In storm perpetual, could not move the gods Leon. 1 Lord. Say no more; Hov e'er the business goes, you have made fault I am sorry for't;' Paul. Al faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd To th' noble heart.-What's gone, and what's past help, Should be past grief: Do not receive affliction At my petition, I beseech you; rather Let me be punish'd, that have minded you Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege, Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: The love I bore your queen,-lo, fool again!— Who is lost too: Take your patience to you, Leon. Thou didst speak but well, When most the truth; which I receive much better Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me To the dead bodies of my queen, and son: One grave shall be for both; upon them shall The causes of their death appear, unto Our shame perpetual: Once a day I'll visit The chapel where they lie; and tears, shed there, Shall be my recreation: So long as Nature will bear up with this exercise, So long I daily vow to use it. Come, [Exeunt. SCENE III-Bohemia. A desert country near the sea.. Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon The deserts of Bohemia? Mar. Ant. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get aboard; Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before I call upon thee. Mar. Make your best haste; and go not Of prey, that keep upon't. Ant. I'll follow instantly. Mar. Go thou away: I am glad at heart [Exit. Come, poor babe: To be so rid o'th' business. Ant. I have heard, (but not believ'd,) the spirits of the dead So fill'd, and so becoming: in pure white robes, There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe I pr'ythee, call't: for this ungentle business, I did in time collect myself; and thought I will be squar'd by this. I do believe, [Laying down the Child. There lie; and there thy character: there these; [Laying down a bundle. Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, 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 accurs'd am I, To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell! The day frowns more and more; thou art like to have A lullaby too rough: I never saw The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour Well may I get aboard! I am gone for ever. -This is the chace; [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 boiled brains of nineteen, and two-and-twenty, hunt this weather? They have scared 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 on ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [Taking up the Child.] 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 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 hollaed but even now. Whoa, họ hoa Clo. Hilloa, loa! Enter Clown. 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 chafes, how it rages, how it takes 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 to see'em: now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast; and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service,— 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; he's at it now. Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped the old man! Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her; there your charity would have lacked footing. [Aside. Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee |