The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and vengeance for't

Not dropp'd down yet.

1. Lord. The higher powers forbid!

Paul. 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.

Leon. Go on, go on:

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.

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 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 mine own lord,
Who is lost too: Take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.

Leon. 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 will bear up with this exercise,
So long I daily vow to use it. Come,
And lead me to these sorrows.

[Exeunt.

Bohemia. A desert country near the sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner

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

The deserts of Bohemia ?

Mar. Ay, my Lord; and fear

upon

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!

aboard;

Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before
I call upon thee.

Mar. Make your best haste; and go not

Go, get

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.

Ant. Go thou away; I'll follow instantly,

Mar. I am glad at heart

To be so rid o'the business.

Ant. Come, poor babe:

[Exit.

I have heard, (but not believ'd,) the spirits of 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,
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

Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,

babe

I prythee, 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 child.

There lie; and there thy character: there these;

[Laying down a bundle.

Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee,

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,

To be by oath enjoin'd to this.

Farewell!

The day frowns more and more; thou art like to

A lullaby too rough: I never saw

have

The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour?

Well may I get aboard!

I am gone for ever.

This is the chace;

[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 bold brains of nineteen, and twoand-twenty, hunt this weather? There have scared 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, browzing on ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [ Taking up the child.] 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: though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunkwork, some behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this, than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he holla'd but even now. Whoa, ho hoa!

Enter Clown.

Clown. Hilloa, loa!

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

Clown. 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?

Clown. 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 mainmast: and anon swallow'd with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service, To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said, his name was Antigonus, a nobleman: But

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

Shep. Name of mercy, when was this, boy? Clown. Now, now; I have not wink'd since I