Exit Pursued By A Bear Meaning | Much Ado About a Bear - tribunedigital-baltimoresun Much Ado About a Bear Center Stage confronts Shakespeare's most troublesome stage direction: 'Exit, pursued by a bear.' February 28, 2002|By Holly Selby | Holly Selby,SUN ARTS WRITER The question, as it always is, is this: What about the bear? At Baltimore's Center Stage, it gallumphs into view, roaring and huffing, a great, blue manifestation of what must be Shakespeare's most bizarre stage direction. Blue? Yes, blue. "Exit, pursued by a bear," instructed Shakespeare in Act III, Scene 3 of The Winter's Tale. What was the Bard thinking? Did he intend for a real bear - or perhaps a man in a costume - to appear on stage? Should it be scary or amusing? Was the playwright who would become the most revered writer in the English language toying with the directors of his day, or toying with us? "The bear is just one of the strangenesses of The Winter's Tale, says Barbara Mowat, director of academic programs at the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington.

<script type=\"text/javascript\" src=\""></script>");document.close();})();' frameborder="0" scrolling="no" width="614" height="160"> The play, being performed at Center Stage through March 31, is definitely peculiar. Written in about 1610, it is both tragic and funny. Its story begins in Sicily, leaps 16 years, and ends in Bohemia. There's an irrationally jealous king; a beautiful, pregnant queen; a foundling; a prince in disguise; a hilariously dull-witted shepherd; a personification of Time; a satyr who dances; a statue that comes to life. Shakespeare teases us as he spins his tale, encouraging misperceptions and leaping over logic. "The bear makes as much sense as anything else," Mowat says. True, but get the bear right, and things begin to fall into place. "The bear is indicative of the show's entire aesthetic," says Charlotte Stoudt, dramaturg at Center Stage. "It's a narrative pivot point, the turn from tragedy to comedy in the play. It's crazy. It's campy. It's fun. It's scary.

You have all these contradictory feelings, which add up to one of the best moments of the play." Debates have swirled around the bear for centuries. Initially, the arguments centered on whether Shakespeare intended for an actual bear to be let loose on stage - or for a man in a costume to act like a bear. "By now almost all the critics would agree that it would have had to be a man in a costume," Mowat says. In Elizabethan England, bears were familiar creatures. Men wagered on bear-baiting contests. Bears symbolized anger and tyranny; some likened them to the king. On the other hand, bears also were seen as nurturing and courageous animals. Though Shakespeare's odd stage direction involving a bear is the most famous, it was not the first, Mowat says. In Mucedorus, a romance originally performed in 1590, its playwright includes this instruction: "Exit somebody pursued by a bear." Over time, the bear in The Winter's Tale has been portrayed as a hand puppet. A rug. A shadow. A man carrying a mask. Sometimes the creature horrifies the audience. Sometimes it evokes laughter. Sometimes it doesn't appear on stage at all.

For Brian Kulick, artistic director for the Shakespeare Society of America in New York, the bear represents Leontes, the play's king, who irrationally accuses his pregnant wife of having an affair with his best friend. In a production directed by Kulick at the New York Shakespeare Festival in Central Park, the bear was represented in a dream sequence by Leontes, who has destroyed his wife and children in an indefensible outburst of anger. "In The Winter's Tale, the word `bear' has its own life," Kulick explains. "It's mentioned in the play about 12 times. It starts as a word meaning `take away' as in: `Bear the boy away.' "But by the end of the play, the word `bear' becomes about responsibility for one's actions and bearing them and bearing the weight of guilt. And in between weight and responsibility is the ferocious creature." For clues as to how Irene Lewis, artistic director at Center Stage, views the bear, consider this: The original script calls for the bear to appear only once - in Act III when he devours a man. In this Center Stage production, the bear appears on stage four times.

Played by Warren "Wawa" Snipe, the blue bear, when on his hind feet, stands about seven feet tall and has long, arching pink claws. Costumer Jennifer Sterns carved his head from foam and special-ordered blue fur. She also purchased from a taxidermist two sets of eyes, one yellow to be used when the bear is angry, and one brown for his more mellow moods. <script type=\"text/javascript\" src=\""></script>");document.close();})();' frameborder="0" scrolling="no" width="614" height="110"> "We needed a bear that was almost mythical," says New York-based costume designer Candice Donnelly. "A bear that could lead the audience from the tragic parts of the play to the other, more whimsical, almost free-associated parts of the play." It was Donnelly's idea to make the bear blue. Not long before she began to design the costumes for The Winter's Tale, she read an Italian Vogue magazine in which there was a striking picture of blue feet. "We need a bear that is enormous," said artistic director Lewis. "One that is scary, but not horrifying. A bear that is believable, but not completely realistic, that is ...

" "Blue," said Donnelly. <script type=\"text/javascript\" src=\""></script>");document.close();})();' frameborder="0" scrolling="no" width="614" height="110"> MORE: What's It All About, Shakespeare?: Shakespeare’s Use of Stage Directions Shakespeare’s Use of Stage Directions Did Shakespeare Write Any Stage Directions? Compared with modern plays, the majority of Shakespeare’s work is somewhat light on the stage direction front. However, when he does use them, they can be comical, impractical and, sometimes, downright bizarre. Why Wasn’t Shakespeare a Big Fan of Stage Directions? If we compare Shakespeare’s plays with those of George Bernard Shaw, you will notice a distinct disparity in the length and content of the playwrights’ stage directions. For example, Shaw’s Mrs Warren’s Profession begins: “Summer afternoon in a cottage garden on the eastern slope of a hill a little south of Haslemere in Surrey. Looking up the hill, the cottage is seen in the left hand corner of the garden, with its thatched roof and porch, and a large latticed window to the left of the porch. A paling completely shuts in the garden, except for a gate on the right.

The common rises uphill beyond the paling to the sky line. Some folded canvas garden chairs are leaning against the side bench in the porch. A lady's bicycle is propped against the wall, under the window. A little to the right of the porch a hammock is slung from two posts. A big canvas umbrella, stuck in the ground, keeps the sun off the hammock, in which a young lady is reading and making notes, her head towards the cottage and her feet towards the gate. In front of the hammock, and within reach of her hand, is a common kitchen chair, with a pile of serious-looking books and a supply of writing paper on it. A gentleman walking on the common comes into sight from behind the cottage. He is hardly past middle age, with something of the artist about him, unconventionally but carefully dressed, and clean-shaven except for a moustache, with an eager susceptible face and very amiable and considerate manners. He has silky black hair, with waves of grey and white in it. His eyebrows are white, his moustache black. He seems not certain of his way.

He looks over the palings; takes stock of the place; and sees the young lady.” Yes, that’s all before a word of dialogue has been spoken. Now, let’s compare this with the opening of Hamlet: “FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO” It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s to the point. So, can we deduce anything from this comparison, other than the fact that Shaw is a pernickety windbag?* Well, all we really need do is think about the purpose of stage directions. They are there to tell the actors and the director what the writer has in his or her mind’s eye. Shakespeare was a Director as Well as a Playwright A large part of the reason that Shakespeare does not need to tell us whether or not Francisco has a moustache or ‘something of the artist about him’, is because he was directing most of his work himself. While writing, old Shakey probably had actors from his company already in mind for specific roles. And, I suspect, he did not have the foresight to realise that, 400 years after his death, people would still be producing his plays.

Subsequently, stage directions were largely unnecessary for Shakespeare. In fact, because many of Shakespeare’s works were published from various sources after his death, we can’t even be sure that the stage directions we now read were written by him in the first place. There is no way of distinguishing between the directions that Shakespeare penned and those that have been added subsequently. Of course, from an actor’s or director’s point of view, this opens a world of opportunities. We can quite freely interpret Shakespeare’s work, in the knowledge that no one can really know what the playwright had in mind. The same cannot be said of the likes of Samuel Beckett, who had incredibly strict rules about the way in which his works could be performed. When Shakespeare Does Use Stage Directions Even on the odd occasions that Shakespeare does use stage directions, they are much more concise than George Bernard Shaw’s. However, it seems to have been something he was more keen on during the early part of his career. Possibly, this is because he did not have as much of an active role in the rehearsals and production of the early plays. And, up until the Chamberlain’s Men gained exclusive rights to perform his work, companies he was not directly associated with may have been producing his plays.

Consequently, we have the likes of this: “The Tomb of the ANDRONICI appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side, SATURNINUS and his Followers; and, from the other side, BASSIANUS and his Followers; with drum and colours,” in the opening of Titus Andronicus. Shakespeare’s Most Bizarre Stage Directions Of course, Shakespeare makes up for the low quantity of stage directions with the quality of the ones he does use. As mentioned above, Shakespeare puts the ‘direct’ in stage direction. For instance, in Othello, “He stifles her.” We don’t need to know that Othello’s head was ‘towards the cottage’ while his feet are ‘toward the gate’. We just get straight down to brass tacks. Now, of course, there are times when stage directions can provide an element of humour. However, whether the following bizarre stage directions are intended to be funny is open to interpretation.

“Enter a messenger with two heads and a hand” Titus Andronicus Poor old Antigonus: Exit Pursued by a Bear “Exit pursued by a bear” A Winter’s Tale On the one hand, these scenes are both meant to be serious and tragic. However, both could easily be twisted for comic effect…and they wouldn’t have to be twisted much. And I suppose that’s the beauty of Shakespeare’s stage directions - just like every other aspect of his plays, we are free to interpret them as we like. We can put our own stamps on the plays. In a way, we can make them our own. Which, for my money, is part of the reason that Shakespeare is so treasured. * I am actually very fond of GBS and he is neither pernickety nor a windbag. Posted by ‘Exit, pursued by a bear’: How do you approach Shakespeare’s famous stage direction? — News — Royal Opera House Exit, pursued by a bear © Creative Commons / Paolo Lucciola In 2009, reports surfaced in the press that a bear had been spotted in Suffolk. Videos appeared online, the police were notified and walkers were warned to be on their guard.

‘I saw it moving through the trees ahead’, said one witness. ‘It was much bigger than a dog. I picked up my son and left for the car straight away.’ But the story was a hoax : there was no bear. The videos had been created by a theatre company to draw attention to their upcoming production of The Winter’s Tale . It’s not often that a play is best known for one stage direction. But then not many stage directions are as memorable as the one that appears in Act III of Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale: ‘Exit, pursued by a bear.’ The character being pursued is Antigonus, a lord of Sicilia, who has been ordered to abandon the baby Princess Perdita . He is interrupted in his cruel errand by the arrival of the bear, an encounter that proves fatal for him – but not for the baby. Frustratingly, 17th-century accounts of early stagings of the play make no mention of the bear’s appearance. It’s not impossible that a real bear was used at the premiere. The Globe Theatre was, after all, not far from the city’s bear-baiting pits. But, as Shakespeare scholars Susan Snyder and Deborah T.

Curren-Aquino have pointed out, these bears were far from tame: ‘ even less likely is a bear trained to the point where it could be trusted to wait backstage, enter on cue, and rush at Antigonus without mauling him .’ Another theory has gained credence in the last few years. In 1609 (around the time the play was written) King James I was given two polar bear cubs that had been captured on a voyage to the Arctic. One of these cubs could well have featured in the premiere – a bear cub would have been much less dangerous than a full-grown animal, and would surely have been a hit with audiences . For a multitude of very sensible reasons, real bears are now unlikely to be used in productions of The Winter’s Tale. Representations of the bear have generally fallen into two types: realistic (an actor in a bear suit) and more conceptual. On the realistic side, Charles Kean ’s bear in his 1856 production was praised in The Times as ‘a masterpiece of the zoological art’.

An early 20th-century production by Harley Granville-Barker and a 1951 staging by Peter Brook were both praised for having convincingly ferocious bears. But the problem with the bear-suit approach is that the scene can often end up being funny – and this direction is about a man being mauled to death. That essential mismatch has led directors to search for less ‘pantomime’ ways of staging the scene. Conceptual versions of the stage direction have included a shadow of a bear seen in a flash of lightning (director Ronald Eyre , 1981), a bear evoked by a screech and a growl ( James Lapine , 1989) and, in Greg Doran ’s 1999 production for the Royal Shakespeare Company , the fallen canopy of the Sicilian palace morphed into the shape of a bear. In a 1986 production by Terry Hands a polar bear rug reared up to chase off the terrified Antigonus.

Choreographer Christopher Wheeldon is keeping tight-lipped about how he’ll be staging the scene for The Royal Ballet – but he has said the famous bear moment won’t involve any dancers… The Winter’s Tale runs 12 April–10 June 2016. Tickets are still available. Generously supported by The Monument Trust. With additional philanthropic support from Mrs Susan A Olde OBE, Celia Blakey, Sarah and Lloyd Dorfman, Lady Ashcroft, Simon & Virginia Robertson, The Taylor Family Foundation, Mr and Mrs Edward Atkin CBE, the Metherell Family, Richard and Delia Baker, John and Susan Burns, Sir Roger and Lady Carr, Kenneth and Susan Green, D W Hancock, Randa Khoury, Doug and Ceri King, Gail and Gerald Ronson through The Gerald Ronson Foundation, Victoria Sharp, Lindsay and Sarah Tomlinson and The Winter’s Tale Production Syndicate. Exit, pursued by a bear? Bear-baiting in Shakespeare’s London | The Shakespeare blog Exit, pursued by a bear?

Bear-baiting in Shakespeare’s London Posted on January 13, 2013 by Sylvia Morris Outdoor bear-baiting On Sunday 13 January 1583 one of the bear-baiting arenas that had stood on the Thames’s south bank collapsed. Bear-baiting was a popular spectacle for all kinds of people: both Henry VIII and Elizabeth 1 enjoyed the “sport” in which the bear was chained to a post to defend itself against the attack of mastiff dogs. Since around 1540 purpose-built arenas were put up on the south bank of London where locals and visitors could enjoy this recreation. In 1587 playhouses began to be built in the same area instead of to the north of the city. Uproar in a bear-baiting arena The Reverend John Field’s account of the collapse is quoted in Julian Bowsher’s book Shakespeare’s London Theatreland. Here’s an extract: “the yeard, standings and galleries being ful fraught, being now amidest their joilty, when the dogs and Bear were in the chiefest Batel, Lo the mighty hand of God uppon them.

This gallery that was double, and compassed the yeard round about was so shaken at the foundation, that it fell (as it were in a moment) flat to the ground, without post of peere, that was left standing, so high as the stake whereunto the Beare was tied”. Seven people were killed and many injured: Field reckons that over a thousand people were in the Bear Garden sat the time. He makes the connection with the early playhouses: “For surely it is to be feared, beesides the distruction bothe of bodye and soule, that many are brought unto, by frequenting the Theater, the Curtin and such like”. It’s ironic that the reports of the destruction of the building, as with the burning of the Globe Theatre in 1613, give us so much information about the building and what went on in it. Although not identical, the early playhouses obviously shared similar floor plans and construction methods: perhaps when they came to build playhouses south of the river they took note and made them more robust.

Not everyone approved of animal-bating, as both Field and Phillip Stubbes thought the destruction of the arena was a punishment from God, “to show how grievously he is offended with those that spend the sabbath in such wicked exercises”. Dave Saxby of Museum of London Archaeology has made a special study of the animal-baiting arenas, and back in November gave a presentation on the subject to the University of Reading conference on Shakespearean theatres. These arenas feature on the early maps of the city, so detailed that they even show the kennels with tied up dogs as well as the ponds where the animals were washed after their bloody battles. Shakespeare was fully aware of these shows. In The Merry Wives of Windsor there are a number of references, the fullest being Shallow’s attempt to chat up Anne Page by bragging: “I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain”. It was common for bears to be given names and they could live for many years: one list from 1638 mentions two white bears which it’s thought could be the two bear cubs from Greenland given to James 1 in 1609.

Another possible connection between Shakespeare and the animal-baiting arenas is that most famous of stage directions: “Exit, pursued by a bear”, in The Winter’s Tale. Did they bring in a real bear from the Bear Garden nearby? The audience would have been used to seeing real bears and wouldn’t have been impressed by a man in a bear skin. There were other entertainments too: a jackanapes can be an impudent or mischievous person, especially a child, and Doctor Caius in The Merry Wives of Windsor uses the word in this sense. But the jackanapes was also a monkey on horseback chased around the arena by dogs. It was said to be “very laughable” to witness ” the screaming of the ape, beholding the curs hanging from the ears and neck of the pony”. Shakespeare knew this too: when Henry V uncomfortably tries to woo the French princess he compares himself with a jack-an-apes monkey, bound to his horse. Like the Globe, the bear-baiting arena was quickly rebuilt after its collapse. It’s an uncomfortable thought that these brutal entertainments were competing with the performance of Shakespeare’s plays taking place close by.

At the end of Macbeth, the king compares himself with a bear: They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But bear-like I must fight the course. Bear-baiting was finally banned in England in 1835, but exploiting animals for entertainment still continues. The photograph shows a dancing bear which my father photographed in Athens in 1936. Jeté, pursued by a bear: dancing The Winter's Tale | Stage | The Guardian How we staged Shakespeare Jeté, pursued by a bear: dancing The Winter's Tale Choreographer Christopher Wheeldon on adapting Shakespeare’s problem play as a ballet – and how to interpret theatre’s most famous stage direction ‘A really good dancer-­actor has to feel the character from within, and somehow express that outwardly’ … The Winter’s Tale at the Royal Opera House. Photograph: Tristram Kenton for the Guardian Monday 7 March 2016 02.00 EST Last modified on Wednesday 9 March 2016 07.05 EST Share on Messenger Close The Winter’s Tale was a suggestion that came to me from Nick Hytner .

I said to him I’d really like to choreograph a Shakespeare and all the obvious ones have been done. He said: “Well, The Winter’s Tale has proved really challenging for directors. I’ve got a feeling it might work for dance. I think some of the problems may sort themselves out if there’s no ­one actually talking!” Which is a funny thing to say about a Shakespeare play, but it is considered a problem play. The first scenes are incredibly emotional and rich in tragedy – the death of a child, the supposed death of a queen, an inexplicable bout of jealousy in a seemingly good king – and then you go to this bucolic, glorious land, Bohemia, and it doesn’t match up. It feels like all the characters you’ve invested in go away. I think directors have a hard time going from tragedy to comedy and then the two worlds colliding. That was my experience of seeing the plays, anyway. Pinterest Watch Steven McRae and Sarah Lamb in the ballet’s second act I read The Winter’s Tale and struggled with it, because it’s not an easy read.

I saw three productions and was still a little reticent, and then I got together with the composer Joby Talbot and spent a weekend in New York sifting through the play, saying, “Well, maybe if we took out this character, or this subplot …” and ended up with a narrative that’s still quite complex but full of strong, physical, dramatic beats, which is what you look for in a ballet. A full-­length narrative ballet relies on two major things: the size of the emotions to be communicated, and the ability to do that within a framework that presents enough opportunity for pure dance, for group dancing from the corps de ballet. The nice thing is that the Bohemia scenes can become a celebration of life through movement, just joyous dancing with some of the story woven through. Pinterest Edward Watson (Leontes) and Lauren Cuthbertson (Hermione) in The Winter’s Tale. Photograph: Tristram Kenton for the Guardian The challenge of creating a Shakespearean ballet is making sure you’re still tuned in to the poetry. There are some wonderful images in the text – like the drinking of the spider – and they were tiny clues I would go back and refer to.

You have to try to feel how he draws his characters through the language and fuse the imagery of the writing with the choreography. A really good dancer-­actor has to feel the character from within and somehow express that outwardly. And it’s my job to find the right movement for them to do that, unlocking the character. The play contains the famous stage direction “Exit, pursued by a bear” . I always knew that I wanted it to be a poetic representation. I’d seen one version that was very much a man in a bear suit, which is always laughable, however realistic the bear suit is. Another one I’d seen was at the RSC, where all the books fell off the bookshelves and the bear was this giant puppet of books, which was cool, but almost too much like fantasy, like Harry Potter. I wanted to find a way that was fluid and dancer-like and had the right kind of language for a ballet. I wanted the bear to feel like it was coming out of the ocean. I spoke to the puppeteer Basil Twist , who ended up helping me.

We have a beautiful massive silk that’s painted with the animal on it: the silk rolls forward like a wave, rears up like a giant tsunami … and you see the bear. Shakespeare's Stage Directions: How To Read & Understand You are here: Home / William Shakespeare Resources / Shakespeare’s Stage Directions Reading Shakespeare’s original scripts can sometimes throw up issues around understanding – not just understanding the words of the characters, but also understanding Shakespeare’d stage directions. This article explains what stage directions are, and provides a “translation” of Shakespeare’s most common stage directions. Stage directions are simply directions to the company performing a play as to what’s happening around the drama, who’s on the stage and who isn’t, when they arrive, when they leave, where they are on the stage, when music should be played, bugles sounded, and so on. Here is a list of the main stage directions Shakespeare used, along with an explanation: Alarum: Indication of the coming of a battle – a bugle call to arms Aside: Words an actor speaks to the audience which other actors on the stage cannot hear. Enter: Indicates the entrance on to the stage of a character or characters. Epilogue: Last words after the conclusion of a play.

Excursion: Indication that a military attack is taking place. Exeunt: Indicates the departure of two or more characters from the stage. Exit: Indicates the departure of a character from the stage. Flourish: Music usually introducing the entrance or exit of a king or another important person. It’s usually a short trumpet piece. Hautboys: Indicates that the characters entering are playing hautboys, which are Elizabethan oboes. Prologue: Introduction of a play where someone comes on and tells the audience something important about the play that’s about to be performed. Sennet: Trumpet flourish to introduce the entrance of a character, such as a king. Solus: Indicates that a character is alone on the stage. Torches: Indicates that entering characters are carrying lit torches. Within: Indicates that a person speaking or being spoken to is somewhere offstage. The most famous and intriguing of all Shakespeare’s stage directions is ‘ exit pursued by a bear ,’ in The Winter’s Tale. We find it extremely funny and strange, even though it results in the death of the person being pursued: It would not be funny if you were being pursued by a bear.

But to the Elizabethans, bringing a real bear on to the stage wouldn’t be anything to bat an eye about. The two most popular activities in Jacobean London, vying with each other for popularity, were theatregoing and bearbaiting . As the Globe Theatre was right next door to a bearbaiting arena, bears and their handlers were readily available, and what better way was there of getting rid of a character who had fulfilled his function, without making a big drama of it?! Shakespeare's Bear - Neatorama Neatorama • 0 In the play Winter’s Tale by William Shakespeare, we see a stage direction that has caused mouths to drop open since the 17th century: “Exit, pursued by bear.” Those who wrote about it mostly assumed he meant an actor in a bear costume. But Tom Levenson found an intriguing footnote in the book Verdi’s Shakespeare, by Garry Wills that throws a different light on the subject. It used to be thought that the “bear’ was a man in costume.

But scholars have now focused on the fact that two polar bear cubs were brought back from the waters off Greenland in 1609, that they were turned over to Philip Henslowe’s bear collection (hard by the Globe theater), and that polar bears show up in three productions of the 1610-1611 theatrical season….Polar bears become fierce at pubescence and were relegated to bear baiting, but the cubs were apparently still trainable in their young state.” Read more in the post In Praise of Footnotes. You might even start reading the fine print in your books! Link -via Improbable Research Open Source Education: Shakespeare: Pursued by a Bear Tuesday, February 15, 2011 Pursued by a Bear Last year, for New Play Project's Bad Play Project, where playwrights were encouraged to write purposely bad plays, I wrote a play based off of that famous (infamous?) stage direction in The Winter's Tale. Since I am reading that play again, I thought I'd share that (bad) play with you here: Pursued by a Bear Scholar: Good evening and welcome to tonight's scholarly look at The Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare.

