Ant.

Thou art perfect then, our Ship hath touch'd upon The Desarts 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 Heav'ns with that we have in hand are angry,
And frown upon's.

Ant.
Their sacred Wills be done; get thee 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'th 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'th' Business. [Exit.

Ant.
Come, poor Babe;
I have heard, but not believ'd, the Spirits o'th' 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 Cabbin 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 for ever ever, Perdita
I prethee 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 my self, 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 lye, and there thy Character: There these,
Which may, if Fortune please, both breed thee, Pretty one,
And still rest thine. The Storm begins poor Wretch,
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 accurst am I
To be by Oath enjoin'd to this. Farewel.
The Day frowns more and more; thou art like to have
A lullaby too rough: I never saw
The Heav'ns so dim by Day. A savage Clamour!
Well may I get aboard: This is the Chace,
I am gone for ever. [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, brouzing of Ivy. Good luck, and't be the will, what have we here? [Taking up the Child.] Mercy on's, a Barn! a very pretty Barn! a Boy or a Child, I wonder! a pretty one, a very pretty one, sure some 'scape: Tho' 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 hollow'd but even now. Whoa, ho-hoa.

Clo.

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?

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; Oh the most piteous cry of the poor Souls, sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Ship boaring the Moon with her Main-mast, and anon swallow'd with Yest and Froth, as you'ld thrust a Cork into a Hogshead. And then for the Land-service, to see how the Bear tore out his Shoulder-bone, 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 Sea flap-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?

Clo.

Now, now, I have not winked since I saw these sights, the Men are not 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 old Man.

Clo.

I would you had been by the Ship-side, to have helped her, there your Charity would have lack'd footing.

Shep.

Heavy Matters, heavy Matters; but look thee here, Boy. Now bless thy self; thou meet'st with things dying, I with things new born. Here is a sight for thee; Look thee, a Bearing-cloath 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 Changling; open't, what is within, Boy?

Clo.

You're a mad old Man; If the Sins of your Youth are forgiven you, you are well to live. Gold, all Gold.

Shep.

This is Fairy Gold, Boy, and 'twill prove so. Up with't, keep it close: Home, home, the next way. We are lucky, Boy, and to be so still requires nothing but Secresie.

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 may'st discern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th'sight of him.

Clo.

Marry will I, and you shall help to put him i'th' Ground.

Shep.

'Tis a lucky Day, Boy, and we'll do good Deeds on't.