text stringlengths 1 3.08k |
|---|
PAULINA: This news is mortal to the queen: look down And see what death is doing. |
LEONTES: Take her hence: Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover: I have too much believed mine own suspicion: Beseech you, tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle! I'll reconcile me to Polixenes, New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo, Whom I pro... |
PAULINA: Woe the while! O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, Break too. |
First Lord: What fit is this, good lady? |
PAULINA: What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling? In leads or oils? what old or newer torture Must I receive, whose every word deserves To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny Together working with thy jealousies, Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle For gir... |
First Lord: The higher powers forbid! |
PAULINA: I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye, Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier Than all thy woes can stir; therefore b... |
LEONTES: Go on, go on Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved All tongues to talk their bitterest. |
First Lord: Say no more: Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I' the boldness of your speech. |
PAULINA: I am sorry for't: All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent. Alas! I have show'd too much The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd To the noble heart. What's gone and what's past help Should be past grief: do not receive affliction At my petition; I beseech you, rather Let me be punish'd, th... |
LEONTES: Thou didst speak but well When most the truth; which I receive much better Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me To the dead bodies of my queen and son: One grave shall be for both: upon them shall The causes of their death appear, unto Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit The chapel where they li... |
ANTIGONUS: Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon The deserts of Bohemia? |
Mariner: Ay, my lord: and fear We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry And frown upon 's. |
ANTIGONUS: Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; Look to thy bark: I'll not be long before I call upon thee. |
Mariner: Make your best haste, and go not Too far i' the land: 'tis like to be loud weather; Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon't. |
ANTIGONUS: Go thou away: I'll follow instantly. |
Mariner: I am glad at heart To be so rid o' the business. |
ANTIGONUS: Come, poor babe: I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o' the dead May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another; I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill'd and so be... |
Shepherd: I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting--Hark you now! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weath... |
Clown: Hilloa, loa! |
Shepherd: What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man? |
Clown: I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky: betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point. |
Shepherd: Why, boy, how is it? |
Clown: I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not the point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a cork into a ho... |
Shepherd: Name of mercy, when was this, boy? |
Clown: Now, now: I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman: he's at it now. |
Shepherd: Would I had been by, to have helped the old man! |
Clown: I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing. |
Shepherd: Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things dying, I with things newborn. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's child! look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let's see: it was told me I should be rich by the fairie... |
Clown: You're a made old man: if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold! |
Shepherd: This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with't, keep it close: home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go: come, good boy, the next way home. |
Clown: Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much he hath eaten: they are never curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it. |
Shepherd: That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the sight of him. |
Clown: Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' the ground. |
Shepherd: 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't. |
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 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 power To o'erth... |
POLIXENES: I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: 'tis a sickness denying thee any thing; 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 another spur to my departure. |
POLIXENES: As thou lovest 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 thys... |
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. |
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 neighbou... |
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, ... |
CAMILLO: I willingly obey your command. |
POLIXENES: My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves. |
AUTOLYCUS: 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. 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... |
Clown: Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn. what comes the wool to? |
AUTOLYCUS: |
Clown: I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice,--what will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for the she... |
AUTOLYCUS: O that ever I was born! |
Clown: I' the name of me-- |
AUTOLYCUS: O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death! |
Clown: Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off. |
AUTOLYCUS: O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions. |
Clown: Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter. |
AUTOLYCUS: I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me. |
Clown: What, by a horseman, or a footman? |
AUTOLYCUS: A footman, sweet sir, a footman. |
Clown: Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he has left with thee: if this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand. |
AUTOLYCUS: O, good sir, tenderly, O! |
Clown: Alas, poor soul! |
AUTOLYCUS: O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out. |
Clown: How now! canst stand? |
AUTOLYCUS: |
Clown: Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. |
AUTOLYCUS: No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart. |
Clown: What manner of fellow was he that robbed you? |
AUTOLYCUS: A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the prince: I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court. |
Clown: His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide. |
AUTOLYCUS: Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue... |
Clown: Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs and bear-baitings. |
AUTOLYCUS: Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that put me into this apparel. |
Clown: Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run. |
AUTOLYCUS: I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him. |
Clown: How do you now? |
AUTOLYCUS: Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's. |
Clown: Shall I bring thee on the way? |
AUTOLYCUS: No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. |
Clown: Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing. |
AUTOLYCUS: Prosper you, sweet sir! Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I make not this cheat bring out another and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name put in the book of virtue! Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the ... |
FLORIZEL: These your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And you the queen on't. |
PERDITA: Sir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extremes it not becomes me: O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self, The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscured With a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid, Most goddess-like prank'd up: but that our feasts In every mess have folly and the feeders Digest it... |
FLORIZEL: I bless the time When my good falcon made her flight across Thy father's ground. |
PERDITA: Now Jove afford you cause! To me the difference forges dread; your greatness Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble To think your father, by some accident, Should pass this way as you did: O, the Fates! How would he look, to see his work so noble Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how Should I, in ... |
FLORIZEL: Apprehend Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune A ram, and bleated; and the fire-robed god, Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, As I seem now. Their transformations Were never ... |
PERDITA: O, but, sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the king: One of these two must be necessities, Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose, Or I my life. |
FLORIZEL: Thou dearest Perdita, With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair, Or not my father's. For I cannot be Mine own, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine. To this I am most constant, Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle; Strangle such thoughts as these... |
PERDITA: O lady Fortune, Stand you auspicious! |
FLORIZEL: See, your guests approach: Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth. |
Shepherd: Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all; Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here, At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire With labour and the thing she too... |
PERDITA: |
POLIXENES: Shepherdess, A fair one are you--well you fit our ages With flowers of winter. |
PERDITA: Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them. |
POLIXENES: Wherefore, gentle maiden, Do you neglect them? |
PERDITA: For I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature. |
POLIXENES: Say there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean: so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which do... |
PERDITA: So it is. |
POLIXENES: Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, And do not call them bastards. |
PERDITA: I'll not put The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; No more than were I painted I would wish This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: t... |
CAMILLO: I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing. |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.