The Winter's Tale

William Shakespeare

• Editore: HarperPerennial Classics
• Anno: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781443443562
• Argomento: Literatura
• Categoria: Arte dramático

Believing his wife, Hermione, to be unfaithful, King Leontes of Sicilia, orders her new-born child abandoned in the wilderness. But when Hermione's fidelity is proven by the divinations of the Oracle of Delphi, Leontes is cursed to have no heir until his daughter is found. Sixteen years later, the abandoned child, now the shepherdess Perdita, returns to Sicilia seeking refuge, only to learn her true identity.

Known as "The Bard of Avon, " William Shakespeare is arguably the greatest English-language writer known. Enormously popular during his life, Shakespeare's works continue to resonate more than three centuries after his death, as has his influence on theatre and literature. Shakespeare's innovative use of character, language, and experimentation with romance as tragedy served as a foundation for later playwrights and dramatists, and some of his most famous lines of dialogue have become part of everyday speech.

HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital format, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.

ACT FOUR

SCENE I. Enter TIME, the Chorus.

TIME I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror

Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error,

Now take upon me, in the name of Time,

To use my wings. Impute it not a crime

[5]

To me or my swift passage that I slide

O’er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried

Of that wide gap, since it is in my pow’r

To o’erthrow law, and in one self-born hour

To plant and o’erwhelm custom. Let me pass

[10]

The same I am, ere ancient’st order was

Or what is now receiv’d. I witness to

The times that brought them in; so shall I do

To th’ freshest things now reigning, and make stale

The glistering of this present, as my tale

[15]

Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,

I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing

As you had slept between. Leontes leaving –

Th’ effects of his fond jealousies so grieving

That he shuts up himself – imagine me,

[20]

Gentle spectators, that I now may be

In fair Bohemia; and remember well

I mention’d a son o’ th’ King’s, which Florizel

I now name to you; and with speed so pace

To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace

[25]

Equal with wond’ring. What of her ensues

I list not prophesy; but let Time’s news

Be known when ’tis brought forth. A shepherd’s daughter,

And what to her adheres, which follows after,

Is th’ argument of Time. Of this allow,

[30]

If ever you have spent time worse ere now;

If never, yet that Time himself doth say

He wishes earnestly you never may.

[Exit.

SCENE II. Bohemia. The palace of Polixenes.

Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO.

POLIXENES I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: ’tis a sickness denying thee anything; a death to grant this.

CAMILLO It is fifteen years since I saw my country; though I have for the most part been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones there.

Besides, the penitent King, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o’erween to think so, which is

[9]

another spur to my departure.

POLIXENES As thou lov’st me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now. The need I have of thee thine own goodness hath made. Better not to have had thee than thus to want thee; thou, having made me businesses which none without thee can sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute them thyself, or take away with thee the very services thou hast done; which if I have not enough considered – as too much I cannot – to be more thankful to thee shall be my study; and my profit therein the heaping friendships. Of that fatal country Sicilia, prithee, speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call’st him, and reconciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw’st thou the Prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them when they have approved their virtues.

[27]

[32]

CAMILLO Sir, it is three days since I saw the Prince. What his happier affairs may be are to me unknown; but I have missingly noted he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appeared.

[39]

POLIXENES I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some care, so far that I have eyes under my service which look upon his removedness; from whom I have this intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd – a man, they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate.

[42]

CAMILLO I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note. The report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.

POLIXENES That’s likewise part of my intelligence; but, I fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the place; where we will, not appearing what we are, have some question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son’s resort thither. Prithee be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.

[50]

CAMILLO I willingly obey your command.

POLIXENES My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Bohemia. A road near the shepherd’s cottage.

Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing.

When daffodils begin to peer,

With heigh! the doxy over the dale,

Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year,

For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale.

[5]

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,

With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!

Doth set my pugging tooth on edge,

For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

The lark, that tirra-lirra chants,

With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the

[10]

jay,

Are summer songs for me and my aunts,

While we lie tumbling in the hay.

I have serv’d Prince Florizel, and in my time wore three-pile; but now I am out of service.

[15]

But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?

The pale moon shines by night;

And when I wander here and there,

I then do most go right.

If tinkers may have leave to live,

[20]

And bear the sow-skin budget,

Then my account I well may give

And in the stocks avouch it.

My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father nam’d me Autolycus; who, being, as I am, litter’d under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.

With die and drab I purchas’d this caparison; and my revenue is the silly-cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway; beating and hanging are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. A prize!

[30]

a prize!

Enter Clown.

CLOWN Let me see: every ‘leven wether tods; every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wool to?

AUTOLYCUS [Aside] If the springe hold, the

[34]

cock’s mine.

[46]

CLOWN I cannot do’t without counters. Let me see: what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast...