Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,
’Tis past enduring.
Take the boy away from me: he disturbs me so much, it is becoming unbearable.
Someone take this kid off my hands, please. He's driving me crazy.
take the boy he's killing me
The First Lady speaks in the breezy register of court small talk — teasing Mamillius about his mother's pregnancy with the easy familiarity of someone who has served the queen for years. Watch for how her warmth in this opening scene throws the cold violence of the arrest into starker relief.
Come, my gracious lord,
Shall I be your playfellow?
Come here, my lord, will you be willing to play alongside me?
Come on over, my lord, will you play with me?
come play
No, I’ll none of you.
No, I want none of you.
Nope, I don't want any of you.
nah none of u
Why, my sweet lord?
What is the reason for that preference, my sweet lord?
Why do you feel that way?
but y tho?
You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if
I were a baby still. I love you better.
You'll kiss me too hard and speak to me as though I were still a baby. I prefer someone else.
You kiss too hard and treat me like I'm still a baby. I like someone else better.
you kiss too hard and treat me like a baby i like her better
The Second Lady is the straight half of a comedy duo with the First Lady, her comments just a beat behind. Watch for how she and the First Lady create the texture of normal courtly life that Leontes will destroy.
And why so, my lord?
And what is your reasoning for that choice, my lord?
And what makes you feel that way?
but y her specifically?
Not for because
Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say,
Become some women best, so that there be not
Too much hair there, but in a semicircle
Or a half-moon made with a pen.
Not because your eyebrows are darker; though dark eyebrows do look good on some women, as long as there is not too much hair there, but in a semicircle or a half-moon drawn with a pen.
Not because your eyebrows are darker. Dark eyebrows can look good on women, as long as they're not too thick—more like a semicircle, like someone drew a half-moon with a pen.
not cuz ur brows r darker dark brows look good if they're thin like a half-moon drawn w a pen
Who taught this?
Who taught this?
Who taught this?
who taught this?
I learn’d it out of women’s faces. Pray now,
What colour are your eyebrows?
I learned it by studying women's faces. Tell me now, what color are your eyebrows?
I learned that from looking at women's faces. So what color are yours?
learned it from looking @ women what color r urs?
Blue, my lord.
Blue, my lord.
They're blue, my lord.
blue
Nay, that’s a mock. I have seen a lady’s nose
That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.
No, that is a joke. I have seen a woman's nose that was blue, but not her eyebrows.
No way, you're just messing with me. I've seen women with blue noses, but never blue eyebrows.
ur joking lol i've seen blue noses not eyebrows
Mamillius begins to tell his tale — 'there was a man dwelt by a churchyard' — and is never allowed to finish it. Shakespeare cuts him off mid-sentence with the entrance of Leontes and never returns to it. This is not an accident. The boy with a tale about sprites and ghosts near a churchyard is himself going to become a ghost story — a life cut short, mourned by everyone who encounters him. The title of the play, in effect, comes from a child whose story ends before it begins. Scholars have noted that Mamillius's unfinished narrative mirrors the play's own structure: the first half is a dead-end winter story, and only in the second half, sixteen years later, do we get resolution. The story Mamillius was telling may never be told — but the play we're watching is the ghost story he meant to tell: a man who dwelt by a churchyard, where his own son is eventually buried.
Hark ye,
The queen your mother rounds apace. We shall
Present our services to a fine new prince
One of these days, and then you’d wanton with us,
If we would have you.
Listen, the queen your mother is getting bigger by the day. We will present our services soon to a fine new prince one of these days, and then you would want to play with us, if we would let you.
Listen up, the queen—your mom—is really getting round these days. Soon we'll have a beautiful new prince, and then you'll want to play with us, if we'll have you.
ur mom's getting rly big soon there'll be a new prince u'll wanna play w us then
She is spread of late
Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her!
She has expanded considerably of late into a splendid fullness: may fortune smile on her!
She's really rounded out recently with that beautiful pregnancy glow: may everything turn out well for her!
she's gotten beautiful & round hope good things come to her
What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now
I am for you again. Pray you sit by us,
And tell ’s a tale.
What kind of talk is this? Come, sir, now I want you back here. Please sit next to us and tell us a story.
What's all this talk? Come on, sit back down here with me. Please sit next to me and tell me a story.
come back here sit w me tell me a story
Merry or sad shall’t be?
Should it be a happy one or a sad one?
Do you want a happy story or a sad one?
happy or sad?
As merry as you will.
As happy as you choose.
Whatever you feel like making it happy.
whatever u want
A sad tale’s best for winter. I have one
Of sprites and goblins.
A sad story works best for winter. I have one about spirits and ghosts.
Sad stories are perfect for winter. I have one about ghosts and spirits.
sad stories r best for winter i got one about ghosts
Let’s have that, good sir.
Come on, sit down. Come on, and do your best
To fright me with your sprites: you’re powerful at it.
Let us hear it, good sir. Come and sit down. Come now, and do your best to frighten me with your spirits: you are skilled at it.
Tell us that one, my lord. Come sit down. Go on, do your best to scare me with those ghosts. You're good at it.
let's hear it come sit try to scare me good
There was a man,—
In the beginning of my tale, there existed a certain man—
So there was this guy—
ok so like there's this guy
Nay, come, sit down, then on.
Come on, sit down and go on.
Sit down and keep going.
sit & keep going
Dwelt by a churchyard. I will tell it softly,
Yond crickets shall not hear it.
Who lived by a churchyard. I will tell it quietly, so the crickets over there will not hear it.
who lived next to a graveyard. I'll tell it quietly, so those crickets won't hear it.
lived by a graveyard i'll whisper so crickets don't hear
Come on then,
And give’t me in mine ear.
Come now, and tell it to me in a whisper.
Go ahead, whisper it in my ear.
whisper it in my ear
When falsely accused, most of us imagine we'd be outraged, weeping, perhaps screaming. Hermione does none of this. Her response to public disgrace is studied composure: she doesn't cry (and explicitly notes the lack of tears), she asks to be judged fairly, she converts her walk to prison into an act of moral agency. This isn't coldness — it's strategy. In a court where the king has made his verdict in advance, hysteria would only confirm suspicion. Dignity says: I have nothing to fear from scrutiny. 'This action I now go on / Is for my better grace' — she turns imprisonment into a spiritual exercise. The tragedy is that Hermione's composure is used against her: Leontes, unhinged, reads her calm as further proof of wickedness. A guilty woman would throw herself on his mercy; her refusal to do so proves, to him, she has none to ask for. Shakespeare uses Hermione's dignity to expose the total closure of Leontes's reasoning: there is no possible behavior that would count as evidence of innocence.
Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him?
Was he met there? With all his attendants? Camillo with him?
Did someone see them? His whole entourage? Camillo too?
anyone see them? camillo with them?
The First Lord speaks in the measured language of a courtier trying to thread an impossible needle — defending what he knows to be right without triggering the king's wrath. Watch for how he escalates from gentle suggestion to outright defiance as Leontes's cruelty becomes undeniable.
Behind the tuft of pines I met them, never
Saw I men scour so on their way: I ey’d them
Even to their ships.
Behind the cluster of pine trees I encountered them, never have I seen men move so quickly on their way: I watched them all the way until they reached their ships.
I saw them behind those pine trees, moving like I've never seen before. I watched them the whole way until they got to their ships.
saw them behind pines moving crazy fast watched til they got to ships
How blest am I
In my just censure, in my true opinion!
Alack, for lesser knowledge! How accurs’d
In being so blest! 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
Th’ 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.
Camillo was his help in this, his pander.
There is a plot against my life, my crown;
All’s true that is mistrusted. That false villain
Whom I employ’d, was pre-employ’d by him.
He has discover’d my design, and I
Remain a pinch’d thing; yea, a very trick
For them to play at will. How came the posterns
So easily open?
How fortunate I am with my accurate judgment, in my true perception! It is a shame there is not more evidence! How cursed I am in being so fortunate! There may be in the cup a spider soaking, and one may drink, leave, and yet suffer no poison, because the person does not know it is there; but if someone shows the hated creature to his eye, makes clear how he has drunk it, he gags, his sides heave with violent retching. I have drunk, and seen the spider. Camillo helped him do this, was his pimp. There is a conspiracy against my life, my crown; everything suspected is true. That false servant whom I employed was already employed by him. He has revealed my plan, and I am left as a toy; yes, a mere puppet for them to play with. How could the gates open so easily?
