1 Lord.

Say no more: Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I'the boldness of your speech.

Paul.

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 the noble heart. What's

help,

gone,

and what's past

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 :

And I'll say nothing.

Leon.

Take your patience to you,

Thou didst speak but well,

When most the truth, which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, 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

Come, and lead me

Will bear up with this exercise, so long
I daily vow to use it.
To these sorrows.

[Exeunt

SCENE III. Bohemia.

A desert Country near the Sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Babe; and a Mariner.

Ant. Thou art perfect,' then, our ship hath touch'd

upon

The deserts of Bohemia?

Mar. Ay, my lord, and fear We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly, And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry, And frown upon us.

Ant. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get aboard; Look to thy bark: I'll not be long, before

I call upon thee.

Mar. Make your best haste, and go not

Too far i'the land: 'tis like to be loud weather;
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
Of prey that keep upon't.

I have heard (but not believ'd) 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
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,

That is, well assured.

Like very sanctity, she did approach

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,
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 forever, Perdita,

I pr'ythee, 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
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys;
Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously,

I will be squar'd by this. I do believe
Hermione hath suffer'd death; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid,
Either for life or death, upon the earth
Of its right father.

Blossom, speed thee well!
[Laying down the Babe.

There lie; and there thy character: there these;

[Laying down a bundle.

Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, And still rest thine.

wretch,

The storm begins: — - Poor

That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd

To loss, and what may follow! - Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds; and most accurs'd am I,

2 That is, description. The writing afterward discovered with Perdita.

To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell!

The day frowns more and more: thou art like to have A lullaby too rough. I never saw

3

The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour!
Well may I get aboard!

I am gone forever.

- This is the chase;

[Exit, pursued by a bear

Enter an old Shepherd.

Shep. I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting. Hark you now! - Would any but these boil'd brains of nineteen, and two-and-twenty, hunt this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep; which, I fear, the wolf will sooner find, than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [Taking up the Child.] Mercy on's, a barn; a very pretty barn! A god, or a child, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one. Sure, some scape: 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

5

3. So, in Greene's novel: "Shalt thou have the whistling windes for thy lullabie, and the salt sea fome instede of sweete milke?'

H.

4 This clamour was the cry of the dogs and hunters; then, seeing the bear, he cries, this is the chase, that is, the animal pursued. 5 A bairn. This word is still in use in the northern dialects for a child. It is supposed to be derived from born, things born seem. ing to answer to the Latin nati. Steevens says he had been told "that in some of our inland counties a child signified a female infunt in contradistinction to a male one;" but the assertion wants confirmation, and we may rather refer this use of it to the sim plicity of the shepherd.

up for pity; yet I'll tarry till my son come; he

halloo'd but even now.

Clo. Hilloa, loa!

Whoa, họ hoa !

Enter Clown.

Shep. What! art su near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man?

Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea, and by land! - but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

Shep. Why, boy, how is it?

Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the point: O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you' thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the bear tore out his

land service : to see how the

shoulder-bone! how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman.

6

But

to make an end of the ship: to see how the sea flap-dragon'd it; but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mock'd them; - and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mock'd him, both roaring louder than the sea, or weather.

Shep. Name of mercy! when was this, boy? Clo. Now, now; I have not wink'd since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water,

That is, swallowed it, as topers did flap-dragons, which were soine inflammable sut stances set on fire, put afloat in the liquo: and gulped down hazing. See Love's Labour's Lost, Act v sc. 1, note 7.

H.