Thou art perfect, then, our ship hath touch’d upon
The deserts of Bohemia?
you art perfect, then, our ship has touch’d upon The deserts of Bohemia?
you art perfect, then, our ship has touch’d upon The deserts of Bohemia?
you art perfect our ship has touch’d upon the deserts of bohemia?
The Mariner speaks with the superstitious certainty of a sailor — the weather, the mood of the heavens, and his own conscience all form a unified message. Watch for how his urgency functions as dramatic foreshadowing: he knows something is wrong without being able to name it.
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.
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.
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.
my lord and fear we have landed in ill time the skies look grimly
Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard;
Look to thy bark: I’ll not be long before
I call upon thee.
Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; Look to your bark: I’ll not be long before I call upon you.
Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; Look to your bark: I’ll not be long before I call upon you.
their sacred wills be done! go get aboard look to your bark i’ll not be long before i call upon you
Make your best haste, and go not
Too far i’ th’ land: ’tis like to be loud weather;
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
Of prey that keep upon ’t.
Make your best haste, and go not Too far i’ th’ land: ’tis like to be loud weather; Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon ’t.
Make your best haste, and go not Too far i’ th’ land: ’tis like to be loud weather; Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon ’t.
make your best haste and go not too far i’ th’ land ’tis like to be loud weather besides
Go thou away:
I’ll follow instantly.
Go you away: I’ll follow instantly.
Go you away: I’ll follow instantly.
go you away i’ll follow instantly
I am glad at heart
To be so rid o’ th’ business.
I am glad at heart To be so rid o’ th’ business.
I'm glad at heart To be so rid o’ th’ business.
i am glad at heart to be so rid o’ th’ business
Come, poor babe.
I have heard, but not believ’d, the spirits of 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 becoming: in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay: thrice bow’d 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 thrower-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 ne’er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more.” And so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys,
Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar’d by this. I do believe
Hermione hath suffer’d 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 its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! There lie; and there thy
character: there these;
Come, poor babe. I have heard, but not believ’d, the spirits of the dead May walk again: if such thing be, your 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 becoming: in pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay: thrice bow’d before me, And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts. The fury spent, soon Did this break from her: “Good Antigonus, Since fate, against your better disposition, has made your person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to yours oath, Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weep, and leave it crying. And, for the babe Is counted lost for ever, Perdita I please call’t. For this ungentle business, Put on you by my lord, you ne’er shalt see your wife Paulina more.” And so, with shrieks, She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself and thought This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys, Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, I will be squar’d by this. I do believe Hermione has suffer’d 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 its right father. Blossom, speed you well! There lie; and there your character: there these;
Come, poor babe. I have heard, but not believ’d, the spirits of the dead May walk again: if such thing be, your 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 becoming: in pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay: thrice bow’d before me, And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts. The fury spent, soon Did this break from her: “Good Antigonus, Since fate, against your better disposition, has made your person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to yours oath, Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weep, and leave it crying. And, for the babe Is counted lost for ever, Perdita I please call’t. For this ungentle business, Put on you by my lord, you ne’er shalt see your wife Paulina more.” And so, with shrieks, She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself and thought This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys, Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, I will be squar’d by this. I do believe Hermione has suffer’d 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 its right father. Blossom, speed you well! There lie; and there your character: there these;
poor babe i have heard but not believ’d
The bear in The Winter's Tale is one of Shakespeare's most discussed staging choices. There are two theories: that the 1611 productions used a real bear (the Globe was near the bear-baiting arenas of Bankside, and live bears were available), or that they used an actor in a bear costume for comic effect. Both interpretations work, but for different reasons. A real bear is pure terror: a 1,200-pound predator on a stage produces genuine panic in an audience, and Antigonus's death is real horror. An actor in a costume plays the scene for dark comedy: the absurdity of the bear amplifies the tonal shift Shakespeare is engineering. Most scholars believe a costumed actor was more likely — but the text gives no guidance. What's clear is that Shakespeare wanted the bear visible on stage, not described offstage. The famous stage direction 'Exit, pursued by a bear' is theatrical commitment: whatever the bear is, we watch it chase a man to his death.