So I was right. My gut instinct was correct! What a terrible gift that is. It's like this: you're drinking from a cup with a dead spider in it, and you don't know it, so it doesn't hurt you. But if someone tells you there's a spider in there, shows it to you, suddenly you gag, you heave, you're disgusted. I drank, and I saw the spider. Camillo helped him. He was his accomplice. There's a plot against me and the crown. It's all real. Camillo, the guy I trusted? He was already working for him. He revealed my plan. Now I'm just a toy for them to play with. How did those gates open? Who let them?
i was right about everything i'm like the guy w the spider in his drink now i see it camillo was against me the whole time i'm just a toy for them now how did gates open??
By his great authority,
Which often hath no less prevail’d than so
On your command.
Because of his great power, which has often had as much influence as your command.
Because he had the authority— his power carried about as much weight as your orders.
his authority was huge almost as much as urs
I know’t too well.
Give me the boy. I am glad you did not nurse him.
Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you
Have too much blood in him.
I know that very well. Give me the boy. I am grateful you did not raise him. Even though he shows some of my features, still you have put too much of your blood into him.
Yeah, I know that. Give me the boy. I'm glad you didn't nurse him. He looks a bit like me, sure, but you've put too much of yourself into him.
i know that already give me the boy glad u didn't raise him u put too much of urself in him
What is this? sport?
What is this? A game?
What's this about? Are you joking?
what is this?
Bear the boy hence, he shall not come about her,
Away with him, and let her sport herself
With that she’s big with; for ’tis Polixenes
Has made thee swell thus.
Take the boy away, he will not be near her, away with him, and let her amuse herself with that which she is pregnant with; because it is Polixenes who has made you swell like this.
Get the boy out of here, keep him away from her. Get him out, and let her play with what she's carrying inside her, because it's Polixenes who got you like this.
take boy away let her play w what she's carrying polixenes got her pregnant
But I’d say he had not,
And I’ll be sworn you would believe my saying,
Howe’er you learn th’ nayward.
But I would say he did not, and I swear you would believe what I say, however you learn the opposite.
But I could swear he didn't, and you'd believe me, no matter what you think you know.
i could swear he didn't u'd believe me no matter what
You, my lords,
Look on her, mark her well. Be but about
To say, “she is a goodly lady,” and
The justice of your hearts will thereto add
“’Tis pity she’s not honest, honourable”:
Praise her but for this her without-door form,
Which on my faith deserves high speech, and straight
The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands
That calumny doth use—O, I am out,
That mercy does; for calumny will sear
Virtue itself—these shrugs, these hum’s, and ha’s,
When you have said “she’s goodly,” come between,
Ere you can say “she’s honest”: but be it known,
From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,
She’s an adultress!
You, my lords, look at her, pay attention to her well. Simply start to say, "She is a beautiful woman," and the rightness of your hearts will naturally add "It is a shame she is not honest, honorable": praise her only for this appearance of hers, which in my opinion deserves great praise, and immediately the shrug, the hum or the huh, these small marks that slander uses—wait, I am wrong— those are the marks that compassion uses; for slander will damage Virtue itself—these shrugs, these hums and huhs, when you have said "she is beautiful," come in between, before you can say "she is honest": but understand this clearly, from someone who has the most reason to grieve over it, she is an adultress!
Lords, look at her carefully. Listen to this: if you just say, "She's beautiful," your conscience will add, "Too bad she's not an honest woman." You praise her looks, and by rights they deserve praise, but then these little gestures come— the shrug, the hum, the condescending sounds—these marks of gossip. Wait, I'm wrong—these are marks of pity; gossip damages Virtue itself. These shrugs, these sounds, they interrupt you right between "she's beautiful" and "she's honorable." But listen: I have the most reason to be upset about this, and I'm telling you, she is an adultress!
look at her say she's beautiful they'll say 'shame she's not honest' those little gestures those sounds they happen when gossip spreads they ruin virtue and she's an adultress!