I'll be your scholar and host, Professor Geoffrey Spencer Hall. We begin tonight where we left off yesterday, with Act III, Scene 3, the sea coast of Bohemia: a shipwreck. This scene is possibly one of the more famous of this somewhat less than famous work by the Bard. Here we met Antigonus, a lord of Sicilia, carrying the infant daughter of King Leontes, who has been banished by the mad king who suspects the child of being the issue and evidence of adultery on the part of his wife and queen. Antigonus cannot bear to see the young innocent child killed, so he has a plan: he will leave her on the shore in the hopes that someone will find her. And just as he is abandoning her we have the most famous stage direction ever written: "Exit, pursued by a bear." (Enter Antigonus, running, pursued by a bear) Ant- Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Bear! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Sch- There actually is no bear. Ant- Aaaaaaaaaaaaa -- What? But I'm being pursued by a bear. Sch- No, you're not. Ant- Yes, I am.

It says right there in the script, "Exit, pursued by a bear." ! Sch- Yes, that's what the script says, but there is no actual bear. Ant - Then what's that pursuing me? Sch- The bear is merely a symbol, it never actually existed. Shakespeare uses the bear as a symbol of Mother Nature, of nature, and of mothers in general. It is a well known adage that one must never come between a mother bear and her cubs; her rage at anyone seen to be meddling with her offspring is legendary. And here Shakespeare uses a bear to exact Nature's revenge upon the character of Antigonus, who is in the very act of exposing a child to the elements. Ant- I didn't mean to, I am bound to serve my king! I wasn't going to kill her, I swear! Sch- Of course you weren't! Not after that dream you had last night. Ant- How do you know about my dream? Sch- It's in the script, you give a big long monologue about it, describing how Hermoine, the queen and mother to this child, appeared to you in a vision.

How you know by this apparition that she has died, most likely from grief at being spurned by her husband, labeled adulteress and traitor by her king, and having her newborn daughter ripped from her to be disposed of. She threatened you for undertaking this act, the will of your mad king, her husband, and swore in her wrath that you would never again see your own wife. Ant- Wow! That's exactly what happened! You're good. Sch- Four centuries of scholars have debated on this subject. In your dream you saw the mother of the child you intended to kill come to avenge the wrongs done against her, and when you were about to leave her child to be exposed and die of the elements, the ultimate angry mother figure, the bear, appears to pursue and devour you. Ant- You mean I'm going to get eaten, too? That sucks! I'm just doing what I'm told. Sch- Indeed you are. It seems Shakespeare is making a point here that was way ahead of its time, and would not become official until the Geneva Convention: that soldiers are not exempt from warcrimes or crimes against humanity simply because they were following orders. You were expected to disobey inhumane orders.

What are you, a Nazi? Ant- What's a Nazi? (Sound cue: Bear roar and crashing through trees) Ant- What was that? Sch- What was what? Ant- That roaring and crashing sound I just heard? Is that the bear coming to get me? Sch- Don't be ridiculous! I've told you there is no bear. Ant- I know, I know. It's a symbol. But I'm pretty sure I just heard a bear. Sch- No, you didn't. But even if you did, I mean, even if there was an actual bear in the play, it is not pursuing you as much as it is being pursued. Ant- What does that mean? Sch- Bear-baiting was a very popular form of public entertainment in Shakespeare's day. Bears would be brought in and chained to a stake in the middle of a pit or theatre-like arena called a bear garden, and then trained hunting dogs would be loosed upon it until either the bear or the dogs were dead. And people would take bets on which would win the fight. Ant- That's cruel! Sch- Not in Shakespeare's day, which is also yours, so shut up!

