So I am totes sad that most of the time, people only remember this play for its bizzaro ursine stage direction than for the NONSTOP ELEGANCE of the verse contained within. I am mad at myself for remembering next to nothing about this play, because now it is absolutely one of my favorites. I barely recalled the whole "statue-comes-alive" reveal at the end, which in itself is poetically magical and enchanting. Shakespeare let himself get sentimental again late in his career, and I'm loving it.
It's called The Winter's Tale for one (or both) of two reasons: "winter's tales" were simply escapist stories people would tell while holed up in their homes to pass the time during the bleak months of the year(so familiar), or the overall theme of death/rebirth fit well with both the pagan and Christian themes of the season and associated holidays. Who doesn't love daydreaming about the bright and warm sheep-shearing festivals of the upcoming Spring while bundled up by the fire (or sewing face masks to ward off the PLAGUE)?
This play also continues Shakespeare's recurring theme of daughters redeeming their fathers, but in this case, it's not only the daughter, but every woman in the King's life that has to haul him up out of a ditch of his own digging. Leontes of Sicilia's dumbass jealous manbrain almost immediately becomes his own Iago to his heart's Othello, and thus drives the tragic drama of the first half of the play. Poor, perfect Queen Hermione gets shafted within minutes for no other reason than she jokes with Leontes' best buddy, and gives birth to an angelic daughter in prison. By Act IV, we are more than ready for some light-hearted (but not "lite") youthful romance painted by some of the most quotable and attractive dialogue Shakespeare's ever pumped out. Like, FORGET Romeo and Juliet. Perdita and Florizel flirt not with overzealous emo teen hormones (which make for passionate greeting card stuff, don't get me wrong), but with a kinder, gentler, and heart-melting phraseology of a couple who are deeply in love but would rather sort out a manner of spending the rest of their days together (despite parental displeasure) than murder people and off themselves within two days of their meeting. Gotta love it.
Also, Paulina is my feminist hero. She gives shits about what matters and takes no shit from anybody, especially not the King. Her hapless husband Antigonus may have been the one who was famously ripped apart by the bear on the coast of Bohemia (geography what?), but she rises above that absurdity to save the day at the end with some beautiful "witchcraft." And we all need some fucking witchcraft right now.
ACT I
In Sicilia, within King Leontes' palace, the Lord Camillo of Sicily and Lord Archidamus of Bohemia cheerfully discuss how the two Kings of their nations are such great bosom buddies (one might read that they had been very great bosom buddies at some point, which could explain Leontes' disgust at females a few scenes from now). They anticipate that the King of Bohemia will return the favor of an awesome party when the King of Sicilia visits Bohemia. They also think the Prince of Sicila, Mamillius, is a lovely young lad.
Leontes tries to convince King Polixenes to stay a week longer in their palace, but having already visited for NINE FREAKING MONTHS, Polixenes insists that he must be getting back to his kingdom, lest some shit go down without his knowing. Hermione, Leontes' very pregnant Queen, says everything is probably fine back in Bohemia, and though she knows he probably misses his son, she really wants him to stay on a little bit longer. She even says she'll make him her prisoner. Like, damn lady. Polixenes finally agrees to be her guest a few more days and not her prisoner. She happily begins to interrogate him about when he and her husband were young boys and he reports that
We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun,
And bleat the one at the other: what we changed
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd
That any did.
How cute.
Leontes is impressed that Hermione was able to charm his friend into staying when he himself was unable to do so. He adds that this is the second time she has spoken with great purpose. She wonders what was the first time and he says it was when she agreed to give her hand to him in marriage after THREE MONTHS of trying. They laugh and she gives her hand to Polixenes and Leontes totally loses it in an aside, saying that her behavior makes him suspicious of her fidelity. Whoa, bruh. Perhaps the gentleman doth protest too much?
Mamillius enters and his old dad catches him, saying "I' fecks!" which is not nearly as cool a curse word as I hoped, and wonders aloud if his son is even his son. His brain seems to seize up with his obsession:
Affection! thy intention stabs the centre:
Thou dost make possible things not so held,
Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?--
With what's unreal thou coactive art,
And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent
Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost,
And that beyond commission, and I find it,
And that to the infection of my brains
And hardening of my brows.
