So fill'd, and fo becoming; in pure white robes,
Like very fanctity, she 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 fpent, anon
Did this break from her. Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better difpofition,
Hath made thy perfon for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Pithynia,

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 shalt fee
Thy wife Paulina more. And fo, with fhrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect my felf, and thought
This was fo, and no flumber: dreams are toys,
Yet for this once, yea, fuperftitiously,
I will be fquar'd by this. I do believe
Hermione hath fuffer'd death, and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the iffue
Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid,
Either for life or death, upon the earth
Of its right father. Bloffom, fpeed thee well!

[Laying down the Child.

There lye, and there thy character; there these,
Which may, if fortune pleafe, both breed thee, pretty one,
And ftill reft thine. The ftorm begins; poor wretch,
That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd

accurft am I
Farewel!

thou art like to have

To lofs, and what may follow. Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds: and most
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.
The day frowns more and more;
A lullaby too rough: I never faw
The heav'ns fo dim by day.
Well may I

A favage clamour,

get aboard! this is the chace,

I am gone for ever.

SCENE VII.

[Exit purfued by a bear. Enter an old Shepherd.

three

Shep, I would there were no age between thirteen and

E 2

three and twenty, or that youth would fleep out the reft: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, ftealing, fighting-hark you now would any but thefe boil'd brains of nineteen and two and twenty hunt this weather? they have scar'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 fea-fide, brouzing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will, what have we here? [Taking up the Child.] Mercy on's, a bearne! a very pretty bearne! a boy or a child, I wonder! a pretty one, a very pretty one, fure fome 'fcape: tho' I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the 'fcape. This has been some ftair-work, fome trunk-work, fome 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 hol low'd but even now. Whoa, ho-hoa!

Clo. Hilloa, loa!

Enter Clown.

Shep. What, art fo 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 feen two fuch fights, by fea and by land; but I am not to fay it is a fea, 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 rakes up the shore; but that's not to the point; oh the moft piteous cry of the poor fouls, fometimes to fee 'em, and not to fee 'em : now the fhip boring the moon with her main-maft, and anon swallow'd with yeft and froth, as you'd thruft a cork into a hogfhead. And then the land fight, to fee how the bear tore out his shoulderbone, how he cry'd to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship, to see 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 weather.

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

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

Shep. Would I had been by to have help'd the nobleman. Clo. I would you had been by the fhip-fide, to have help'd her; but there your charity would have lack'd footing. Shep. Heavy matters, heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now blefs thy felf; thou meet'ft 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; fo, 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. Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove fo. Up with it, keep it clofe: home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy, and to be fo ftill requires nothing but fecrefie, 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, I'll bury it,

Shep. That's a good deed. If thou may'ft difcern 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 himi'th' ground. Shep.'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't, [Exeunt,

Time.

I

ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter Time as Chorus.

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 ufe my wings. Impute it not a crime
To me, or my fwift 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

E 3

The

The fame I am, ere ancient'ft order was,

Or what is now receiv'd, I witnefs to
The times that brought them in, fo fhall I do
To th' fresheft things now reigning, and make ftale
The gliftering of this prefent, as my tale

Now feems to it: your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass, and give my fcene fuch growing
As you had flept between. Leontes leaving
Th' effects of his fond jealoufies, fo grieving
That he fhuts up himself; imagine me,
Gentle fpectators, that I now may be
In fair Bithynia, and remember well,
There is a fon o' th' King's, whom Florizel
I now name to you, and with speed so pace
To fpeak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wondring. What of her enfues
I lift not prophefie. But let Time's news
Be known when 'tis brought forth. A fhepherd's daughter,
And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is th' argument of time; of this allow,
If ever you have spent time worse ere now :
If never, yet that Time himself doth fay,
He wishes earnestly you never may.

SCENE II. Court of Bithynia.
Enter Polixenes and Camillo.

[Exit,

Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate; 'tis a fickness denying thee any thing, a death to grant this, Cam. It is fixteen years fince I faw my country; though I have for the most part been aired abroad, I defire to lay my bones there. Befides, the penitent King, my mafter, hath fent for me, to whofe feeling forrows I might be fome allay, or I o'er ween to think fo, which is another spur to my departure.

Pol. As thou lov'ft me, Camillo, wipe not out the reft of thy fervices by leaving me now; the need I have of thee, thine own goodnefs hath made: better not to have had thee, than thus to want thee. Thou having made me bufineffes, which none, without thee, can fufficiently manage, muft either stay to execute them thy felf, or take away with thee the very fervices thou haft done; which if I

have

have not enough confidered, as too much I cannot, to be more thankful to thee fhall be my ftudy, and my profit therein, the heaping friendship. Of that fatal country Sicilia pr’ythee speak no more, whofe very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled King my brother, whofe loss of his moft precious Queen and children are even now to be afiesh lamented. Say to me, when faw'st thou the Prince Florizel my fon? Kings are no lefs unhappy, their iffue not being gracious, than they are in lofing them, when they have approved their virtues.

Cam. Sir, it is three days fince I faw the Prince; what his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown : but I have (mufingly) noted, he is of late much retired from Court, and is lefs frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appear'd.

Pol. I have confider'd fo much, Camillo, and with fome care fo far, that I have eyes under my fervice, which look upon his removedness; from whom I have this intelligence, that he is feldom from the house of a most homely fhepherd; a man, they fay, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unfpeakable eftate.

Cam. I have heard, Sir, of fuch a man, who hath a daughter of moft rare note; the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from fuch a cottage.

Pol. That's likewife part of my intelligence; and, I fear, the angle that plucks our fon thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the place, where we will (not appearing what we are) have some question with the fhepherd; from whofe fimplicity, I think it not uneafie to get the cause of my fon's refort thither. Pr'ythee be my prefent partner in this business, and lay afide the thoughts of Sicilia. Cam. I willingly obey your command.

Pol My beft Camillo,we must disguise ourselves. [Exeunt, SCENE IL The Country, Enter Autolicus finging, When daffadils begin to peere,

With bey the doxy over the dale,
Why then comes in the fweet o' th' year:

For the red blood reigns o'er the winter's pale.

The