Should a villain say so,
The most replenish’d villain in the world,
He were as much more villain: you, my lord,
Do but mistake.
If a villain said so, the most wicked villain in the world, he would only be more wicked: you, my lord, are simply mistaken.
If a villain said that, the worst villain alive, he'd just be proving he's wicked. You, my lord, are simply wrong.
if a villain said that he'd b proving he's evil u r just wrong
You have mistook, my lady,
Polixenes for Leontes. O thou thing,
Which I’ll not call a creature of thy place,
Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,
Should a like language use to all degrees,
And mannerly distinguishment leave out
Betwixt the prince and beggar. I have said
She’s an adultress; I have said with whom:
More, she’s a traitor, and Camillo is
A federary with her; and one that knows
What she should shame to know herself
But with her most vile principal, that she’s
A bed-swerver, even as bad as those
That vulgars give bold’st titles; ay, and privy
To this their late escape.
You have made a mistake, my lady, confusing Polixenes with Leontes. You, that thing, whom I will not call a person of your station, for fear that barbarism, using me as the example, should use the same language with everyone of every rank, and remove all proper distinction between the prince and the beggar. I have said she is an adultress; I have said with whom: furthermore, she is a traitor, and Camillo is a conspirator with her; and one that knows what she should be ashamed to know about herself except from her most shameful partner, that she is one who violates her marriage, as wicked as those that common people give the boldest insults to; yes, and complicit in their recent escape.
You've confused Polixenes with Leontes. You—and I won't call you a person of your rank, because if I use that language, others might too, and we'd lose all respect between prince and pauper. Here's what I'm saying: she is an adultress. With Polixenes. More than that, she is a traitor. Camillo is a co-conspirator with her. He knows things she should only know to be ashamed of—dirty things— things only her lover would know. She's a cheater, just as bad as the worst women people know about. And she helped them escape.
she's an adultress w polixenes she's a traitor camillo's in on it she's a cheater & helped them escape
Antigonus's speech about gelding his daughters is one of the strangest passages in the play and easy to misread as misogynist raving. But its function is opposite: it's the most extreme expression of absolute certainty about Hermione's innocence in the entire scene. Antigonus is saying: if Hermione is capable of this betrayal, then female loyalty doesn't exist, and I'll act accordingly — but she isn't, so I won't need to. The grotesquerie is in proportion to his conviction. He's offering a bet: if I'm wrong about Hermione, here's what I'll forfeit. The logic is the logic of someone who cannot conceive of being wrong. What makes this a deep structural irony is that Antigonus will later be sent to abandon Perdita in the wilderness — and will die for it. The man who staked his daughters' futures on Hermione's innocence ends up paying with his own life for Leontes's jealousy. The play remembers the wager.
No, by my life,
Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,
When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that
You thus have publish’d me! Gentle my lord,
You scarce can right me throughly then, to say
You did mistake.
No, by my life, I was not complicit in any of this. How this will hurt you when you come to understand truly that you have publicly accused me! Dear my lord, you can barely make amends afterward, even to say that you were mistaken.
No, I swear by my life, I wasn't part of any of this. You're going to feel terrible when you realize the truth, that you've publicly accused me! My lord, even if you apologize later, you can't undo it, you can't just say you were wrong.
i swear i wasn't part of this u will regret this when u find out the truth u can't take this back
No. If I mistake
In those foundations which I build upon,
The centre is not big enough to bear
A school-boy’s top. Away with her to prison!
He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty
But that he speaks.
No. If I am mistaken about the facts on which I build my conclusions, the foundation is not substantial enough to hold even a schoolboy's spinning top. Away with her to prison! Whoever speaks on her behalf is already guilty by simply speaking.
No. If I'm wrong about what I believe is true, my whole foundation crumbles—I couldn't even support a kid's toy top. Take her to prison! Anyone who defends her is already guilty for opening their mouth.
if i'm wrong everything falls apart take her to prison ayone defending her is guilty
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 lodg’d 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.
There is some unlucky influence affecting things: I must wait patiently until heaven shows a more favorable aspect toward me. Dear lords, I am not prone to weeping, as our gender commonly is; the lack of such tears perhaps will dry your compassion. But I have honest suffering lodged here which burns worse than tears could express: I beg you all, my lords, with feelings as guided by your charitable nature shall best teach you, judge me fairly; and so let the king's orders be carried out.