I can just imagine Mamillius giving his dad that classic teenager scrunched-up face and an eye-roll. Polixenes and Hermione return to his side and ask him if he's OK. He blurts out that he truly thinks Mamillius doesn't look a thing like him and must be fathered by someone else. He sends them all away so he can further dig himself into a hole:
There have been,
Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now;
And many a man there is, even at this present,
Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
That little thinks she has been sluiced in's absence
And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by
Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in't
Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd,
As mine, against their will. Should all despair
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none;
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike
Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,
From east, west, north and south: be it concluded,
No barricado for a belly; know't;
It will let in and out the enemy
With bag and baggage: many thousand on's
Have the disease, and feel't not.
One may very easily read this as Leontes' sexually jealousy of Hermione and not the more obvious alternative. Apparently, Sir Ken's stage production in 2015 took this route and he played Leontes as more resentful that he could no longer enjoy the bisexual youthful dalliances with Polixenes than actually angered by Hermione's alleged infidelity. He also notably played Iago in the 1995 Othello film a bit gay from the center of the Kinsey scale, and as I mentioned earlier, Leontes is playing both Iago and Othello in this scene. Coincidence? Perhaps. Hot? You bet. Who doesn't love a controversial Shakespeare interpretation portrayed by their favorite Sir?
Leontes pulls Camillo over and asks him if he sees what he sees, and Camillo says that though he may not be perfect, if he were to be negligent in his honesty to the King, he would fess up, but he honestly believes the Queen is free of taint and that he's never seen the King stoop so low. Leontes triples-down and swears he sees things between Hermione and Polixenes that don't exist. Camillo shakes his head and says that's bonkers. Leontes calls him a liar and asks him if he would make up such a thing without evidence:
Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,
To appoint myself in this vexation, sully
The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps,
Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son,
Who I do think is mine and love as mine,
Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this?
Could man so blench?
Camillo caves a little and says he will "fetch off" Polixenes, which Leontes takes as "kill" but Camillo really means as "bear off" or "rescue" but only under the condition that Leontes treat Hermione fairly and be kind to her. Leontes agrees and leaves him. Camillo frets about the whole sticky mess he's in and Polixenes passes by, wondering why everyone is in such an odd mood. Polixenes beseeches Camillo about the sudden change in the court's attitude toward him and Camillo reluctantly spills that he's been ordered to MURTHER him for touching the Queen "forbiddenly." Polixenes is disgusted. Camillo admits he has no idea what this is about "but I am sure 'tis safer to Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born." Camillo offers to spirit Polixenes away in secret and allow him to leave immediately, as was his original plan to return home.
ACT II
Hermione orders one of her waiting Ladies to play with Mamillius but he says he has outgrown such play and Hermione asks him to to tell her a story. He barely begins to weave his tale when Leontes and his Lords walk by. They are telling him of how Camillo had helped Polixenes escape. Leontes is sure his life is in danger and he has been "poisoned:"
There may be in the cup
A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge
Is not infected: but if one present
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
With violent hefts. I have drunk,
and seen the spider.
Leontes grabs Mamillius and sends him away so as not to be influenced by Hermione. He then cruelly accuses her of carrying Polixenes' child and has her arrested. Hermione elegantly pleads with the men to believe her:
There's some ill planet reigns:
I must be patient till the heavens look
With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,
I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew
Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have
That honourable grief lodged here which burns
Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,
With thoughts so qualified as your charities
Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
The king's will be perform'd!
One Lord dares to say he hopes Hermione gets acquitted and Antigonus agrees. Leontes tells them to shut up. Antigonus offers up his own daughters as a bet for the Queen's innocence and Leontes calls them both fools. He adds that he has sent some guys to Delphos to ask the Oracle to make a judgement on Hermione and Camillo. Everyone is glad for this.
Elsewhere, Paulina, Antigonus' wife, visits the prison and asks to be led to the Queen. The Jailer refuses and sends for her lady Emilia instead. She reports that the Queen gave birth and it's a healthy girl. Paulina curses the King's lunacy. Paulina offers to take the child to Leontes, hoping that the innocence of the babe will change Leontes' mind. The Jailer says he's not sure if he's allowed to let them do that. Paulina uses her wit to convince him that the child is not subject to the same rules as its mother.
Leontes is still pacing around, stewing about Hermione. A Servant comes in to say that Mamillius is sick over what has happened to his mother. Paulina begs to enter with the baby, saying she has "medicinal" words and Leontes gets pissed at Antigonus for not being able to control his own wife. She fights to enter and lays the baby down before him, saying it is his daughter. He insists she leave and she calls him mad so he calls her a traitor. Paulina shames Leontes as his own traitor:
Nor I, nor any
But one that's here, and that's himself, for he
The sacred honour of himself, his queen's,
His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander,
Whose sting is sharper than the sword's;
and will not--
For, as the case now stands, it is a curse
He cannot be compell'd to't--once remove
The root of his opinion, which is rotten
As ever oak or stone was sound.
