Mar. Make your best hafte; and go not

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

ANT. Go thou away;

I'll follow inftantly.

'Mar. I am glad at heart, To be fo rid o'the business.

ANT. Come, poor babe:

[Exit Mariner.

I have heard, (but not believ'd) the fp'rits o'the dead
May walk again : if fuch thing be, thy mother
Appear'd to me laft night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one fide, some' another;
I never faw a veffel of like forrow,

So fill'd, and fo becoming in pure white robes,
Like very fanctity, fhe did approach

My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me;
And, gafping to begin fome fpeech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her: Good Antigonus,-
Since fate, against thy better difposition,
Hath made thy perfon 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 loft for ever, Perdita,

I pr'ythee, call't: for this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er fhalt fee
Thy wife Paulina more: and fo, with fhrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,

I did in time collect myself; and thought
This was fo, and no flumber. Dreams are toys:
Yet, for this once, yea, fuperftitiously,
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 lay'd,
Either for life, or death, upon the earth

Of it's right father. Bloffom, fpeed thee well!

There lye; and there thy character: there these;
Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty,
And still reft thine. The storm begins: Poor wretch,
That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd
To lofs, and what may follow!

Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds and moft accurft am I,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewel! -

The day frowns more and more; thou'rt like to have
A lullaby too rough: I never faw

The heavens fo dim by day. A favage clamour ?
Well may I get aboard! This is the chace;

I am gone for ever.

[Exit, purfu'd by a Bear. Enter a Shepherd.

She. I would, there were no age between thirteen and three and twenty; or that youth would sleep out the reft for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the auncientry, ftealing, fighting. Hark you now! Would any but these boil'd brains, of nineteen, and two and twenty, hunt this weather? They have fcar'd away two of my beft fheep; which, I fear, the wolf will fooner find, than the mafter if any where I have them, 'tis by the feafide, browzing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will!

23 betweene ten and

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: though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been fome ftair-work, fome trunk work, 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 fon come; he halloo'd but even now. Whoa, ho hoa! Enter Clown.

Clo. Hilloa, loa!

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

Clo. I have seen two fuch fights, by fea, and by land; but I am not to fay, it is a fea, for it is now the fky; betwixt the firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

She. Why, boy, how is it?

Clo. I would, you did but fee how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the fhore! but that's not to the point: O, the most piteous cry of the poor fouls! fometimes, to fee 'em; and then, not to see 'em: now the fhip boring the moon with her mainmaft; and anon swallow'd with yeft and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogfhead. And then for the land-fervice,-To fee how the bear tore out his fhoulder-bone; how he cry'd to me for help, and said, his name was Antigonus, a nobleman: But to make an end of the fhip; To fee how the fea flap-dragon'd it but, firft, how the poor fouls roar'd, and the fea mock'd them; and how the poor gentleman roar'd, and

:

the bear mock'd him, both roaring louder than the fea or the weather.

She. 'Name of mercy, when was this, boy?

Clo. Now, now; I have not wink'd fince I faw these fights the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half din'd on the gentleman; he's at it

now.

She. 'Would I had been by, to have help'd the old

man.

Clo. I would you had been by the fhip fide, to have help'd her; there your charity would have lack'd footing.

She. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'it with things dying, I with things new born. Here's a fight for thee; look thee, a bearing cloth for a fquire's child: Look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let's fee; It was told me, I fhould be rich by the fairies: this is fome changling:-open't: What's within, boy?

Clo. You're a made old man; if the fins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!

She. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove fo: up with't, keep it clofe; home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be fo ftill, requires nothing but fecrefy. Let my fheep go:-Come, good boy, the next way home.

Clo. Go you the next way with your findings; I'll go fee if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten they are never curft, but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left,

21 mad

I'll bury it.

She. That's a good deed: If thou may'ft discern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' fight of him.

Clo. Marry, will I; and you fhall help to put him i'th' ground.

She. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds [Exeunt feverally.

on't.

ACT IV.

Enter Time, as Chorus.

I, that please fome, try all; both joy, and terror,
of good, and bad; that make, and unfold, error,
now take upon me, in the name of time,
to use my wings. Impute it not a crime,
to me, or my swift paffage, that I flide
o'er fixteen years, and leave the growth untry'd
of that wide gap; fince it is in my power
to o'er-throw law, and in one felf-born hour
to plant and o'erwhelm cuftom: Let me pass
the fame I am, ere ancient'ft order was,

or what is now receiv'd: I witneff'd to
the times that brought them in; fo fhall I do
to the fresheft things now reigning; and make ftale
the glist'ring of this present, as my tale

now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,
I turn my glafs; and give my scene fuch growing,
as you had flept between. Leontes leaving
the effects of his fond jealoufies; fo grieving,
that he huts up himfelf; Imagine me,

15 makes, and unfolds 24 witneffe to