Something unlucky is happening. I have to wait for heaven to turn in my favor. Gentlemen, I don't cry easily like most women do; maybe that dryness will make you care less. But I have an honest pain inside me that burns worse than any tears could show. I'm asking you all, my lords, use your good hearts to judge me fairly, and then let what the king wants be done.
unlucky times i'm waiting for better days i don't cry like most women but i hurt worse than tears judge me fairly pls then do what he says
Shall I be heard?
Should I be heard?
Can I speak?
can i say something?
Who is’t that goes with me? Beseech your highness
My women may be with me, for you see
My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools;
There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress
Has deserv’d prison, then abound in tears
As I come out: this action I now go on
Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord:
I never wish’d to see you sorry; now
I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave.
Who will come with me? I beg your highness, let my women be with me, because you see my situation requires it. Do not weep, good people; there is no reason: when you learn that your mistress deserved prison, then fill yourselves with tears as I depart: this action I now undertake is for my better honor. Goodbye, my lord: I never wanted to see you sorrowful; now I believe I will. My women, come; you have my permission.
Who's coming with me? Please, your highness, let my ladies stay with me, you can see I need them. Don't cry, ladies; there's no reason to yet. When you find out your mistress deserved prison, then cry as I go. But doing this now—it's the right thing for me. Goodbye, my lord: I never wanted to see you sad; but now I think I will. Come, ladies; you're dismissed.
let my ladies come w me don't cry now cry when u know i deserved it i'm doing the right thing goodbye my lord i thought i wouldn't want this but maybe i will
Go, do our bidding. Hence!
Go, do what I command. Get out!
Go! Do what I say. Get out of here!
go! now!
Beseech your highness, call the queen again.
I beg your highness, call the queen back.
Please, your highness, call her back.
call her back pls
Antigonus speaks bluntly — he lacks the courtier's softening instinct, reaching for analogies that might work on a reasonable man rather than careful diplomatic phrasing. Watch for how his very directness (including the extraordinary speech about his daughters) signals that he is arguing with someone who has lost their grip on reason.
Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice
Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer,
Yourself, your queen, your son.
Be certain about what you are doing, sir, so that your justice does not become violence, in which three great people suffer, yourself, your queen, and your son.
Be absolutely sure about what you're doing, because this could become cruel, and if it does, three people will suffer: you, your queen, your son.
be sure this could hurt u & ur family three people suffer if ur wrong
For her, my lord,
I dare my life lay down, and will do’t, sir,
Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless
I’ th’ eyes of heaven and to you—I mean
In this which you accuse her.
As for her, my lord, I would stake my life on it, and I will, if you would accept that as proof, that the queen is spotless in the eyes of heaven and to you—I mean regarding what you accuse her of.
As for her, my lord, I'd bet my life on her, and I mean it, if my life is worth anything to you—the queen is innocent in God's eyes and in yours, at least regarding what you're saying she did.
i'd bet my life on her she's innocent in god's eyes & urs
If it prove
She’s otherwise, I’ll keep my stables where
I lodge my wife; I’ll go in couples with her;
Than when I feel and see her no further trust her.
For every inch of woman in the world,
Ay, every dram of woman’s flesh, is false,
If she be.
If she proves unfaithful, I'll house my wife in the stables; I'll go everywhere with her as a pair, never trust her again. For if she is disloyal, then every last bit of womankind is false.
If she's cheating on you, I'd put my wife in the stables, never trust her, and stay glued to her side constantly. It means all women are liars.
if she's cheating all women are liars i'd lock my wife up and never trust again
Hold your peaces.
Be quiet
Quiet down
stop
There's something deeply revealing about the way Leontes announces the oracle mission. He doesn't say 'I've sent to Apollo to find out the truth.' He says he's already satisfied, the oracle is just for 'the minds of others' — those whose 'ignorant credulity will not come up to th' truth.' This is a man using the apparatus of truth-seeking while being absolutely closed to the results. He wants validation, not information. The tragic irony is that the oracle will give him both — clear, unambiguous divine word that Hermione is chaste, Polixenes is blameless, Camillo a true subject — and he will immediately reject it as false. The oracle functions in this play as Shakespeare's most elegant trap for the paranoid mind: when the divine itself disagrees with you and your response is 'there is no truth at all i' th' oracle,' you have crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed with words. Only catastrophe will reach you.
Good my lord,—
My lord—
Sir—
sir—
It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:
You are abus’d, and by some putter-on
That will be damn’d for’t: would I knew the villain,
I would land-damn him. Be she honour-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 geld ’em all; fourteen they shall not see,
To bring false generations: they are co-heirs,
And I had rather glib myself than they
Should not produce fair issue.
It is for your sake we speak, not for ourselves: you are deceived, and by some manipulator who will be damned for it: I wish I knew who the guilty party is, I would mark him for damnation. Even if she has some flaw in her honor, I have three daughters; the oldest is eleven; the second and third, nine and some five; if this is true, they will pay for it. On my honor, I will make sure they never have children; fourteen they will not reach, to bear false children: they are my heirs, and I would rather castrate myself than they should not produce legitimate children.
We're speaking for you, not ourselves. You're being manipulated by someone who'll be damned for it. I wish I knew who. But here's what I'm thinking: I have three daughters. The oldest is eleven, the others nine and five. If your suspicion is right, they'll suffer. On my word, if she's guilty, I'll make sure mine never have kids. They won't even reach fourteen before I stop that from happening. They're my heirs, and I'd castrate myself before I'd let them produce children if women are really like this.
we're trying to help u u r being manipulated if she's guilty my daughters r doomed all women r doomed i'd ruin my own children b4 that
Cease; no more.
You smell this business with a sense as cold
As is a dead man’s nose: but I do see’t and feel’t,
As you feel doing thus; and see withal
The instruments that feel.
Stop; no more. You perceive this matter with a sense as numb as a dead man's nose: but I do see it and feel it, the way you feel doing this; and I also see the very organs that feel.
Stop it. You're sensing this with no more feeling than a corpse has. But I see it and feel it, the same way you're feeling right now as you talk, and I can see the exact evidence of it.
u don't feel anything like a dead man but i see & feel everything the evidence is right there
If it be so,
We need no grave to bury honesty.
There’s not a grain of it the face to sweeten
Of the whole dungy earth.
If that is so, we need no grave to bury honesty. There is not even a hint of it left on the face of the whole filthy earth.
If that's true, honesty doesn't deserve to be buried—there's nothing left of it. There's not a trace of it anywhere in the world.
if that's true honesty's dead none left
What! Lack I credit?
What! Do I lack credibility?
What! Don't you believe me?
don't u believe me?
I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,
Upon this ground: and more it would content me
To have her honour true than your suspicion,
Be blam’d for’t how you might.
I would rather lose my credibility than you lose yours, my lord, on this matter: and more than that, it would please me more to have her honor be true than your suspicion, no matter how you might be blamed for it.
I'd rather look bad than you, my lord, about this matter. And honestly, I'd rather her honor be real than have you right, whatever people might say about you.
i'd rather u trust me than u be right i'd rather she's innocent
Why, what need we
Commune with you of this, but rather follow
Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative
Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness
Imparts this; which, if you, or stupified
Or seeming so in skill, cannot or will not
Relish a truth, like us, inform yourselves
We need no more of your advice: the matter,
The loss, the gain, the ord’ring on’t, is all
Properly ours.
Why, what need do we have to consult with you about this, when we can simply follow our forceful instinct? Our royal position does not require your counsel, but our natural decency offers this; which, if you, either stupefied or pretending to be in your wisdom, cannot or will not understand a truth the way I do, inform yourselves we need no more of your advice: the matter, the loss, the gain, the arrangement of it, is all ours to control.
Why should we even talk to you about this when I can just trust my gut? My position as king doesn't need your input, but I'm being gracious and offering it. If you're too dull or pretending to be wise and can't understand the truth like I do, then know this: we don't need any more of your advice. This whole situation— the losses, the gains, how to handle it— it's entirely mine to manage.
don't need u telling me what to do i'm king i'm being generous even consulting u either don't get it or won't i got this
And I wish, my liege,
You had only in your silent judgement tried it,
Without more overture.