Leontes cannot be convinced that the girl is his and Paulina points out how his marks are upon her:
Behold, my lords,
Although the print be little, the whole matter
And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip,
The trick of's frown, his forehead, nay, the valley,
The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek,
His smiles,
The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:
And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it
So like to him that got it, if thou hast
The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours
No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does,
Her children not her husband's!
Gotta love Paulina for having ovaries of steel through all this. I would have KILLED to have seen Dame Judi play this against Sir Branagh's Leontes. KILLLLLLED.
Leontes says he will burn Paulina and she says she doesn't give two shits, because "It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in't." She goes on to call him a tyrant and leaves. Leontes yells at Antigonus for setting his wife onto him thus, and Antigonus shakes his head. Leontes says he will bash the babe's brains in if it is not taken away. The other Lords swear Antigonus is innocent and he calls them all liars. Leontes asks Antigonus what he's willing to do to save the "brat's" life and Antigonus says he will do anything. Leontes softens a tiny bit and asks Antigonus to carry the child to some remote barren place and leave it there for fate to care for it. Antigonus knows this is a death sentence for the girl, but he swears to do Leontes' bidding. He leaves with the child and a Servant enters, saying that the Oracle has arrived. Leontes orders everyone prepare for the Oracle's judgement.
ACT III
Cleomines and Dion are on their way back from the temple of Delphi with some hot fresh oracle messaging to Leontes. They both hope Hermione will be pardoned.
Leontes gathers everyone to court for Hermione's trial. An Officer reads the indictment. Hermione pleads not guilty in the most dignified and respectful manner possible. Leontes continues to accuse her of birthing a bastard by Polixenes and Hermione says he only loved him as much as a Queen would a brother to her King. She says she is already punished enough and is still exhausted from giving birth, so she doesn't fear death.
More Officers come in with the sealed oracle message. They break the seals and read out that Hemione is blameless and pure and Leontes is a total dick. Leontes is beside himself. Hermione swoons. They drag her away as Leontes orders them to bring her back to life. Leontes begs Apollo for forgiveness. Paulina comes in and asks what horrible torture Leontes has in store for her. Then she breaks the news that Hermione is dead. Leontes wails and Paulina shames him. Leontes swears then and there that he will weep at the chapel every day to mourn and pay penance for killing his wife and son:
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 lie, and tears shed there
Shall be my recreation: so long as nature
Will bear up with this exercise, so long
I daily vow to use it. Come and lead me
Unto these sorrows.
This sudden change of heart would be downright comical in everyone but the most gifted actor. I get a delicious body shiver to think how Sir Ken would have portrayed this scene. Forgive me my momentary fangirlish lapses, y'all; I'm deep into my re-ignited infatuation lately because DAMNIT I need something good to focus on in this dumpster fire world.
Meanwhile, somewhere on Bohemia's sea-coast (anyone have a map?), Antigonus lands with Hermione's daughter. He comments on the blustery weather, as the heavens must be judging him for this act he has been sent to do. As he walks up the beach, a Mariner from the ship warns him about the "creatures of prey" known to live there. Antigonus speaks to the child as he lays her down, saying he saw her dead mother in a dream, in which she tells Antigonus that the baby's name is Perdita and that Antigonus will never see his wife Paulina again because of his deed. He leaves a scroll with the child and thunder crashes. Antigonus knows he is cursed for this:
Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I
To be by oath enjoin'd 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 clamour!
Well may I get aboard! This is the chase:
I am gone for ever.
[Exit, pursued by a bear]
At that very moment, a Shepherd enters and finds the baby, and he reads a fine parentage in her face and decides to rescue her. A Clown comes and points at a ship just off shore and at the mauled man on the sand:
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-dragoned
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.
Ugh, gross!
The Shepherd is aghast, but then he shows the Clown the changeling he found. They are sure this will bode well for them, for she is "fairy gold." Cute.
ACT IV
Time arrives as the Chorus for the remainder of this tale:
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...
He slides over sixteen years as if the audience where only in a sleep. He tells of how Leontes has been shut up in his palace with grief for this entire time and Florizel, Polixenes' son, has travelled to Bohemia where Perdita has been raised there as a shepherd's daughter, "grown in grace Equal with wond'ring." She's so lovely that Florizel is smitten with her (and he's a looker as well).
