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Alon. What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?

Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours:

Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us,
And brought us thus together?

Fer.
Sir, she is mortal ;
But by immortal Providence she's mine: 189
I chose her when I could not ask my father
For his advice, nor thought I had one. She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,
Of whom so often I have heard renown,
But never saw before; of whom I have
Received a second life; and second father
This lady makes him to me.
I am hers:

Alon.

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you gods,

And on this couple drop a blessed crown!
For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way
Which brought us hither.

Alon.
I say, Amen, Gonzalo !
Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that
his issue

Should become kings of Naples ? O, rejoice
Beyond a common joy, and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis

And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife 210 Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom

In a poor isle and all of us ourselves

When no man was his own.

Alon. [To Fer. and Mir.] Give me your hands:

Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart
That doth not wish you joy!

Gon.
Be it so! Amen!
Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boat-
swain amazedly following.

9, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us : I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,

That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore ?

Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?

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Is tight and yare and bravely rigg'd as when We first put out to sea.

Ari. [Aside to Pros.] Sir, all this service Have I done since I went.

Pros. [Aside to Ari.] My tricksy spirit! Alon. These are not natural events; they strengthen

From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?

Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake,

I'ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,
And-how we know not-all clapp'd under
hatches;
[noises
Where but even now with strange and several
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible
We were awaked; straightway, at liberty;
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master
Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please

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Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of this business; at pick'd

leisure

Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you, Which to you shall seem probable, of every These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheer250

ful

And think of each thing well. [Aside to Ari.] Come hither, spirit:

Set Caliban and his companions free ;
Untie the spell. [Exit Ariel.] How fares my
gracious sir?

There are yet missing of your company
Some few odd lads that you remember not.
Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STE-
PHANO and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel.

Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio ! Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight. 260

Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!

How fine my master is! I am afraid
He will chastise me.

Seb.

Ha, ha!

What things are these, my lord Antonio ? Will money buy 'em?

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Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. Pros. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords

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ners

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As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;
Take with you your companions; as you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter

And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god
And worship this dull fool!

Pros.
Go to; away!
Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage
where you found it.

Seb. Or stole it, rather.

[Exeunt Cal., Ste., and Trin. Pros. Sir, I invite your highness and your train

300

To my poor cell, where you shall take your

rest

For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it

Go quick away; the story of my life
And the particular accidents gone by
Since I came to this isle and in the morn
I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-beloved solemnized;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where 310
Every third thought shall be my grave.
I long
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.
I'll deliver all;

Alon.

Pros.

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales
And sail so expeditious that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to Ari.] My
Ariel, chick,

That is thy charge: then to the elements
Be free, and fare thou well! Please you,
draw near.
[Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY PROSPERO.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free,

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20

THE WINTER'S TALE.

(WRITTEN ABOUT 1610-11.)

INTRODUCTION.

