The Winter’s Tale

You are sure that our ship has landed at the desert of Bohemia?

Yes, my lord, and I fear we’ve landed at a bad time. The sky is dark, and it looks as though a storm approaches. It seems to me that the heavens are angry at what we are about to do and are unhappy with us.

Let their sacred will be done! Go aboard, and see to your ship. I’ll call for you shortly.

Go as quickly as you can, and don’t venture too far inland. It promises to be a dreadful storm, and this area is famous for its predators.

Go away. I’ll be right behind you.

I’m happy to be done with this business.

Come, poor child. I’ve heard but never believed that the spirits of the dead might walk the earth. But perhaps it is true, because last night your mother appeared to me, and no dream ever seemed so real. She comes to me with her head to one side or the other, and I’ve never seen anyone so filled with sorrow and so beautiful. Dressed in pure white robes, she came to my room where I was resting. She bowed three times to me, and struggling to speak, she broke into tears. Once her fury was spent, these words came out: “Good Antigonus, since fate, against your good nature, has chosen you to cast out my child according to your oath, leave her in the remote places of Bohemia. There you weep, and leave the child crying. Since she is lost forever, I ask you to call her Perdita. Because of this terrible business forced upon you, you will never see your wife Paulina again.” And then she disappeared, shrieking. Very frightened, I finally got myself together and decided it had truly happened and wasn’t a dream. Dreams are just trifles, but for this once, even if it’s superstition, I’ll be ruled by one. I believe that Hermione has died, and that this child is truly the child of King Polixenes, so Apollo would want her to be left, whether to life or death, on the land of her real father. Blossom, fare you well! (he lays down the child and a scroll) Lie there, and I’ll put an account of your parentage with you. (he puts down a box) These jewels and gold will help pay for your upbringing, and if fortune pleases, leave some left over for you. * (thunder)* The storm is beginning. Poor child, because of your mother’s transgressions you are left out to die! I can’t weep, but my heart bleeds, and I’m cursed for having to do this deed. Farewell! The day gets worse and worse. You are likely to be lulled to sleep with a rough lullaby. I’ve never seen the sky look so dark during the day. What a savage noise! I’ll be lucky to get on board! This is the hunt! I’m gone forever.

I wish that the ages between sixteen and twenty-three didn’t exist, or that young men would spend them asleep. Otherwise there is nothing between those ages but getting girls pregnant, acting dishonestly toward their elders, stealing, fighting—look at this! Would anyone but an addlebrained nineteen or twenty-two-year-old hunt in this weather? They’ve scared away two of my best sheep, which I’m afraid the wolf will find before I do. If I find them anywhere it’ll be by the shore, eating ivy. What is this here? Mercy, it’s a baby, a pretty baby! A boy or a girl, I wonder? A pretty one, a very pretty one. Here is the product of some forbidden affair. I’m not a scholar, but I can read the signs of a lady-in-waiting behind this. It must have been some secret sexual relationship carried out in back stairs, in large chests, or behind closed doors. The man and woman who conceived this child were more hot-blooded than the poor baby is. Out of pity I’ll take it, but I’ll wait here until my son comes. I heard him shout just a moment ago. Hallo!

Hallo!

What, are you near? If you want to see something to talk about when you are dead and rotten, come here. What is wrong with you?

I’ve seen two such sights, on sea and on land! But I won’t say it is a sea, since the sky is just as wet from the storm. You couldn’t squeeze a needle’s point between the sky and the sea.

Why, boy, what’s happening there?

I wish you could see how it rages and rushes up the shore! But that’s not the point. Oh, the pitiful cries of the men, coming in and out of sight. Then the ship would rise up so its mast looked like it hit the moon, and the next moment it was swallowed by the frothing waves. And then on land, I saw how the bear tore out his shoulder, and he cried to me for help. He said his name was Antigonus, and he was a nobleman. But to finish telling you about the ship, you should have seen how the sea swallowed it up. But first the poor men roared, and the sea mocked them, and then the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, and they both roared louder than either the sea or the storm.

Goodness me, when did this happen?

Just now—I haven’t even blinked since I saw these sights. The men aren’t yet cold under the water, and the bear has only partly dined on the gentleman—he’s still eating now.

If only I’d been close by to help the gentleman!

I wish you had been near the ship so you could have helped it—on the water you wouldn’t have had a place to stand.

Sad affairs, sad affairs! But look here, boy. Say a blessing. While you were watching things dying, I was meeting with things newly born. Here’s a sight for you. Look, baby clothes for a squire’s child! Look here, pick it up, boy, and open it. Let’s see what’s in it. I’ve been told that the fairies would make me rich. This is some changeling. Open it. What’s in it, boy?

You are set, old man! As long as the sins of your youth have been forgiven, you’ll live well. It’s gold, all gold!

This is fairy gold, boy, and will prove to be. Pick it up, and hold it close. Let’s go home. We are lucky, boy, and to keep it that way we have to keep this matter a secret. Let the sheep go. Come, good boy, let’s go home.

Go home yourself with what you’ve found. I’ll go see if the bear has left the gentleman and how much of him he ate. They are only vicious when they are hungry. If there is anything left of the gentleman, I’ll bury it.

That’s a good deed. If you can tell by what’s left of him who he was, bring me to the body.

I will, and then you can help me bury him.

It’s a lucky day, boy, and we’ll do good deeds to mark it.