Ant.
Thou art perfect, then, our ship hath touch'd upon
The deserts of Bohemia?

Mar.
Ay, my lord ^note; and fear
We have ^note 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's ^note.

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

Ant.
Go thou away:

I'll follow instantly.

Mar.
I am ^note glad at heart
To be so rid o' the business. [Exit.

Ant.
Come, poor babe:
I have heard, but not believed, 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 ^note. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on ^note one side, some ^note another ^note;
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill'd and so becoming ^note: 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 ^note
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep ^note and leave it crying; and, for the babe
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,
I prithee, 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 ^note and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squared by this. I do believe
Hermione hath suffer'd death; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
Of King Polixenes ^note, it should here be laid,

Either for life or death, upon the earth ^note
Of its ^note right father. Blossom, speed thee well! ^note
There lie, and there thy character: there these;
Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty ^{note note},
And still rest thine. The storm begins: poor wretch,
That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed
To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I
To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell!
The day frowns more and more: thou'rt ^note like to have
A lullaby too rough: I never saw
The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour!
Well may I get aboard! This is the chase:
I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear. Enter ^note a Shepherd. ^note

Shep.

I would there were no age between ten ^note 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 boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather? They have scared ^note 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 seaside, browzing of ivy. Good luck, an't ^note be thy will ^note! what have we here? ^note Mercy on's, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy ^note or a child ^note, 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 up for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hallooed ^note but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa!

Clo. ^note

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 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 chases, how it rages, how it takes ^note 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 ^note to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for ^note the land-service ^note, 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 flap-dragoned it: but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather.

Shep.

Name of mercy, when was this, boy?

Clo.

Now, now: I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman ^note: he's at it now.

Shep.

Would I had been by, to have helped the old man ^note!

Clo.

I would ^note you had been by the ship ^note side, to have ^notehelped her: there your charity would have lacked footing.

Shep.

Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest ^note with things dying, I with things new-born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's child! look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let's see: it was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changeling: open't. What's within, boy?

Clo.

You're a made ^note old man: if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're ^note well to live. Gold! all gold!

Shep.

This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill ^note prove so: up with't ^note, keep it close: home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go: come, good boy, the next way home.

Clo.

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

Shep.

That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the sight ^note of him.

Clo.

Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i'the ground.

Shep.

'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't.

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