At the Bohemian palace, Camillo tells Polixenes that he hasn't been home for 15 years and that Leontes is asking for him now. Polixenes says Camillo has made himself so useful that Polixenes cannot live without him and besides, Sicilia is a "fatal country" and he shouldn't even speak of it. He also asks where the F his son has gone and Camillo says he hasn't seen him for days and the Prince has been neglecting his princely duties lately. Polixenes says he's heard that his son has in fact been hanging around a shepherd's house a lot. Camillo says he hears the Shepherd has a daughter, "the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage." The pair of snobs decide to disguise themselves and go investigate.
Somewhere in the Bohemian countryside, near the Shepherd's cottage, Autolycus, a likable rogue, sings a catchy tune as he strolls around:
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 a king.
The lark, that tirra-lyra chants,
With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay,
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
That's just effortlessly endearing stuff, Billy. Truly first-class.
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,
And bear the sow-skin budget,
Then my account I well may, give,
And in the stocks avouch it.
Autolycus tells the air that he worked for Prince Florizel once and "wore three-pile," aka fine velvet. But now he's "out of service" and his new business is stealing sheets people leave out on the hedges to dry. His only other vices are "die and drab"--gambling and women.
The Clown enters and calculates his father's sheep shearing prospects. Turns out they're pretty well-off, and he recites a shopping list of what his sister told him they need for the shearing festival. Autolycus grovels before the Clown and says he's been beaten and robbed. He acts like he's injured and picks the Clown's pocket in the process. When the Clown offers money, he refuses and when asked what knave robbed him, Autolycus describes himself. As he walks off, he notes that he will return for the festival, for that will offer many opportunities for theft. He sings as he goes:
Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Next comes a doozy of a scene that's 25% of the entire play.
It opens with starry-eyed Florizel lovingly complimenting Perdita on her costume for the party:
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.
Humble Perdita laughs at Florizel's overly kind words:
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 with a custom, I should blush
To see you so attired, sworn, I think,
To show myself a glass.
They continue on, flirting most adorably, with her hoping that Florizel's father doesn't catch them dressed so strangely and him shrugging it off, since they're in love and nothing else matters. Besides, Florizel says, the gods themselves have disguised themselves so many times, so what difference does it make if mere mortals do it?
Their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires
Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.
So pure, so perfect. These two are an ideal couple of young lovers.
Florizel says he is nothing without Perdita's love, and she should quit worrying about what Polixenes will think. He encourages her to get ready, as all the party guests are approaching. The Shepherd comes and reminisces about his wife's past festival duties. Perdita, as Flora, enthusiastically hands out flowers to all her guests, including the disguised King and Camillo, who are fairly allured by her beauty and personality. They discuss cross-breeding flowers, but they are at odds, since Perdita wants to keep their bloodlines pure and Polixenes says it makes a better stock to mix them. Perdita begins to allow her costume to "change her disposition" and she and Florizel flirt openly and adoringly:
What you do
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet.
I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing,
I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms,
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,
And own no other function: each your doing,
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deed,
That all your acts are queens.
Oh, Florizel, you sure know how to get to a lady's heart!
Witnessing this, Polixenes considers that this lowly girl isn't as base as he assumed. Camillo says she's the "queen of curds and cream."
A dance strikes up and everyone joins in, while Polixenes and the Shepherd watch from the sidelines. The Shepherd says that the man dancing with his daughter is "Doricles" and that he's definitely in love with this jewel of a girl. A Servant tells them that a pedlar has arrived and will sing their ears off and sell a shit-ton of rainbow colored-ribbons while he's at it. Of course, Autolycus is the man, and he comes in singing about his wares:
Lawn as white as driven snow;
Cyprus black as e'er was crow;
Gloves as sweet as damask roses;
Masks for faces and for noses;
Bugle bracelet, necklace amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber;
Golden quoifs and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears:
Pins and poking-sticks of steel,
What maids lack from head to heel:
Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy.
If Target itself were personified, I couldn't be more excited to shop right now.
The Clown asks for ballads to buy and Autolycus offers up several that are "true" and "merry" and "doleful" at the same time. Dorcas and Mopsa, a few local party-goers, start singing one the the ballads and the Clown says he'll buy some for both of them. The Servant announces that some dudes will dance for everyone. They do a "dance of twelve Satyrs."
Polixenes decides has seen enough, and he goes to Florizel and asks what he thinks of Perdita and the Prince declares that he loves her endlessly:
were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,
Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge
More than was ever man's, I would not prize them
Without her love
The Shepherd asks his daughter if she feels the same and she says "By th' pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his." The Shepherd takes their hands and says it's a bargain then, and he will give her to Florizel in marriage. Polixenes stops Florizel and asks what his father would think and Florizel says he doesn't care. Polixenes gets mad that he won't at least consult with his father. Polixenes reveals himself angrily:
Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base
To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir,
That thus affect'st a sheep-hook!
He goes on to threaten Florizel with disinheritance and storms away. Perdita is so heartbroken that she says she'd rather milk her ewes and weep than deal with this scandal. The Shepherd despairs and blames Perdita and Florizel for having "undone a man of fourscore years" and causing him such grief. Florizel wonders why his father reacted so and Camillo shakes his head and says "you know how your father is, dumbass" and Perdita says she told him so but Florizel says he is only "heir of my affection" and doesn't give half a crap about being a prince. Florizel holds Perdita at his side and tells Camillo he'll go to sea with her and land somewhere where they will be free and happy. Camillo suggests Sicilia, where he can present himself to Leontes as ambassadors from Bohemia and the King will surely grant them marriage. Camillo will write a letter for Leontes to seal the deal. Florizel goes for it and Camillo pulls him aside to give him the deets.
Autolycus jumps in, laughing his ass off because he conned everyone into buying all his cheap wares while he simultaneously picked their pockets and he would've gotten everyone's purse had Polixenes not burst in with his father/son problems.
Camillo comes back in with Florizel and Perdita, telling him everything is sorted. Camillo sees Autolycus and asks that he swap clothes with Florizel and that Perdita hide her identity as well. They set off for the seaside while Camillo plans to tell Polixenes about their escape, therefore forcing him to head to Bohemia, just as Camillo wants. Autolycus is left behind to consider the plot that just thickened before him.
The Shepherd comes back with his son, who is trying to convince him to tell the truth to the King about Perdita's origins by showing him everything that was in the bundle in which she was wrapped. Autolycus asks them where they're headed and they say they're on their way to the palace. Autolycus says he is a courtier "cap-a-pe", obviously, now that he wears Florizel's fancy kit. So therefore, he can help them out. Because, you know, the King plans to torture the Shepherd and the Clown and Autolycus could put in a good word to the King, who is not at the palace but on a ship to purge his grief for a while. They say they will pay him dearly for this service so they don't get "flay'd alive." Autolycus, left alone for a moment, admits that his true motivation in doing this is to get in good with his old master Florizel by bringing them to him.
ACT V
In Leontes' palace, the oracle guys Cleomines and Dion speak with the King and Paulina about the last sixteen years' stretch of sorrow Leontes has been nursing. They tell him that he's done plenty of penitence but Leontes says he will never forgive himself. Paulina cuts to the quick and accuses the oracle dudes of simply wishing Leontes would get married again, and they argue that the fact that he's unmarried puts the state in danger. Paulina says no one is worthy of replacing Hermione and Leontes will choose an heir the way Alexander the Great did. Leontes says he wishes he had only listened to her counsel from the start. She tells him he will not marry until his first queen draws breath. Ok, so never then. Damn.
A servant announces that the Prince Florizel has arrived and wishes an audience with the King. He says the Prince's train is small, but includes "the most peerless piece of earth... That e'er the sun shone bright on." Leontes' eyebrow pops up. He allows him to enter. The moment he sees Florizel, he comments on how much he looks like his father and immediately calls Perdita a "goddess." He wishes Polixenes could have been there. Florizel says he bring greetings from his father, who is too sick to visit himself. Leontes says he regrets having ever spurned Polixenes.
A Lord enters to spill the tea that Florizel comes from his father with "his dignity and duty both cast off" with this shepherd's daughter. He adds that Polixenes is in Bohemia. Florizel accuses Camillo of betraying him to his father. Perdita speaks then, worried that they will never be married now that they've been found. Florizel answers Leontes' inquiry about her parentage by saying she is the daughter of a king "when once she is my wife." Leontes says he's sorry that Florizel has broken his ties to his father. Florizel comforts Perdita:
Dear, look up:
Though Fortune, visible an enemy,
Should chase us with my father, power no jot
Hath she to change our loves.
*Swoon*
Florizel asks Leontes to defend them to Polixenes and he agrees. Paulina says Leontes' "eye hath too much youth in't." Leontes insists he will help.
