicilia?

HERMIONE

He something seems unsettled.

POLIXENES

How, my lord!What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?

HERMIONE

You look as if you held a brow of much distractionAre you moved, my lord?

LEONTES

No, in good earnest.How sometimes nature will betray its folly,Its tenderness, and make itself a pastimeTo harder bosoms! Looking on the linesOf my boy's face, methoughts I did recoilTwenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd,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, methought, I then was to this kernel,This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,Will you take eggs for money?

MAMILLIUS

No, my lord, I'll fight.

LEONTES

You will! why, happy man be's dole! My brother,Are you so fond of your young prince as weDo seem to be of ours?

POLIXENES

If at home, sir,He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter,Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy,My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:He makes a July's day short as December,And with his varying childness cures in meThoughts that would thick my blood.

LEONTES

So stands this squireOfficed with me: we two will walk, my lord,And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,How thou lovest us, show in our brother's welcome;Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap:Next to thyself and my young rover, he'sApparent to my heart.

HERMIONE

If you would seek us,We are yours i' the garden: shall's attend you there?

LEONTES

To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found,Be you beneath the sky.

LEONTES

I am angling now,Though you perceive me not how I give line.Go to, go to!How she holds up the neb, the bill to him!And arms her with the boldness of a wifeTo her allowing husband!

LEONTES

Gone already!Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head andears a fork'd one!Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and IPlay too, but so disgraced a part, whose issueWill hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamourWill 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 the arm,That little thinks she has been sluiced in's absenceAnd his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, bySir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in'tWhiles other men have gates and those gates open'd,As mine, against their will. Should all despairThat have revolted wives, the tenth of mankindWould hang themselves. Physic for't there is none;It is a bawdy planet, that will strikeWhere 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,From east, west, north and south: be it concluded,No barricado for a belly; know't;It will let in and out the enemyWith bag and baggage: many thousand on'sHave the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy!

MAMILLIUS

I am like you, they say.

LEONTES

Why that's some comfort. What, Camillo there?

CAMILLO

Ay, my good lord.

LEONTES

Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.

LEONTES

Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.

CAMILLO

You had much ado to make his anchor hold:When you cast out, it still came home.

LEONTES

Didst note it?

CAMILLO

He would not stay at your petitions: madeHis business more material.

LEONTES

Didst perceive it?

LEONTES

They're here with me already, whispering, rounding'Sicilia is a so-forth:' 'tis far gone,When I shall gust it last. How came't, Camillo,That he did stay?

CAMILLO

At the good queen's entreaty.

LEONTES

At the queen's be't: 'good' should be pertinentBut, so it is, it is not. Was this takenBy any understanding pate but thine?For thy conceit is soaking, will draw inMore than the common blocks: not noted, is't,But of the finer natures? by some severalsOf head-piece extraordinary? lower messesPerchance are to this business purblind? say.

CAMILLO

Business, my lord! I think most understandBohemia stays here longer.

LEONTES

Ha!

CAMILLO

Stays here longer.

LEONTES

Ay, but why?

CAMILLO

To satisfy your highness and the entreatiesOf our most gracious mistress.

LEONTES

Satisfy!The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy!Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,With all the nearest things to my heart, as wellMy chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thouHast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departedThy penitent reform'd: but we have beenDeceived in thy integrity, deceivedIn that which seems so.

CAMILLO

Be it forbid, my lord!

LEONTES

To bide upon't, thou art not honest, or,If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward,Which hoxes honesty behind, restrainingFrom course required; or else thou must be countedA servant grafted in my serious trustAnd therein negligent; or else a foolThat seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,And takest it all for jest.

CAMILLO

My gracious lord,I may be negligent, foolish and fearful;In every one of these no man is free,But that his negligence, his folly, fear,Among the infinite doings of the world,Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord,If ever I were wilful-negligent,It was my folly; if industriouslyI play'd the fool, it was my negligence,Not weighing well the end; if ever fearfulTo do a thing, where I the issue doubted,Where of the execution did cry outAgainst the non-performance, 'twas a fearWhich oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,Are such allow'd infirmities that honestyIs never free of. But, beseech your grace,Be plainer with me; let me know my trespassBy its own visage: if I then deny it,'Tis none of mine.

LEONTES

Ha' not you seen, Camillo,--But that's past doubt, you have, or your eye-glassIs thicker than a cuckold's horn,--or heard,--For to a vision so apparent rumourCannot be mute,--or thought,--for cogitationResides 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 sayMy wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a nameAs rank as any flax-wench that puts toBefore her troth-plight: say't and justify't.

CAMILLO

I would not be a stander-by to hearMy sovereign mistress clouded so, withoutMy present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart,You never spoke what did become you lessThan this; which to reiterate were sinAs deep as that, though true.

LEONTES

Is whispering nothing?Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?Kissing with inside lip? stopping the careerOf laughing with a sigh?--a note infallibleOf breaking honesty--horsing foot on foot?Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyesBlind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only,That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing?Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing;The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,If this be nothing.

CAMILLO

Good my lord, be curedOf this diseased opinion, and betimes;For 'tis most dangerous.

LEONTES

Say it be, 'tis true.

CAMILLO

No, no, my lord.

LEONTES

It is; you lie, you lie:I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee,Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave,Or else a hovering temporizer, thatCanst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,Inclining to them both: were my wife's liverInfected as her life, she would not liveThe running of one glass.

CAMILLO

Who does infect her?

LEONTES

Why, he that wears her like a medal, hangingAbout his neck, Bohemia: who, if IHad servants true about me, that bare eyesTo see alike mine honour as their profits,Their own particular thrifts, they would do thatWhich should undo more doing: ay, and thou,His cupbearer,--whom I from meaner formHave benched and reared to worship, who mayst seePlainly 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.

CAMILLO

Sir, my lord,I could do this, and that with no rash potion,But with a lingering dram that should not workMaliciously like poison: but I cannotBelieve this crack to be in my dread mistress,So sovereignly being honourable.I have loved thee,--

LEONTES

Make that thy question, and go rot!Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,To appoint myself in this vexation, sullyThe purity and whiteness of my sheets,Which to preserve is sleep, which being spottedIs goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps,Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son,Who I do think is mine and love as mine,Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this?Could man so blench?

CAMILLO

I must believe you, sir:I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't;Provided that, when he's removed, your highnessWill take again your queen as yours at first,Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealingThe injury of tongues in courts and kingdomsKnown and allied to yours.

LEONTES

Thou dost advise meEven so as I mine own course have set down:I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.

CAMILLO

My lord,Go then; and with a countenance as clearAs friendship wears at feasts, keep with BohemiaAnd with your queen. I am his cupbearer:If from me he have wholesome beverage,Account me not your servant.

LEONTES

This is all:Do't and thou hast the one half of my heart;Do't not, thou split'st thine own.

CAMILLO

I'll do't, my lord.

LEONTES

I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me.

CAMILLO

O miserable lady! But, for me,What case stand I in? I must be the poisonerOf good Polixenes; and my ground to do'tIs the obedience to a master, oneWho in rebellion with himself will haveAll that are his so too. To do this deed,Promotion follows. If I could find exampleOf thousands that had struck anointed kingsAnd flourish'd after, I'ld not do't; but sinceNor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one,Let villany itself forswear't. I mustForsake the court: to do't, or no, is certainTo me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now!Here comes Bohemia.

POLIXENES

This is strange: methinksMy favour here begins to warp. Not speak?Good day, Camillo.

CAMILLO

Hail, most royal sir!

POLIXENES

What is the news i' the court?

CAMILLO

None rare, my lord.

POLIXENES

The king hath on him such a countenanceAs he had lost some province and a regionLoved as he loves himself: even now I met himWith customary compliment; when he,Wafting his eyes to the contrary and fallingA lip of much contempt, speeds from me andSo leaves me to consider what is breedingThat changeth thus his manners.

CAMILLO

I dare not know, my lord.

POLIXENES

How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not?Be intelligent to me: 'tis thereabouts;For, to yourself, what you do know, you must.And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,Your changed complexions are to me a mirrorWhich shows me mine changed too; for I must beA party in this alteration, findingMyself thus alter'd with 't.

CAMILLO

There is a sicknessWhich puts some of us in distemper, butI cannot name the disease; and it is caughtOf you that yet are well.

POLIXENES

How! caught of me!Make me not sighted like the basilisk:I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the betterBy my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,--As you are certainly a gentleman, theretoClerk-like experienced, which no less adornsOur gentry than our parents' noble names,In whose success we are gentle,--I beseech you,If you know aught which does behove my knowledgeThereof to be inform'd, imprison't notIn ignorant concealment.

CAMILLO

I may not answer.

POLIXENES

A sickness caught of me, and yet I well!I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo,I conjure thee, by all the parts of manWhich honour does acknowledge, whereof the leastIs not this suit of mine, that thou declareWhat incidency thou dost guess of harmIs creeping toward me; how far off, how near;Which way to be prevented, if to be;If not, how best to bear it.

CAMILLO

Sir, I will tell you;Since I am charged in honour and by himThat I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel,Which must be even as swiftly follow'd asI mean to utter it, or both yourself and meCry lost, and so good night!

POLIXENES

On, good Camillo.

CAMILLO

I am appointed him to murder you.

POLIXENES

By whom, Camillo?

CAMILLO

By the king.

POLIXENES

For what?

CAMILLO

He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,As he had seen't or been an instrumentTo vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queenForbiddenly.

POLIXENES

O, then my best blood turnTo an infected jelly and my nameBe yoked with his that did betray the Best!Turn then my freshest reputation toA savour that may strike the dullest nostrilWhere I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd,Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infectionThat e'er was heard or read!

CAMILLO

Swear his thought overBy each particular star in heaven andBy all their influences, you may as wellForbid the sea for to obey the moonAs or by oath remove or counsel shakeThe fabric of his folly, whose foundationIs piled upon his faith and will continueThe standing of his body.

POLIXENES

How should this grow?

CAMILLO

I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer toAvoid what's grown than question how 'tis born.If therefore you dare trust my honesty,That lies enclosed in this trunk which youShall bear along impawn'd, away to-night!Your followers I will whisper to the business,And will by twos and threes at several posternsClear them o' the city. For myself, I'll putMy fortunes to your service, which are hereBy this discovery lost. Be not uncertain;For, by the honour of my parents, IHave utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove,I dare not stand by; nor shall you be saferThan one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereonHis execution sworn.

POLIXENES

I do believe thee:I saw his heart in 's face. Give me thy hand:Be pilot to me and thy places shallStill neighbour mine. My ships are ready andMy people did expect my hence departureTwo days ago. This jealousyIs 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 conceiveHe is dishonour'd by a man which everProfess'd to him, why, his revenges mustIn that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me:Good expedition be my friend, and comfortThe gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothingOf his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo;I will respect thee as a father ifThou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid.

CAMILLO

It is in mine authority to commandThe keys of all the posterns: please your highnessTo take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away.