Original: Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman!
Modern: Ha, ha! Honesty is such a fool! And Trust, his partner in crime, is just as stupid!

Original: I have sold all my trumpery; not a counterfeit stone, not a ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack from fasting:
Modern: I’ve sold all my cheap junk—every fake jewel, ribbon, mirror, perfume ball, pin, notebook, song sheet, knife, tape, glove, shoelace, bracelet, and ring—my bag is completely empty.

Original: they throng who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer:
Modern: They crowded around fighting over who could buy first, as if my trinkets were holy objects that would bring them a blessing.

Original: by which means I saw whose purse was best in picture; and what I saw, to my good use I remembered.
Modern: While this was happening, I could see who had the fullest wallets, and I made sure to remember that information for my own benefit.

Original: My clown, who wants but something to be a reasonable man, grew so in love with the wenches’ song, that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words;
Modern: My fool, who’s almost smart enough to be sensible, fell so in love with the girls’ singing that he wouldn’t move his feet until he’d learned both the melody and the lyrics.

Original: which so drew the rest of the herd to me that all their other senses stuck in ears:
Modern: This attracted the rest of the crowd to me so completely that all they could do was listen—their ears were the only sense they had left.

Original: you might have pinched a placket, it was senseless; ‘twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse;
Modern: You could have grabbed at their pockets and they wouldn’t have felt a thing; it was easy to cut a purse right off someone.

Original: I could have filed keys off that hung in chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir’s song, and admiring the nothing of it.
Modern: I could have sawed keys right off their chains—they had no hearing, no feeling, only my fool’s song and their amazement at his worthless performance.

Original: So that in this time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their festival purses;
Modern: So while they were in this trance-like state, I picked pockets and cut loose most of their holiday wallets.

Original: and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king’s son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army.
Modern: And if the old man hadn’t come in making a fuss about his daughter and the prince, scaring away my birds from the grain, I wouldn’t have left a single wallet untouched in the entire crowd.

Act IV, Scene iii of The Winter’s Tale introduces Autolycus, a roguish peddler and self-described “snapper-up of unconsidered trifles,” who enters singing a lively song celebrating the arrival of spring and the pleasures of a vagabond life. He reveals to the audience that he was once a servant to Prince Florizel but has since fallen into a life of petty thievery and trickery. He spots the Clown approaching — a simple, good-natured young man who is on his way to the market to purchase supplies for the sheep-shearing feast that his father, the Shepherd, is preparing. Autolycus quickly devises a scheme to take advantage of the Clown’s trusting nature.

Autolycus throws himself on the ground and pretends to have been robbed and beaten, crying out for help. The kindhearted Clown stops to assist him, and while doing so, Autolycus deftly picks the Clown’s pocket, stealing his money. He then misdirects the Clown with a fabricated tale about his fictional attacker, even cheekily describing himself as the culprit without the Clown realizing it. After the Clown departs to go about his errands, Autolycus reveals his plan to follow him to the sheep-shearing festival, where he intends to continue his trade of thieving and trickery among the gathered crowds.

The Winter’s Tale begins in Sicilia, where King Leontes hosts his childhood friend Polixenes, King of Bohemia. When Leontes asks his pregnant wife Hermione to persuade Polixenes to extend his visit, her success in convincing him to stay triggers Leontes’ sudden and violent jealousy. He becomes convinced that Hermione and Polixenes are having an affair and that her unborn child is illegitimate. Despite protests from his courtiers, Leontes orders Polixenes’ death, but Camillo, the lord commanded to poison Polixenes, instead warns him and they both flee to Bohemia.

Leontes publicly accuses Hermione of adultery and imprisons her. She gives birth to a daughter in prison, and Leontes orders the baby to be abandoned in the wilderness. When Hermione is brought to trial, the Oracle of Delphi declares her innocent, but Leontes rejects this divine judgment. Immediately after, news arrives that their young son Mamillius has died from grief, and Hermione collapses and is reported dead. Stricken with remorse, Leontes vows to spend his life repenting. Meanwhile, the baby is abandoned on the coast of Bohemia, where a shepherd finds and raises her, naming her Perdita.

Sixteen years pass. Perdita, now a beautiful young shepherdess unaware of her royal birth, falls in love with Prince Florizel, son of King Polixenes. Polixenes, disguised with Camillo, discovers his son’s romance with a shepherd’s daughter and angrily forbids the match. The young lovers flee to Sicilia with Camillo’s help, accompanied by the shepherd and his son, who carry the tokens that were left with Perdita as a baby. In Sicilia, these tokens reveal Perdita’s true identity as Leontes’ lost daughter, leading to joyful reunions and Polixenes’ forgiveness when he arrives in pursuit of his son. The play concludes when Paulina, Hermione’s loyal friend, reveals that she has kept a statue of the dead queen. In a miraculous moment, the statue comes to life—Hermione has been hidden away for sixteen years, waiting for her daughter’s return. The royal family is reunited, Florizel and Perdita are betrothed with both fathers’ blessings, and Leontes encourages Paulina to marry Camillo.