The Winter’s Tale

Take the boy. He is such a pest I can’t take it anymore.

Come with me, my gracious lord. Shall I play with you?

No, I don’t want anything to do with you.

Why, my sweet lord?

You’ll kiss me too hard and talk baby talk to me. (to Second Lady) I love you better.

Why is that, my lord?

Not because your eyebrows are blacker, though they say that black eyebrows suit some women best, as long as there isn’t too much hair and they are shaped like a semicircle, or drawn like a half-moon.

Who taught you that?

I learned it from looking at women’s faces. Tell me, what color are your eyebrows?

Blue, my lord.

No, you’re joking. I’ve seen a lady’s nose that was blue, but not her eyebrows.

Listen: your mother the queen is getting rounder by the day. We’ll be serving a fine new prince one day soon, and then you’ll want to play with us, if we’ll let you.

She has become quite big lately. May it come quickly for her!

What are you talking about now? Come, sir, now I’m ready for you again. Sit next to me, and tell me a story.

Should it be happy or serious?

As happy as you’d like.

A sad story is best for the winter. I have one about fairies and goblins.

Let’s hear it, good sir. Come on, sit down, and try to frighten me with your fairies. You’re good at it.

There was a man—

No, sit down, and then tell me.

—who lived by a churchyard. I’ll tell it quietly, so those other ladies won’t hear it.

Come on then, and tell me in my ear.

Did his men meet him there? Camillo was with him?

I ran across them behind the pine grove. I’ve never seen men move so quickly along. I saw them go all the way to their ships.

I’m so blessed to have such accurate judgment, and such a correct opinion! Alas, if only I knew less! I’m cursed to be so blessed! There may be a spider in your cup, and if you drink without realizing it, you aren’t hurt. But if you see the spider and know you have drunk it, you will wretch and heave violently. I have drunk from the cup, and I know that the spider was in it. Camillo helped him and acted as his pimp. There is a plot to kill me and take my place as king. Everything that I suspected is true. That traitorous villain I employed actually worked for Polixenes. He has discovered my plan, and I’m still tormented, a toy for them to play with. How were the gates so easily opened?

By Camillo’s authority, which he’s often wielded by your command.

I know it too well. Give me the boy. I am glad you didn’t breastfeed him. He may look a bit like me, but he looks too much like you.

What is this, a joke?

Take the boy away. He won’t be near her anymore. Take him away! Let her play with the one she’s pregnant with now, since it is Polixenes’ child.

I’ll say it is not and will swear that you should believe me, whatever you think to the contrary.

My lords, look at her closely. If you are tempted to say, “She is a fine lady,” the wisdom of your hearts will add, “A shame that she isn’t virtuous or honorable.” Praise her for anything but her outward form, which does deserve praise, and immediately you must shrug or mutter to yourself. Those are the expressions that slander uses—no, I’m wrong—that mercy uses, because slander only attacks someone who is virtuous. These shrugs and mutterings after you say, “She’s goodly” interrupt you before you can say, “She’s virtuous.” Listen to the man who has the most reason to be upset about it: she’s an adulteress.

If a villain said so, the worst in the world, saying so would make him even more of a villain. My lord, you are mistaken.

My lady, you have mistaken Polixenes for me. Oh, you creature! I won’t give you the title that goes with your high social status, or I’ll set a precedent allowing rudeness to use the same names for everyone and not distinguish between a prince and a beggar. I have said she is an adulteress, and I have said with whom. Even more than that, she is a traitor, and she is in league with Camillo, who knows what she should be ashamed of: that she’s an adulteress. She’s as bad as the women that common people give the coarsest name to, and she knew that they were escaping.

No, I swear on my life I knew none of this. You’ll regret publicly shaming me like this when you realize you are wrong! My gentle lord, you can make it all right again by saying you made a mistake.

No. If I am wrong about this, then the Earth isn’t big enough to hold a schoolboy’s top. Take her to prison! Anyone who would defend her is indirectly as guilty as she is, just by speaking.

The stars must be aligned in a way that is making everyone mad! I must be patient until their positions change. My good lords, I don’t cry as much as other women do, which might make you think I’m not deserving of pity. But my honorable grief burns more fiercely than tears can extinguish. I beg you all, my lords, judge me in as measured a manner as your sense of charity will allow. And so carry out the king’s will!

Will I be obeyed?

Who will go with me? Your highness, I beg that my women might go with me, since I need help in my condition. Don’t cry, my dear ones. There’s no reason to. If you ever know that your mistress is guilty and deserves to be in prison, then you can cry when I come out. But since I’m innocent, this trial I’m enduring will make me more virtuous. Goodbye, my lord. I never wanted to see you feeling sorry, but now I know I will. My women, come, you have permission.

Go on, do as I say!

Your highness, I beg you, call the queen back.

Be sure of what you are doing, sir, or what you think is justice might prove to be injustice, and three great people might suffer—you, your queen, and your son.

My lord, I would lay down my life for the queen in belief that she is virtuous in both the eyes of heaven and to you. She is innocent of what you accuse her of.

If it turns out she’s unfaithful, I’ll guard my wife as vigilantly as I guard my horses, and I’ll go about leashed together with her. I will only trust her when I can touch her or see her, because if the queen is lying, then every woman in the world must be a liar.

Be quiet.

My good lord—

We’re speaking for your sake, not our own. Some liar has abused your confidence, and he’ll be damned for it. If I knew who it was, I would thrash him without pity. If the queen isn’t honorable, my three daughters will pay for it, by my honor. The oldest is eleven, the next is nine and the third is about five, and I’ll make them all incapable of bearing children. They’ll be unable to have illegitimate children by the time they’re fourteen. They are all my heirs, and I’d rather castrate myself than have them bear anything other than legitimate children.

Stop. Say no more. You’re about as perceptive as a dead man, but I see it and feel it as you feel this. And I also see the fingers that feel.

If it is true, we don’t need a grave to bury honesty, because it means that there is not a shred of it on this earth.

What? You don’t believe me?

My lord, I would rather you be wrong than me in this instance. And I’d rather it turn out that she is honorable than that you are right, regardless of how you’re blamed for it.

Why do I have to debate this with you, instead of just following my own strong impulse? As king I’m not required to seek your advice, though I tell you this information out of natural goodness. But if you, who are either confused or pretend to be, can’t understand the truth as I do, then I don’t need any more of your advice. The entire affair is in my hands.

My lord, I only wish you had spent more time considering your judgment, without making it public.

How do you mean? Either you have become a fool with age, or you were born that way. Camillo’s fleeing and their intimacy, which was as obvious as any suspicion that lacked only an eyewitness to confirm it, together push this matter forward. Still, since this is a serious matter and shouldn’t be handled rashly, I’ve sent Cleomenes and Dion to get further confirmation at Apollo’s temple in Delphos. You know they are competent. They’ll bring word from the oracle, and I’ll heed whatever advice it gives, whether for or against my suspicion. Is that good?

Very good, my lord.

Even though I am sure that I am right, the oracle will convince everyone else, such as those who find themselves unable to accept the truth. So I have thought it a good idea to confine her and keep her away from me, so the treachery of Camillo and Polixenes is not left to her to perform. Come, follow me. I’m going to speak to the public, since this matter will incite everyone to action.

(aside) Incite everyone to laughter, I believe, if the truth were known.