| 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, | 5 |
| 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. | 10 |
| Mariner | Make your best haste, and go not |
| 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: | 15 |
| 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, | 20 |
| 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; | 25 |
| 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 | 30 |
| 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, | 35 |
| 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 | 40 |
| 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, | 45 |
| 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 | 50 |
| 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 | 55 |
| 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 | 60 |
| The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! |
| 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 | 65 |
| 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 | 70 |
| 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 | 75 |
| 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 | 80 |
| 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 | 85 |
| 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 | 90 |
| 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! | 95 |
| 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 | 100 |
| 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 | 105 |
| 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 | 110 |
| 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 footing. | 115 |
| 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; | 120 |
| 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 |
| are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold! | 125 |
| 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. | 130 |
| 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 |
| are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury |
| it. | 135 |
| 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. | 140 |
| [Exeunt] |
The Winter's Tale: Plot Summary