The Shepherd opens the scene's comic half with a magnificent grumble about youth — a man whose relationship to the world is entirely practical and surprisingly gentle. Watch for how he turns finding a royal baby into a business matter without losing his warmth.
I would there were no age between ten 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 weather? They have scared away two of my
best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master: if
anywhere I have them, ’tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck,
an ’t be thy will, what have we here?
I would there were no age between ten 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 weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master: if anywhere I have them, ’tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an ’t be your will, what have we here?
I would there were no age between ten 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 weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master: if anywhere I have them, ’tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an ’t be your will, what have we here?
i would there were no age between ten or that youth would sleep out the rest for there is nothing in the between but wronging the ancientry
The Winter's Tale is divided precisely in half by this scene: sixteen years of grief in Sicilia, sixteen years of pastoral happiness in Bohemia. Shakespeare makes the pivot as abrupt as possible — Antigonus's death and the Clown's comic narration of it happen almost simultaneously. The structural move is borrowed from Greek tragicomedy (particularly the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher that were fashionable around 1610), but Shakespeare does something his sources don't: he makes the pivot within a single scene. We watch Antigonus go to his death with tragic solemnity, and then the Shepherd enters, grumbling about youth. The effect is like two films spliced together at the wrong point — except it's deliberate. Shakespeare is saying: the world doesn't stop for tragedy. The Shepherd's sheep need to be found. Life goes on, and sometimes life finds orphaned princesses in christening blankets by the sea.
The Clown is the Shepherd's son — enthusiastic, easily overwhelmed, and gifted with extraordinarily vivid description. His account of the simultaneous bear-and-shipwreck is one of Shakespeare's great comic speeches. Watch for how he can't decide which tragedy to witness.
Hilloa, loa!
Hilloa, loa!
Hilloa, loa!
hilloa
What, art so near? If thou’lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead
and rotten, come hither. What ail’st thou, man?
What, art so near? If you’lt see a thing to talk on when you art dead and rotten, come here. What ail’st you, man?
What, art so near? If you’lt see a thing to talk on when you art dead and rotten, come here. What ail’st you, man?
art so near? if you’lt see a thing come here what ail’st you
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.
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.
I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! But I'm not to say it's a sea, for it's now the sky: betwixt the firmament and it, you can't thrust a bodkin’s point.
i have seen two such sights by sea and by land! but i am for it is now the sky betwixt the firmament and it
The Shepherd's interpretation of the baby and the gold as fairy gifts is entirely consistent with Elizabethan folk belief. Changelings — babies left by fairies in exchange for stolen human children — were genuinely feared and genuinely believed in. The Shepherd's instinct to keep everything secret ('secrecy' is his one requirement for holding on to luck) comes directly from the folk-tale logic that fairy gifts disappear if you talk about them. What's remarkable is how well this folk framework actually describes the plot: Perdita is a kind of changeling — a royal child placed in a peasant world — and her 'fairy gold' is real gold, put there by a Sicilian lord under orders from a king. The folk-tale explanation is wrong in the details and exactly right in the structure. The Shepherd doesn't need to know the truth about where the baby came from; he only needs to be the right person to find her. And he is: gentle, decent, and wise enough not to ask too many questions about fortune when it arrives.
Why, boy, how is it?
Why, boy, how is it?
Why, boy, how is it?
how is it?
I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up
the shore! But that’s not to 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 mainmast, and anon swallowed with yest and
froth, as you’d thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land
service, to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cried
to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to
make an end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragon’d it: but
first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them, and how the
poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder
than the sea or weather.
I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! But that’s not to 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 mainmast, and soon swallowed with yest and froth, as you’d thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service, to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragon’d it: but first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them, and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather.
I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! But that’s not to 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 mainmast, and soon swallowed with yest and froth, as you’d thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service, to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragon’d it: but first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them, and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather.
i would you did but see how it chafes how it rages how it takes up the shore! but that’s
Name of mercy, when was this, boy?