The Winter's Tale was seen at the Globe on May 15, 1611, by Dr. Forman, and is described in his MS. Booke of Plaies and Notes thereof. The versification is that of Shakespeare's latest group of plays: no five-measure lines are rhymed; run-on lines and double endings are numerous. Its tone and feeling place it in the same period with The Tempest and Cymbeline; its breezy air is surely that which blew over Warwickshire fields upon Shakespeare now returned to Stratford; its country lads and lasses, and their junketings, are those with which the poet had in a happy spirit renewed his acquaintance. The Winter's Tale is perhaps the last complete play that Shakespeare wrote. It is founded upon Greene's Pandosto (or, as it was afterward named, Dorastus and Fawnia) first published in 1588. The idea of introducing Time as a chorus comes from Greene, and all the principal characters, except Pauline and the incomparable rogue Autolycus. After his manner, Shakespeare drives forward to what chiefly interests him in the subject. The jealousy of Leontes is not a detailed dramatic study like the love and jealousy of Othello. It is a gross madness which mounts to the brain, and turns Leontes' whole nature into unreasoning passion. The character of the noble sufferer Hermione is that with which the dramatist is above all concerned-this first; and, secondly, the grace, beauty, and girlish happiness of Perdita; while of the subordinate persons of the drama, Shakespeare delights chiefly in his own creation, Autolycus, the most charming of rogues and rovers. Hermione may be placed side by side with the Queen Katharine of Henry VIII., which play belongs to this period. Both are noble sufferers, who by the dignity and purity of their natures transcend all feeling of vulgar resentment. Deep and even quick feeling never renders Hermione incapable of an admirable justice, nor deprives her of a true sense of pity for him who so gravely wrongs both her and himself. The meeting of kindred, with forgiveness and reconciliation, if these are called for by past offences, forms the common ending of the last plays of Shakespeare. Perdita belongs to the group of exquisite youthful figures set over against those of their graver and sadder elders in the plays of this period. She is one of the same company with Miranda and Marina, and the youthful sons of Cymbeline. The shepherdess-princess, "queen of curds and cream,' "is less a vision than Miranda, the child of wonder, but more perhaps a creature of this earth. There is nothing lovelier or more innocently joyous in poetry than Perdita at the rustic merry-making, sharing her flowers with old and young. And in Florizel she has found a lover, full of the innocence and chivalry of unstained early manhood. Autolycus stands by himself among the creations of the dramatist. The art of thieving as practised by him is no crime, but the gift of some knavish god. He does not trample on the laws of morality, but dances or leaps over them with so nimble a foot that we forbear to stay him. In the sad world which contains a Leontes and can lose a Mamillius, so light-hearted a wanderer must be pardoned even if he be light-fingered, and sometimes mistakes for his own the sheet bleaching on the hedge, which happens to be ours.

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АСТ І. SCENE I. Antechamber in LEONTES' palace.

Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS. Arch. If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.

Cam. I think, this coming summer, the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.

Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be justified in our loves; for indeed10

Cam. Beseech you,Arch. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence-in so rare-I know not what to say. We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse

us.

Cam. You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely.

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Arch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.

Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent, shook hands, as over a vast, and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves!

Arch. I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note.

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now,

Were there necessity in your request, although
'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs
Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder
Were in your love a whip to me; my stay
To you a charge and trouble: to save both,
Farewell, our brother.

Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you. Her. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until

You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,

Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are 30

sure

All in Bohemia's well; this satisfaction
The by-gone day proclaim'd: say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.

Leon.
Well said, Hermione.
Her. 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 adventure
The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
You take my lord, I'll give him my commis-
sion
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To let him there a month behind the gest
Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,

I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind
What lady-she her lord. You'll stay?

Pol.

No, madam.

I may not, verily,

Her. Nay, but you will?

Pol.

Her. Verily!

You put me off with limber vows; but I, Though you would seek to unsphere the stars

with oaths,

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Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily,
You shall not go a lady's Verily''s
As 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 fees
When you depart, and save your thanks. How
say you?

My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread 'Verily,'

One of them you shall be.

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

Than you to punish.

Her.

Not your gaoler, then,

But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question

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Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd
That any did. Had we pursued that life,
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd
heaven

Boldly not guilty;' the imposition clear'd
Hereditary ours.
Her.

By this we gather
You have tripp'd since.
Pol.
O my most sacred lady!
Temptations have since then been born to's;
for

In those unfledged days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes

Of my young play-fellow.

Grace to boot!

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Her. Of this make no conclusion, lest you say Your queen and I are devils: yet go on; The offences we have made you do we'll

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I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's

As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless

Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that.
Our praises are our wages: you may ride's
With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere
With spur we heat 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.

Leon. Why, that was when 101 Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves

to death,

Ere I could make thee open thy white hand And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter

'I am yours for ever.'

Her.

'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.

Leon.
[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 entertainment
May a free face put on, derive a liberty
From 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
'twere

The mort o' the deer; O, that is entertainment

My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius, Art thou my boy?

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And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf
Are all call'd neat.-Still virginalling
Upon his palm !-How now, you wanton calf !
Art thou my calf?

Mam.
Yes, if you will, my lord.
Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash and the
shoots that I have,

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To be full like me: yet they say we are
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will say anything: but were they false
As o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false
As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes
No bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it true

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