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Full speech
Be certain what you do (Sir) least your Justice Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer, Your Self, your Queen, your Son. If it prove She's otherwise, I'll keep my Stables where I lodge my Wife, I'll go in couples with her: Then when I feel, and see her, no farther trust her: For every ynch of Woman in the World, I, every dram of Woman's flesh is false, If she be. It is for you we speak, not for our selves: You are abused, and by some butter on, That will be damned for't: would I knew the Villain, I would Land-damne him: be she honor-flaw'd, I have three daughters: the eldest is eleven; The second, and the third, nine: and some five: If this prove true, they'll pay for't. By mine Honour I'll gell'd em all: fourteen they shall not see To bring false generations: they are coheirs, And I had rather glib my self, then they Should not produce fair issue. If it be so, We need no graven to bury honesty, There's not a grain of it, the face to sweeten Of the whole dungy-earth. And I wish (my Liege) You had only in your silent judgement tried it, Without more overture. To laughter, as I take it, If the good truth, were known. That's enough. Hang all the Husbands That cannot do that Feat, you'll leave your self Hardly one Subject. I did not, Sir: These Lords, my Noble Fellows, if they please, Can clear me in't. Any thing (my Lord) That my ability may undergo, And Nobleness impose: at least thus much; I'll pawn the little blood which I have left, To save the Innocent: any thing possible. I will (my Lord.) I swear to do this: though a present death Had been more merciful. Come on (poor Babe) Some powerful Spirit instruct the Kites and Ravens To be thy Nurse's. Wolves and Bears, they say, (Casting their savageness aside) have done Like offices of Pity. Sir, be prosperous In more then this deed do's require; and Blessing Against this Cruelty, fight on thy side (Poor Thing, condemned to lose.) Go thou away, I'll follow instantly. I told her so (my Lord) On your displeasures peril, and on mine, She should not visit you. La-you now, you hear, When she will take the rain, I let her run, But shee'l not stumble. I am none, by this good light. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touched upon The Deserts of Bohemia. Their sacred will's be done: go get aboard, Look to thy bark, I'll not be long before I call upon thee. Come, poor babe; I have herd (but not believed) the Spirits of the dead May walk again: if such thing be, thy Mother Appeared to me last night: for never was dream So Like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometime her head on one side, some another, I never saw a vessel of Like sorrow So filled, and so becoming: in pure white Robes Like very sanctity she did approach My Cabin where I lay: thrice bowed 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 Thower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, 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 never shalt see Thy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shrickes She melted into Air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect my self, and thought This was so, and no slumber: Dreams, are toys, Yet for this once, yea superstitiously, I will be squared by this. I do believe Hermione hath suffered 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 it's 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 To lose, and what may follow. Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds: and most accursed am I To be by oath enjoined 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. I, and it Like your good Worship.
Plot summary
Plot — The Winter's Tale
Polixenes of Bohemia is coming to the end of a nine-month stay at the Sicilian court of Leontes, his childhood playmate. Leontes cannot persuade him to extend his stay, but the pregnant queen, Hermione, has more success. Leontes conceives a suspicion that Polixenes and Hermione have committed adultery, and that her unborn child is a bastard. He commands Camillo to poison Polixenes, but instead Camillo warns the intended victim and escapes with him to Bohemia. Leontes arrests Hermione and sends to the oracle of Apollo for confirmation of her adultery. She gives birth to a daughter in prison, and Paulina hopes to bring Leontes to his senses by showing him the baby; instead, he orders her husband, Antigonus, to take it out of his dominions and abandon it. Hermione is tried for adultery and treason. The oracle, when read, exonerates her and foretells that, unless the lost be found, Leontes will have no heir. Leontes refuses to believe it, whereupon his son Mamillius, who fell sick when his mother was arrested, dies. Hermione collapses in court and is later reported dead. Antigonus abandons the baby on the coast of Bohemia, and is eaten by a bear. The child, Perdita, is found and adopted by an old shepherd. Sixteen years pass. The penitent Leontes, still mourning Hermione, attempts to recall Camillo to Sicily, but Polixenes will not let him go. Worried by rumours that Prince Florizel is courting a shepherd’s daughter, Polixenes attends the sheep-shearing feast in disguise. When it becomes clear that Florizel intends to marry Perdita without consulting his father, Polixenes intervenes and threatens awful reprisals. Camillo helps Florizel and Perdita to abscond to Sicily, knowing that Polixenes will follow them, enabling him to return home at last. Leontes welcomes the newcomers, who include not only the Bohemian royal family but also the old shepherd, who produces the objects found with baby Perdita; these establish her identity as Leontes’ long-lost daughter. The two kings are reconciled, and Polixenes withdraws his objection to his son’s marriage. The court visits a newly sculpted statue of Hermione in Paulina’s chapel. It turns out to be Hermione herself, still alive and awaiting the return of her daughter.