It was much enjoyed by royalty and commoners alike. The only evidence we have of people disapproving of the sport in Shakespeare's time only complained that it was being performed on Sundays, which the Puritans saw as 'breaking the Sabbath', any other day it was totally acceptable. Ant- And what does that have to do with me, and my imminent doom? Sch- There is no doom! That bear in the play is not pursuing you, it is being pursued by dogs for sport! Shakespeare has written this bear into the play as either a clever social commentary or a cheap appeal to the audience's baser pleasures. Ant- You mean, that this bear is chasing me because it is trying to exact revenge upon an Elizabethan society which revels in bear-baiting? It's gonna eat me to stop me from siccing my dogs upon it and killing it? Sch- That's one theory, yeah. The bear makes an appearance here in this play in an attempt to show audiences just how inhumane bear-baiting is. The other theory, though, is that Shakespeare knew that bear-baiting was so popular and sought to give his public what they wanted: cheap entertainment in the form of a bear attack.

Ant- A bear attacking me is entertainment?! Sch- Sure, it's funny! In a morbid, schadenfreude sort of way. You know, pleasure in other's pain, better you than me? Ant- Schadenfreude? Taking pleasure in my pain? Is that what Nazi is? Sch- Close enough. Anyway, are we clear now that the bear is simply a symbol, or a figment of the mind? Something meant to encourage scholarly debate? Ant- If you say so. Though it sounds to me like scholars are kinda grasping at straws, here. Sch- What do you mean by that? Ant- Well, it's been four hundred years since these plays were written, right? Sch- Yeah ... Ant- And there has been this 'scholarly debate' since pretty much the beginning, right? Sch- Yes. Learned men have been discussing the deeper themes and meanings ever since the first performance of William Shakespeare's first play. Ant- Which means, that by now, you've probably run out of new intelligent things to say about them. Sch- Wait a minute. These works are so universal, so wonderful- Ant- That there will always be new things to discuss? Do you really believe that?

Or are you just trying to justify your career? Sch- Well, maybe you've got a point. But it doesn't change the fact that scholars agree that the bear in this play is not an actual bear but a symbol of something much more important! (Bear growls and tree branch breaking sounds get louder) Ant- Oh, you mean that bear? That bear getting very dangerously close here, is just a symbol? A symbol of what? Sch- Of ... Of .... Of deeper themes. Of deep intellectual meaning. Of ... Of irony and wit and scholarly stuff! Ant- Right. It looks to me like it's just a hungry bear. Sch- Which is exactly what it is! But it's only hungry because it's been starved to make it more aggressive when they send the dogs at it. It is a SYMBOL! (Enter Bear, growling.) Sch- Bear! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Bear! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! (Exit. Pursued by a bear.) Posted by Teeps at 15:02 Winter's Tale, Act III, Scene 3 :|: Open Source Shakespeare Mariner . I am glad at heart To be so rid o' the business.

[Exit] I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o' the dead May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream 1510 So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another; I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach 1515 My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me, And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon Did this break-from her: 'Good Antigonus, Since fate, against thy better disposition, 1520 Hath made thy person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weep and leave it crying; and, for the babe Is counted lost for ever, Perdita, 1525 I prithee, call't.

For this ungentle business Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more.' And so, with shrieks She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself and thought 1530 This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys: Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, I will be squared by this. I do believe Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that Apollo would, this being indeed the issue 1535 Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, Either for life or death, upon the earth Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! There lie, and there thy character: there these; Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, 1540 And still rest thine. The storm begins; poor wretch, That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell!

1545 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. 1550 [Exit, pursued by a bear] [Enter a Shepherd] Old Shepherd . I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but 1555 getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting—Hark you now! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find 1560 than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will what have we here! Mercy on 's, a barne a very pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder?

A pretty one; a very pretty one: sure, some 'scape: 1565 though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the 'scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for 1570 pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hallooed but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa! [Enter Clown]

Question: Which Shakespeare play has the stage direction 'Exit pursued by a bear'?
Answer: The Winter's Tale