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Text File | 1989-11-03 | 10.1 KB | 199 lines

$Unique_ID{SSP01758} $Title{The Winter's Tale: Act III, Scene III} $Author{Shakespeare, William} $Subject{} $Log{Dramatis Personae*01750.txt} Portions copyright (c) CMC ReSearch, Inc., 1989 The Complete Works of William Shakespeare THE WINTER'S TALE ACT III ................................................................................ SCENE III: Bohemia. A desert country near the sea. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . {Enter ANTIGONUS with a Child, and a Mariner.} ANTIGONUS: Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon The deserts of Bohemia? Mariner: Ay, my lord: and fear We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry And frown upon 's. ANTIGONUS: Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; Look to thy bark: I'll not be long before I call upon thee. Mariner: Make your best haste, and go not 10 Too far i' the land: 'tis like to be loud weather; Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon't. ANTIGONUS: Go thou away: I'll follow instantly. Mariner: I am glad at heart To be so rid o' the business. [Exit.] ANTIGONUS: Come, poor babe: I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o' the dead May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another; 20 I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me, And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon Did this break-from her: 'Good Antigonus, Since fate, against thy better disposition, Hath made thy person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, 30 Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weep and leave it crying; and, for the babe Is counted lost for ever, Perdita, I prithee, call't. For this ungentle business Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more.' And so, with shrieks She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself and thought This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys: Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, 40 I will be squared by this. I do believe Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that Apollo would, this being indeed the issue Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, Either for life or death, upon the earth Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! 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 art thus exposed 50 To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell! The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have A lullaby too rough: I never saw The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamor! Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear.] {Enter a Shepherd.} Shepherd: I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the 60 rest; for 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 any where I have them, 'tis by the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will what have we here! Mercy on 's, a barne a very pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder? A 70 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! {Enter Clown.} Clown: Hilloa, loa! Shepherd: What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk 80 on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man? Clown: I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky: betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point. Shepherd: Why, boy, how is it? Clown: I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not the point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! 90 sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land-service, to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragoned it: but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared 100 and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather. Shepherd: Name of mercy, when was this, boy? Clown: Now, now: I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman: he's at it now. Shepherd: Would I had been by, to have helped the old man! Clown: I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her: there your charity would have lacked 110 footing. Shepherd: Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things dying, I with things newborn. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's child! look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let's see: it was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changeling: open't. What's within, boy? Clown: You're a made old man: if the sins of your youth 120 are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold! Shepherd: This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with't, keep it close: home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go: come, good boy, the next way home. Clown: Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much he hath eaten: they are never curst but when they 130 are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it. Shepherd: That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the sight of him. Clown: Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' the ground. Shepherd: 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't. [Exeunt.]