Outside the palace, Autolycus, still dressed to the nines, meets a Gentleman who witnessed quite a scene within the King's chambers. He goes on to describe the un-scene during which Perdita's identity was revealed by the Shepherd. Another Gentleman enters with more details. He says that the prophecy is fulfilled and the daughter of the King is indeed found. A third Gentleman comes and confirms the truth of it all, and how Perdita is definitely Hermione's daughter, because they look alike and Antigonus' scroll was found with her, and she was wearing a jewel that was Hermione's and everything. He explains how the two Kings met again after all these years and how they wept to embrace one another again. Everyone was joyful at all this, and full of forgiveness. Paulina reacted with two hearts over the fate of Antigonus and the discovery of Perdita. And the princess, upon hearing of her mother's passing, wept with so much purity of heart that the guy felt his "marble there changed color." The Gentleman says "The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes." Oh and BTW, Paulina commissioned the famous artist Julio Romano to create a perfect Hermione replica in sculpture and they're about to unveil it so let's go check that shit out!
Autolycus is left behind to shrug at how his ruse turned out: he tried to tell Florizel what was up, but the Prince and Princess got sea-sick so he couldn't reveal the truth he wanted to tell. Oh well. The Shepherd and his son show up, dressed like courtiers, because Florizel and the King treated them like family as soon as they told the good news about Perdita. Autolycus promises to them that he will mend his ways from now on and they accept. They all leave to see the new sculpture.
Everybody gathers to see Paulina unveil the statue:
As she lived peerless,
So her dead likeness, I do well believe,
Excels whatever yet you look'd upon
Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it
Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare
To see the life as lively mock'd as ever
Still sleep mock'd death: behold, and say 'tis well.
[PAULINA draws a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE standing like a statue]
I like your silence, it the more shows off
Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege,
Comes it not something near?
Leontes is so taken with the lifelike quality of the statue that he swears it is her, except more wrinkled. Paulina says the artist did this on purpose to show what she would look like now if she had lived. Perdita is so moved that she kneels and holds her hand to the statue, but Paulina says the paint is not yet dry, so they must not touch it. She says she will hide it if it causes too much grief but the King begs her not to, for "No settled senses of the world can match The pleasure of that madness... Let't alone." He and Polixenes swear she appears to be alive. Leontes goes to kiss her, but Paulina prevents him, saying she can do some magic as long as they don't think her wicked. She plays some music and miraculously, Hermione steps down from the pedestal. As she takes Leontes' hand, he says
O, she's warm!
If this be magic, let it be an art
Lawful as eating.
It's truly breathtaking stuff. Moving as hell. I'm not crying, it's just raining on my face.
Paulina says that if she had simply told them that Hermione had lived, they would have hooted at the claim. She turns to Perdita and asks her to kneel for her mother. Hermione praises the gods above:
You gods, look down
And from your sacred vials pour your graces
Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine own.
Where hast thou been preserved? where lived? how found
Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear that I,
Knowing by Paulina that the oracle
Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved
Myself to see the issue.
Paulina is a clever bitch. I love her. She wishes everyone luck and says she will go off and lament the loss of her husband. Leontes insists that she marry Camillo, whom he believes would be a perfect match for her, and he blesses them.
Thus we have a truly lovely ending that, despite the whole statue-coming-to-life thing, doesn't in the least feel ridiculous or contrived. Shakespeare has nailed this happy ending, and for once it doesn't feel sarcastic. This play is a fucking masterpiece. I want to marry it.
So needless to say, the old BBC production I watched was the usual level of adequate, with oddball production design that nonetheless caught the eye. The courtly fashion appeared to be vaguely Eastern European and the sets were some combination of geometric minimalism and hippie chic. It presented the text just fine, and the characters, just by virtue of being so well-written, were enjoyable and lovely. Again, I would MURTHER for the chance to see Sir Ken's production in some parallel universe where I have both the geographical and monetary luck to attend a staging. UGH how perfect it must have been!
We're heading off to an island next week, one "full of noises, sounds, and sweet airs," as well as creatures of trippy magic and doom. Yes, it's The Tempest, which is astonishingly well-known as Shakespeare's last play, but it most certainly is not. Like, Hello. Henry VIII? Anyone? Yeah, no, you're right, no one wants to remember that one. It was responsible for literally burning down The Globe. And The Two Noble Kinsmen was discovered later. They were both half-assed collabs, so I get it. But we're doing them anyway!