And I wish, my liege, you had judged this only in your private mind, without telling anyone else.
Your Majesty, I wish you'd kept this between yourself, without making it public.
wish u kept this private
How could that be?
Either thou art most ignorant by age,
Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo’s flight,
Added to their familiarity,
(Which was as gross as ever touch’d conjecture,
That lack’d sight only, nought for approbation
But only seeing, all other circumstances
Made up to th’ deed) doth push on this proceeding.
Yet, for a greater confirmation
(For in an act of this importance, ’twere
Most piteous to be wild), I have dispatch’d in post
To sacred Delphos, to Apollo’s temple,
Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know
Of stuff’d sufficiency: now from the oracle
They will bring all, whose spiritual counsel had,
Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?
How could that be? Either you are extremely ignorant from old age, or you were born a fool. Camillo's flight, added to their close association, (which was as obvious as any circumstantial evidence could be, that lacked only direct proof, nothing more for confirmation than simply seeing them together, all other circumstances added up to the deed) drives this matter forward. Yet, for greater certainty (because in a matter of this importance, it would be most terrible to act rashly), I have sent quickly to sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know to be well qualified: now from the oracle they will bring all; after receiving its spiritual guidance, it will stop or drive forward my course. Have I done well?
How could I do that? Either you're too old to understand, or you were born an idiot. Think about it: Camillo ran away. He was always with them. The connection was so obvious—clear as day— it just needed someone to see it, and all the other pieces fit together perfectly to prove the crime. That's what drives me. But I'm being careful—this is too serious for rash action. So I sent Cleomenes and Dion to Apollo's temple at Delphos. You know them, they're reliable. The oracle will tell us everything. I'll follow its guidance. What do you think? Was that the right call?
how could i keep quiet? camillo ran they were always together evidence is everywhere but i sent to oracle for confirmation was that right?
Well done, my lord.
You have acted wisely and correctly, my lord.
That's a smart decision, sir.
wise move
Though I am satisfied, and need no more
Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
Give rest to the minds of others, such as he
Whose ignorant credulity will not
Come up to th’ truth. So have we thought it good
From our free person she should be confin’d,
Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence
Be left her to perform. Come, follow us;
We are to speak in public; for this business
Will raise us all.
Although I am convinced and need no more than what I already know, the oracle will still give peace of mind to the minds of others, such as those whose trusting nature will not accept the truth. So I have thought it good to keep her confined away from general society, so that the treachery of the two who fled cannot be carried out by her. Come, follow us; we must speak in public; because this matter will affect everyone.
I'm already convinced—I don't need anything else—but the oracle will help people who aren't as smart, people whose stubborn faith won't accept the truth. So I've decided to keep her locked up, so those two traitors who escaped can't use her for anything else. Come on, let's go. We need to make a public statement; this affects everyone in the kingdom.
i'm already convinced but oracle helps the skeptics keeping her locked up so escaped traitors can't use her gotta tell public everyone's affected
[_Aside._] To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth were known.
To laughter, as I see it, if the true facts were revealed.
To laughter, if you ask me, if the real truth came out.
it'd be laughable if the truth came out
The Reckoning
The contrast is brutal: we open on warmth and childhood innocence — a pregnant queen, a witty little boy, ladies laughing — and within sixty lines Leontes has torn it all apart. Hermione's response is extraordinary: not hysteria but dignity, turning even her imprisonment into a kind of moral authority. The audience watches her walk to prison knowing she is innocent, and the horror isn't just what Leontes does — it's that everyone can see he is wrong and cannot stop him.
If this happened today…
Imagine a CEO who, after convincing himself his CFO and a board member are conspiring against him, storms into a company all-hands meeting where his visibly pregnant wife is doing a Q&A with junior staff, publicly fires her on the spot, accuses her of fraud, and has security escort her out — while the other executives stand around saying 'sir, please reconsider' and getting nowhere. The wife, nine months along, tells the room not to cry for her and that she fully expects to be vindicated. The CEO has already sent an external auditor to investigate. The auditor will not find what he expects.