This sessions (to our great grief we pronounce)
Even pushes ’gainst our heart: the party tried
The daughter of a king, our wife, and one
Of us too much belov’d. Let us be clear’d
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
Proceed in justice, which shall have due course,
Even to the guilt or the purgation.
Produce the prisoner.
This session causes us great grief to say— It presses directly against my heart: we are trying The daughter of a king, my wife, and one Who is far too much beloved by me. Let me be cleared Of being a tyrant, since we are proceeding so openly In justice, which will run its full course, Even to the conviction or the acquittal. Bring out the prisoner.
I have to say this court session really breaks my heart— It cuts right through me: we're putting on trial A king's daughter, my wife, and someone I loved way too much. Don't call me a tyrant Just because I'm being so public about the legal process, Which will run its course completely, Whether that ends in guilty or innocent. Bring in the prisoner.
this trial crushes me we're putting my wife on trial don't say I'm a tyrant just cause I'm public about it the law will take its full course bring the prisoner out
The Officer of the court speaks in the flat impersonal language of legal proceedings — reading indictments, announcing oaths, reciting the oracle. Watch for how bureaucratic language becomes a weapon of oppression when it processes an unjust charge.
It is his highness’ pleasure that the queen
Appear in person here in court. Silence!
Hermione is brought in guarded; Paulina and Ladies attending.
It is the command of his majesty that the queen Present herself here in this courtroom, in the flesh. Everyone quiet now! Hermione enters under guard, with Paulina and the other ladies.
The king orders the queen to Show up here in court in person. Everybody be silent! Hermione gets brought in with guards, and Paulina and the ladies follow her.
king says queen has to appear in court now be quiet hermione's brought in with guards and paulina
Read the indictment.
Read the formal charges against her.
Go on, read what she's being accused of.
read the charges
[_Reads._] “Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, king of Sicilia,
thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing
adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo
to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal
husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open,
thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject,
didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by
night.”
Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, king of Sicilia, you are accused and charged with high treason for committing adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia, and plotting with Camillo to murder our sovereign king, your royal husband. The evidence of this is shown in part by the circumstances. You, Hermione, acting against your duty as a loyal subject, advised and helped them escape safely by fleeing at night.
Hermione, queen of the worthy Leontes, king of Sicilia, you are accused and charged with high treason for committing adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia, and plotting with Camillo to murder our sovereign king, your royal husband. The evidence is partly shown by circumstances. You advised and helped them escape safely by running away at night.
hermione accused of high treason adultery with polixenes plotting to kill the king helped them escape at night
Since what I am to say must be but that
Which contradicts my accusation, and
The testimony on my part no other
But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me
To say “Not guilty”. Mine integrity,
Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
Be so receiv’d. But thus, if powers divine
Behold our human actions, as they do,
I doubt not, then, but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know,
Who least will seem to do so, my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devis’d
And play’d to take spectators. For behold me,
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
A moiety of the throne, a great king’s daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing
To prate and talk for life and honour ’fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
As I weigh grief, which I would spare. For honour,
’Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I stand for. I appeal
To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strain’d t’ appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honour, or in act or will
That way inclining, harden’d be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near’st of kin
Cry fie upon my grave!
Since what I must say will only be what Contradicts my accusation, and The evidence on my side is no more Than what comes from myself, it barely helps me To say "Not guilty." My integrity, Being called falsehood, shall, as I express it, Be understood as false. But if the gods Beholds our human actions, as I believe They do, then I doubt not that innocence will make False accusation blush, and tyranny Tremble at patience. You, my lord, know best, Who least seem to care about it: my past life Has been as restrained, as pure, as true, As I am now unhappy; which is more Than any story can show, even if designed And performed for audiences. For look at me: A queen, who shares the throne, a great king's daughter, The mother to a promising prince, standing here To argue and speak for my life and honor before Whoever chooses to come and listen. As for life, I value it As I value my grief, which I would gladly give up. As for honor, It belongs to me and my family, And that alone is what I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir: before Polixenes Came to your court, how was I in your favor, How did I deserve to be so; since he came, With what improper conduct have I Strained to appear: if I've gone even one step beyond The limit of honor, either in action or intention Tending that way, may the hearts be hardened Of all who hear me, and my closest family Cry shame upon my grave!
Look, whatever I say will just contradict What you're accusing me of, and The only evidence I have is my own word— So saying "I'm innocent" hardly helps. You're calling my integrity a lie, so Whatever I say looks like a lie. But if the gods watch what we do—and I think they do— Then I'm confident my innocence will make This false accusation feel ashamed, and your tyranny Will shake in the face of my patience. You know me best of all, Though you're pretending you don't: my whole life Has been controlled, faithful, and honest As much as I'm now miserable; which is saying something Based on any story you've ever heard, even made-up ones. Look at who I am: A queen with real power, a king's daughter, Mother to a prince with a great future, and here I am Having to beg for my life and my reputation in front of Whoever wants to listen. My life? I'd trade it Like I'd trade my grief, so I'd give it up. My honor? That's my legacy to my children, That's what matters to me. I'm asking you To listen to your conscience: before Polixenes Got here, you loved me and I earned that love; after he came, Have I done anything inappropriate? If I've stepped even slightly out of line— In what I've done or what I've wanted to do— Then may everyone who hears this turn cold, And may my own family curse my name after I die!
anything i say sounds like i'm lying if gods see what we do then i'm confident my innocence will beat your false charges you know how faithful i've been my whole life has been pure i'm begging for my life and my honor if i've done one wrong thing may everyone curse my grave
I ne’er heard yet
That any of these bolder vices wanted
Less impudence to gainsay what they did
Than to perform it first.
I've never heard That any of these bolder wrongdoers lacked Less shamelessness to deny what they did Than it took to do it in the first place.
I've never known A person doing something serious wrong Who was less bold about lying about it Than they were bold doing the act itself.
people who do wrong are just as shameless denying it as they were doing it
That’s true enough;
Though ’tis a saying, sir, not due to me.
That's true enough; Though it's a saying, sir, not one that applies to me.
You're right about that; But that saying doesn't describe me, sir.
that's true but it doesn't apply to me
You will not own it.
You refuse to acknowledge it.
So you're going to deny it.
nope won't admit it
More than mistress of
Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,
With whom I am accus’d, I do confess
I lov’d him as in honour he requir’d,
With such a kind of love as might become
A lady like me; with a love even such,
So and no other, as yourself commanded:
Which not to have done, I think had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude
To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke,
Ever since it could speak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,
I know not how it tastes, though it be dish’d
For me to try how: all I know of it
Is that Camillo was an honest man;
And why he left your court, the gods themselves,
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.
More than a mistress of What comes to me as guilt, I must not Admit at all. As for Polixenes, With whom I am accused, I do confess I loved him as honor required, With such a kind of love as would be fitting For a lady like me; with a love, indeed, Just so and no different, as yourself commanded: Which not to have done, I think would have been Both disobedience and ingratitude To you and to your friend, whose love had shown, Ever since it could show, from infancy, openly, That it was your love. Now, as for conspiracy, I don't know what it tastes like, though it's offered For me to try: all I know of it Is that Camillo was an honest man; And why he left your court, the gods themselves, Knowing no more than I, are in the dark.
I won't take on Any more blame than I should. As for Polixenes, Who I'm accused of, I'll say I loved him in the proper way, With the kind of love that's appropriate For a woman like me; exactly The way you yourself told me to love him: Not to have loved him would have been Both disrespect and ingratitude To you and to your friend, who showed his affection Since he was a baby, openly— That it was really your affection for him. As for conspiracy, I've no idea what that involves, though apparently I'm supposed to: all I know Is that Camillo was an honest guy; Why he left, even the gods Don't know any more than I do.
i won't take on more guilt than i should i loved polixenes the right way just like you told me to not loving him would've been disloyal camillo was honest i don't know why he left
The oracle failed to reach Leontes. A sealed, authenticated divine pronouncement that named him 'a jealous tyrant' and cleared every one of his accusations — he called it 'mere falsehood' and ordered the trial to proceed. What words cannot do, consequence does: twenty seconds later, Mamillius is dead. This sequence — oracle rejected, son dies — is Shakespeare's clearest statement about the mechanics of self-delusion. Leontes can dismiss testimony, reject authority, override loyalty. He cannot dismiss a dead child. The boy who was introduced in 1-1 as a figure of mythic promise — the one old men on crutches wanted to live to see grow up — dies here between scenes, offstage, in a single three-word sentence: 'Is dead.' Shakespeare gives the most devastating death in the play no stage time at all. The horror is in the compression.
You knew of his departure, as you know
What you have underta’en to do in ’s absence.
You knew he was leaving, just like you know What you undertook to do while he was gone.
You knew he was leaving, just like you know What you did while he was away.
you knew he was leaving you know what you did when he was gone
Sir,
You speak a language that I understand not:
My life stands in the level of your dreams,
Which I’ll lay down.
Sir, You are speaking a language I don't understand: My life depends on your accusations, Which I'll surrender.
Sir, You're speaking in riddles I can't follow: You hold my life in your hands with these accusations, And I'll accept whatever you decide.
sir i don't understand you my life is in your hands i'll accept whatever you say
Your actions are my dreams.
You had a bastard by Polixenes,
And I but dream’d it. As you were past all shame
(Those of your fact are so) so past all truth,
Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as
Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
No father owning it (which is, indeed,
More criminal in thee than it), so thou
Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage
Look for no less than death.
Your actions are my imagination. You had a bastard by Polixenes, And I only imagined it. Like you had no shame at all (People like you have none) so you have no truth either, Which is harder to deny than to help; because Your illegitimate child has been cast out, as befits itself, No father claiming it (which is, in truth, More criminal in you than it), so you Shall feel our justice; in its mildest form Look for nothing less than death.
What you've done is what I've dreamed. You had a bastard child with Polixenes, But I only dreamed it. You had no shame, So naturally you have no honesty either, Which is worse to lie about than to admit; besides, Your bastard was thrown out like it deserved, No man would claim it as his (which shows You're worse than your child), so you Will face my justice; even in its kindest form There's nothing less than death.
you had polixenes' bastard i only dreamed it you have no shame no honesty your bastard was thrown out you're worse than the child the sentence is death
Sir, spare your threats:
The bug which you would fright me with, I seek.
To me can life be no commodity.
The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,
I do give lost, for I do feel it gone,
But know not how it went. My second joy,
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
I am barr’d, like one infectious. My third comfort,
Starr’d most unluckily, is from my breast,
(The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth)
Hal’d out to murder; myself on every post
Proclaim’d a strumpet; with immodest hatred
The child-bed privilege denied, which ’longs
To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i’ th’ open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die. Therefore proceed.
But yet hear this: mistake me not: no life,
I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour,
Which I would free, if I shall be condemn’d
Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else
But what your jealousies awake, I tell you
’Tis rigour, and not law. Your honours all,
I do refer me to the oracle:
Apollo be my judge!
Sir, stop threatening: The fear you would frighten me with, I seek. Life brings me no value. The crown and joy of my life, your love, I do give up as lost, because I feel it's gone, But don't know how it left. My second happiness, And first offspring of my body, from my presence I am cut off, like I'm contagious. My third comfort, Unfortunately, is taken from my breast, (The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth) Torn away to be killed; I myself on every public place Called a whore; with harsh cruelty The mother's privilege after childbirth denied, which belongs To all women; finally, rushed here Into this open place, before I had my strength back. Now, my king, Tell me what blessings I have that are alive That I should fear to lose them. So go ahead. But wait, hear this: don't mistake me: I don't Value my life at all, but I do value my honor, Which I want to keep pure. If I'm going to be condemned Based on guesses, with all solid proof sleeping Except for what your suspicions wake up, I tell you It's cruelty, not law. You lords all, I put myself under the oracle: Apollo be my judge!
Sir, stop threatening me: The death you're trying to scare me with—I welcome it. My life is worthless. Your love was the best part of my life, And I feel it's gone, though I don't know how. My second joy was my newborn child, But I can't even be near him—I'm treated like I'm diseased. My third comfort, my baby daughter, Was literally ripped from my arms (Before she even had a chance to drink) And thrown out to die. Meanwhile everyone's calling me a whore, And I wasn't even allowed the recovery time That every woman gets after giving birth. And now I'm dragged here into the open before I've even regained my strength. So tell me, What do I have left worth living for? Go ahead, sentence me. But listen: my life means nothing to me, But my reputation means everything. If I'm being convicted on suspicion alone, With no real evidence except what your jealousy invents, Then this is cruelty, not justice. I appeal to the oracle: Let Apollo judge me!
the death you threaten i welcome it my life is worthless your love was everything i can't see my son he's hidden from me like i'm sick my daughter was torn from me and thrown out i'm called a whore i wasn't given recovery time nothing's left for me if i'm guilty it's on suspicion alone let apollo judge
This your request
Is altogether just: therefore bring forth,
And in Apollo’s name, his oracle:
This request of yours Is completely fair: therefore bring forth, And in Apollo's name, read his oracle:
Your request is absolutely right: So bring out And in Apollo's name, read his oracle:
that's fair bring out the oracle in apollo's name
The Emperor of Russia was my father.
O that he were alive, and here beholding
His daughter’s trial! that he did but see
The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes
Of pity, not revenge!
The Emperor of Russia was my father. If only he were alive and here watching His daughter's trial! if only he could see How completely my misery weighs on me; yet with eyes Of compassion, not revenge!
My father was the Emperor of Russia. I wish he was here to see this trial Of his daughter! I wish he could see How much I'm suffering; but with kindness, not anger!
my father was emperor of russia i wish he was here watching his daughter on trial with pity not revenge
You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought
This seal’d-up oracle, by the hand deliver’d
Of great Apollo’s priest; and that since then
You have not dared to break the holy seal,
Nor read the secrets in’t.
You will swear on this sword of justice here, That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have Been to Delphos, and from there have brought This sealed oracle, delivered by hand By the great Apollo's priest; and that since then You have not dared to break the holy seal, Nor read the secrets in it.
You'll swear on this sword of justice That you, Cleomenes and Dion, traveled To Delphos and brought back This sealed oracle, handed to you By Apollo's own priest; and that since then You haven't broken the seal Or read what's inside.
swear on this sword you went to delphos brought back this sealed oracle from apollo's priest haven't opened it
All this we swear.
We swear on our honor that everything is true.
We swear that's all the truth.
we swear everything's true
The most underappreciated movement in 3-2 is Paulina's shift. She enters delivering her great tirade of accusation — wheels, racks, fires, the systematic enumeration of Leontes's crimes — and is devastating. Then she stops herself. 'I am sorry for 't. All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent.' She pulls back. She apologizes. She tells Leontes to take his patience. This is sometimes read as weakness or inconsistency, but it's neither. Paulina is watching a man who has just accepted responsibility for the first time — 'I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion' — and she responds to that with mercy. The executioner recognizes when punishment has done enough. Her last speech in the scene is extraordinary in its gentleness: she names his grief, she acknowledges her own rashness, and she promises silence. Paulina is not a scold; she is a surgeon, and she knows when to stop cutting.
Break up the seals and read.
Open the seals and let us hear the words.
Open that thing up and tell me what it says.
open it tell us
[_Reads._] “Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true
subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten;
and the king shall live without an heir, if that which is lost be not
found.”
LORDS
Now blessed be the great Apollo!
[Reads.] "Hermione is faithful; Polixenes is innocent; Camillo is a loyal subject; Leontes is a jealous tyrant; his innocent baby is truly his own; and the king will live without an heir unless what has been lost is found again." LORDS Now praise be to great Apollo!
[Reads.] "Hermione never cheated. Polixenes did nothing wrong. Camillo is loyal. Leontes is a jealous tyrant. The baby really is his. And the king won't have anyone to inherit the throne unless the one who was lost turns up again." LORDS Thank god, bless Apollo!
oracle says: hermione innocent polixenes innocent camillo loyal leontes = jealous tyrant baby is his no heir unless the lost one is found lords: thank u apollo!!
Praised!
Thank God!
Thank goodness!
thank god
Hast thou read truth?
Did you read truth?
Is that what it really said?
did you read it right?
Ay, my lord, even so
As it is here set down.
Yes, my lord, exactly As it is written here.
Yes, my lord, word for word Just as it's written.
yes my lord word for word
There is no truth at all i’ th’ oracle:
The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood.
There is no truth in the oracle at all: The trial will proceed: this is just a lie.
That oracle is complete nonsense: We're continuing the trial: this is just a fraud.
the oracle is a lie trial goes on it's all fake
My lord the king, the king!
Your Majesty! The king! He's here!
Your Majesty, sire!
sire sire
What is the business?
What is happening?
What's going on?
what's wrong
O sir, I shall be hated to report it.
The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
Of the queen’s speed, is gone.
I'm sorry to tell you this. The prince your son, from only worry and fear For the queen's sentence, is gone.
I hate to tell you this. The prince, your son, from pure fear About what might happen to the queen, has died.
i hate telling you this the prince your son from fear about the queen is dead
The oracle reads in five clauses: Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten. And then a sixth: 'the king shall live without an heir, if that which is lost be not found.' The first five are backward-looking — they correct Leontes's delusions about the recent past. The sixth is forward-looking — it is a prophecy about the play's second half. 'That which is lost' is Perdita, the abandoned daughter. And the oracle's promise is conditional: the king will be heirless unless she is found. This means Apollo isn't just condemning the past — he is pointing toward the solution. The oracle knows how the play ends. The restoration in 5-3 is already present in 3-2, hidden in the sixth clause, waiting sixteen years to be fulfilled. Keep that in mind when Perdita is found.
How! gone?
What do you mean, gone?
Gone? What are you saying?
gone??
Is dead.
He is dead.
He's dead.
he's dead
Apollo’s angry, and the heavens themselves
Do strike at my injustice.
Apollo is angry, and the heavens themselves Are striking at my wrongdoing.
Apollo is furious, and the heavens Are punishing my injustice.
apollo is angry the heavens are punishing me
How now there?
What's happening now?
What's going on?
what's happening
This news is mortal to the queen. Look down
And see what death is doing.
This news will kill the queen. Look down And see what death is doing.
This news will destroy the queen. Look at her And see how death is taking her.
the queen is dying look at her death is taking her
Take her hence:
Her heart is but o’ercharg’d; she will recover.
I have too much believ’d mine own suspicion.
Beseech you tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life.
Take her away: Her heart is just overwhelmed; she will get better. I've believed my own suspicions too much. Please apply gentle care to her Some medicines to save her life.
Take her away: Her heart is just overloaded; she'll recover. I've listened to my own fears too much. Please try to help her carefully With some medicines to keep her alive.
take her away her heart is overloaded she'll get better i listened to my fears too much try gentle medicines for her
Apollo, pardon
My great profaneness ’gainst thine oracle!
I’ll reconcile me to Polixenes,
New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo,
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy;
For, being transported by my jealousies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister to poison
My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My swift command, though I with death and with
Reward did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it and being done. He, most humane
And fill’d with honour, to my kingly guest
Unclasp’d my practice, quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended,
No richer than his honour. How he glisters
Thorough my rust! And how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!
Apollo, forgive my terrible blasphemy against your oracle! I will reconcile myself with Polixenes, woo my queen again, and recall the good Camillo, whom I proclaim to be a man of truth and mercy. Because I was driven by jealousy toward bloody thoughts and revenge, I chose Camillo to poison my friend Polixenes—which would have been done, but Camillo's good conscience delayed my command, even though I threatened him with death and tempted him with rewards, neither punishing him for refusing nor rewarding him for obeying. He, being most humane and full of honor, revealed my plot to my kingly guest, gave up his great fortunes here, and risked everything on his honor alone, having nothing richer to depend on. How he shines brightly compared to my darkness! And how his piety makes my own deeds look even blacker!
Apollo, please forgive me for defying your oracle! I'll make peace with Polixenes, try to win back my queen, and bring back Camillo, that honest and good man. I was so consumed by jealousy and thoughts of revenge that I ordered Camillo to poison Polixenes—and he would have done it, despite my threats and bribes. But he's a truly good man, full of honor, so he told Polixenes about the plot instead and gave up his position. He risked everything for his honor. When I look at him, he gleams with goodness while I look dark and evil.
apollo forgive me i blasphemed your oracle i'll make peace with polixenes woo back my queen recall camillo the honorable i tried to make him poison polixenes but he refused revealed the plot gave up everything he shines compared to my darkness
Hermione appears to die in this scene. Paulina reports it; Leontes accepts it; the play proceeds as if it were true. This is one of the great theatrical deceptions in Shakespeare — a fake death concealed so successfully that it functions as a real death for sixteen years of stage time. How Shakespeare manages it is worth noting: Hermione collapses offstage, Paulina reports her dead, Leontes doesn't dispute it, and everyone proceeds on that basis. The audience is never shown a body. Paulina's later certainty about Hermione's death — 'I say she's dead, I'll swear't' — may be her cover story, protecting Hermione while Leontes does his penance. Or Paulina may not know yet. The play refuses to tell us exactly when Paulina learned the truth. What we know is that she made a decision — keep Hermione hidden, let the king grieve, wait for the conditions of restoration — and maintained it for sixteen years.
Woe the while!
O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,
Break too!
Sorrow on everything! Please loosen my lacing, or my heart, breaking through it, Will break too!
This is terrible! Somebody loosen my corset before my heart Breaks right through it!
oh no loosen my lacing my heart's gonna break
What fit is this, good lady?
What sort of seizure is this, dear lady?
Paulina, what's happening to you?
are you okay
What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling
In leads or oils? What old or newer torture
Must I receive, whose every word deserves
To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny,
Together working with thy jealousies,
Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine. O, think what they have done,
And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray’dst Polixenes, ’twas nothing;
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant
And damnable ingrateful; nor was’t much
Thou wouldst have poison’d good Camillo’s honour,
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter,
To be or none or little, though a devil
Would have shed water out of fire ere done’t,
Nor is’t directly laid to thee the death
Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts,
Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart
That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
Blemish’d his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: but the last—O lords,
When I have said, cry Woe!—the queen, the queen,
The sweet’st, dear’st creature’s dead, and vengeance for’t
Not dropp’d down yet.
What planned torments, tyrant, do you have for me? What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling In leads or oils? What old or new torture Must I receive, when every word I speak deserves To taste your absolute worst? Your tyranny, Working together with your suspicions, Fancies too weak for boys, too silly and idle For girls of nine. Think about what they've done, And then go completely mad! All along Your past stupidities were just hints of this. That you betrayed Polixenes was nothing; That just showed you were a fool, unreliable And despicably ungrateful; nor was it much That you wanted to poison good Camillo's name, To have him kill a king; small offenses, Looking worse by comparison: of which I count The throwing out to birds your baby daughter, To be nothing or almost nothing, even though a devil Would have cried before doing it, Nor is it directly laid at your door the death Of the young prince, whose noble thoughts, Thoughts too mature for someone so young, broke the heart That could have such a gross and foolish father Caused injury to his honorable mother: this is not, no, Laid at your account: but the last—oh lords, When I have said it, cry Sorrow!—the queen, the queen, The sweetest, dearest creature is dead, and vengeance for it Hasn't fallen yet.
What torture has the tyrant planned for me? Wheel? stretching rack? fire? flaying? boiling In metal or oil? What kind of torture, New or old, do I deserve, when every single word I say deserves your worst punishment? Your power over me, Taking over your jealousy, Are suspicions too childish for even ten-year-olds, Too silly for nine-year-old girls. Think about what you've done, Then go completely insane! All the crazy things You've done before are just practice for this. Betray Polixenes? That was nothing— It just showed you're a fool, can't be trusted And ungrateful as they come; wanting to murder Camillo's reputation so he'd kill a king—minor crime Compared to this: throwing your baby daughter To the crows like she's trash, even though even a devil Would have shed tears first, And you can't even take direct blame for killing Your son—the boy who thought bigger than his years, Who had to live with the shame of such a gross And foolish father betraying his honest mother: you can't Even own that. But the queen, the queen— When I'm done, you'll want to scream— The sweetest creature in the world is dead, and God's vengeance For it hasn't landed yet.
what torture are you planning wheels racks fires flaying boiling every word i say deserves punishment your jealousy and suspicions are like a child's fantasy think about what you did then go mad betraying polixenes was nothing wanting to poison camillo worse but throwing your baby to the crows that's unthinkable even a devil would cry and your son died from shame at having you as a father but the queen the queen the sweetest creature is dead and you deserve punishment you haven't gotten yet
The higher powers forbid!
Heaven will not allow such a thing!
Please, no, don't say that!
not possible nope
I say she’s dead: I’ll swear’t. If word nor oath
Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly or breath within, I’ll serve you
As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things, for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir. Therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.
I say she's dead: I'll swear it. If words or oaths Do no good, go and see: if you can find Color, or brightness, in her lip, her eye, Warmth outside or breath inside, I'll serve you As I would serve the gods. But you, tyrant! Do not regret these things, because they are worse Than all your sorrows can move. So turn yourself To nothing but despair. A thousand knees Ten thousand years together, naked, starving, On a barren mountain, and always winter In endless storm, could not move the gods To look your way.
She's dead—I swear it. If you don't believe me, Go look yourself: if you can find Any color in her lip, any light in her eye, Any warmth or breath in her body, I'll serve you Like you're a god. But you, tyrant! Don't expect forgiveness for what you've done, because it's Worse than anything you could suffer. So give up All hope. Even if a thousand people Spent ten thousand years Naked and starving on a bare mountain In endless storms, the gods still wouldn't Listen to your prayers.
she's dead i swear it go look if you don't believe if you find any breath in her i'll serve you like a god but don't expect forgiveness your crimes are too huge thousands of years of suffering won't move the gods to help you
Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv’d
All tongues to talk their bitterest.
Keep going, keep going: You cannot speak too harshly; I have earned All bitter speech from everyone.
Keep going, keep going: You can't say anything too harsh; I deserve Every cruel word.
keep going you can't be too harsh i deserve it all
Say no more:
Howe’er the business goes, you have made fault
I’ th’ boldness of your speech.
Say no more: However the case turns out, you have overstepped In the boldness of your language.
Stop now: No matter what happens, you've gone too far With how bluntly you're speaking.
stop talking you've gone too far speaking this boldly
I am sorry for ’t:
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent. Alas, I have show’d too much
The rashness of a woman: he is touch’d
To th’ noble heart. What’s gone and what’s past help,
Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction
At my petition; I beseech you, rather
Let me be punish’d, that have minded you
Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
The love I bore your queen—lo, fool again!
I’ll speak of her no more, nor of your children.
I’ll not remember you of my own lord,
Who is lost too. Take your patience to you,
And I’ll say nothing.
I'm sorry for it: All mistakes I make, when I come to understand them, I do regret. I'm afraid I've shown too much The recklessness of a woman: he has been wounded To his noble heart. What's gone and what's beyond help, Should be past mourning. Do not take offense At my words; I ask you instead Let me be punished, I who have reminded you Of what you should forget. Now, good my king, Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: The love I felt for your queen—see, I'm foolish again! I'll speak of her no more, or of your children. I'll not remind you of my own husband, Who is also lost. Take your strength and composure, And I'll say nothing.
I'm sorry: When I realize my mistakes, I regret them. I guess I showed how reckless women can be: I've hurt you Deep down. What's already gone and lost Should stop hurting us. Please don't be offended By what I said; instead Let me pay for it—I'm the one who reminded you Of what you need to forget. Now, my good king, Sir, your majesty, forgive a foolish woman: I loved your queen—there I go again being foolish! I won't talk about her anymore or your children. I won't bring up my own husband either, Who's also dead. Pull yourself together, And I'll shut up.
i'm sorry i regret my mistakes i was too reckless i hurt you what's lost is lost please don't be offended punish me instead i reminded you of what to forget forgive a foolish woman i loved your queen i won't talk about her or your kids my husband's dead too take care of yourself i'll be quiet
Thou didst speak but well
When most the truth, which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me
To the dead bodies of my queen and son:
One grave shall be for both. Upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto
Our shame perpetual. Once a day I’ll visit
The chapel where they 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
To these sorrows.
You spoke well When you spoke the truth most of all, which I receive much better Than to be pitied by you. Please, bring me To the dead bodies of my queen and son: One grave shall hold them both. On them will be written The reasons for their death, for Our eternal shame. Once each day I'll visit The chapel where they lie, and tears I shed there Shall be my only comfort. As long as I'm able To keep doing this, for as long as I live I will use each day for this purpose. Come, and lead me To these sorrows.
You've said exactly what needs to be said, And I take it better than I would take pity from you. Please, show me Where my queen and son are: They'll share one grave. The world will read there What killed them, and it will be Our family's permanent shame. Every single day I'll go to The tomb where they're buried, and the tears I shed Will be how I live. As long as I can physically do it, I'll spend every day there. Come on, take me To them now.
you said what i needed to hear i take it better than pity show me where they are one grave for both the world will know their deaths it's our shame forever every day i'll visit and cry that's my life now take me there
The Reckoning
This is the play's pivot — the hinge between the winter tragedy and the slow summer of restoration. Everything that has been building since 1-2 arrives here: Hermione's magnificent self-defense, the oracle's unambiguous verdict, Leontes's catastrophic rejection of it, and then in the space of minutes, the collapse of everything. Mamillius is dead. Hermione appears to be dead. Paulina tears into Leontes with scalding fury. And then Leontes, finally broken past resistance, makes his vow of penance. The audience is left in ruins, sixteen years from hope.
If this happened today…
An employment tribunal where a senior executive has fired his pregnant wife, publicly accused her of sleeping with a business partner, and dragged her before a three-person panel. She gives a composed, legally precise defense — she'll appeal to the company's ethics committee since no other appeal is available. The independent auditor's report arrives mid-session, clears her completely, identifies the CEO as a paranoid actor. The CEO declares the auditors corrupt and orders the tribunal to continue. Three minutes later his assistant enters to say his son, who'd been hospitalized following the public disgrace of his mother, has died. The CEO's chair is still warm when he stands up to apologize and resign.