Name of mercy, when was this, boy?
Name of mercy, when was this, boy?
name of mercy when was this
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.
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.
Now, now. I haven't 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.
i have not winked since i saw these sights the men are not yet cold under water
Would I had been by to have helped the old man!
Would I had been by to have helped the old man!
Would I had been by to have helped the old man!
would i had been by to have helped the old man!
I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her: there your
charity would have lacked footing.
I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing.
I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing.
i would you had been by the ship side to have helped her there your charity would have lacked footing
Heavy matters, heavy matters! But look thee here, boy. Now bless
thyself: thou met’st with things dying, I with things new-born. 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 fairies. This is some changeling: open’t.
What’s within, boy?
Heavy matters, heavy matters! But look you here, boy. Now bless thyself: you met’st with things dying, I with things new-born. Here’s a sight for you. Look you, a bearing-cloth for a squire’s child! Look you here; take up, take up, boy; open’t. So, let’s see. It was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changeling: open’t. What’s within, boy?
Heavy matters, heavy matters! But look you here, boy. Now bless thyself: you met’st with things dying, I with things new-born. Here’s a sight for you. Look you, a bearing-cloth for a squire’s child! Look you here; take up, take up, boy; open’t. So, let’s see. It was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changeling: open’t. What’s within, boy?
heavy matters heavy matters! but look you here now bless thyself
You’re a made old man. If the sins of your youth are forgiven you,
you’re well to live. Gold! all gold!
You’re a made old man. If the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you’re well to live. Gold! all gold!
You’re a made old man. If the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you’re well to live. Gold! all gold!
you’re a made old man if the sins of your youth are forgiven you you’re well to live gold! all gold!
This is fairy gold, boy, and ’twill prove so. Up with it, 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.
This is fairy gold, boy, and ’twill prove so. Up with it, 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.
This is fairy gold, boy, and ’twill prove so. Up with it, 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.
this is fairy gold and ’twill prove so up with it
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.
Go you the next way with your findings. I’ll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he has eaten. They are never curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I’ll bury it.
Go you the next way with your findings. I’ll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he has eaten. They are never curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I’ll bury it.
go you the next way with your findings i’ll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much he has eaten they are never curst but when they
That’s a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which is left of him
what he is, fetch me to th’ sight of him.
That’s a good deed. If you mayest discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to th’ sight of him.
That’s a good deed. If you mayest discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to th’ sight of him.
that’s a good deed if you mayest discern by that which is fetch me to th’ sight of him
Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i’ th’ ground.
Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i’ th’ ground.
Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i’ th’ ground.
will i and you shall help to put him i’ th’ ground
’Tis a lucky day, boy, and we’ll do good deeds on ’t.
’Tis a lucky day, boy, and we’ll do good deeds on ’t.
’Tis a lucky day, boy, and we’ll do good deeds on ’t.
’tis a lucky day and we’ll do good deeds on ’t
The Reckoning
The tonal rupture in this scene is one of the most audacious things Shakespeare ever did. In the space of twenty minutes, he transitions from Greek tragedy — Antigonus's dream of Hermione, the storm, the bear — to something approaching slapstick comedy, with the Shepherd muttering about young men hunting in bad weather and the Clown's breathless account of being unable to figure out which disaster to watch first, the bear or the shipwreck. The play's tonal pivot is complete. The old world dies with Antigonus. The new world begins with a baby and a box of gold.
If this happened today…
A corporate lawyer is ordered by his paranoid boss to drop confidential documents in a dumpster outside the city. On the way there, he stops at a gas station for directions, gets carjacked at knifepoint, and is found by a passing road-crew worker who keeps the documents, figures they're valuable, and calls his son over to look at what they found. Meanwhile, an elderly shepherd type, muttering about reckless young people, has already stumbled on what fell out during the carjacking — a baby in a car seat with a bag of cash — and is waiting for his son to arrive so they can figure out what to do.