Time.
I that please some, 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 passage, that I slide
O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untry'd
Of that wide gap; since it is in my power
To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour
To plant and o'er-whelm custom. Let me pass
The same I am, ere ancient'st order was,
Or what is now receiv'd. I witness to
The times that brought them in, so shall I do
To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my tale

Now seems to it: your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing
As you had slept between. Leontes leaving
Th' effects of his fond jealousies so grieving
That he shuts up himself; imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bohemia, and remember well,
I mention here a son o'th' King's, whom Florizel
I now name to you, and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wondring. What of her ensues
I list not prophesie. But let Time's news
Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd'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 say,
He wishes earnestly you never may. [Exit.

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