Together working with thy jealousies,

Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine!-0, think, what they have done,
And then run mad, indeed; stark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing;
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant20,
And damnable21 ungrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would'st have poison'd good Camillo's honour22,
To have him kill a king: poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter,
To be or none, or little; though a devil
Would have shed water out of fire23, ere done't:
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death

Of the young prince; whose honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart
That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: But the last,-O, lords,
When I have said, cry, woe!-the queen, the queen,
The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and ven-
geance for't

Not dropp'd down yet.

1 Lord.

The higher powers forbid! Paul. I say, she's dead; I'll swear't: if word, nor oath,

Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye,

Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you
As I would do the gods.-But, O thou tyrant!

20 The same construction occurs in the second book of Phaer's version of the Aeneid:

"When this the young men heard me speak, of wild they waxed wood.'

21 Damnable is used here adverbially. So in All's Well that Ends Well:-"Tis not meant damnable in us.'

22 The poet forgot that Paulina was absent during the king's self-accusation.

23 i. e. a devil would have shed tears of pity, ere he would have perpetrated such an action.

Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.

Leon.

Go on, go on : Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd All tongues to talk their bitterest.

1 Lord.

Say no more; Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I'the boldness of your speech.

Paul. I am sorry for't; All 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 the 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!-
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember you of my own lord,

Who is lost too: Take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.

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,
And lead me to these sorrows.

SCENE III. Bohemia.

A desert Country near the Sea.

[Exeunt.

Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art perfect1 then, our ship hath touch'd

upon

The deserts 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 heavens with that we have in hand are angry, And frown upon us.

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

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.

I'll follow instantly.

Mar.

To be so rid o' the business.

Ant.

Go thou away:

I am glad at heart

[Exit.

Come, poor babe:

I have heard (but not believ'd), the spirits of 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. 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

1 i. e. well assured.

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
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, Perdita,

I pr'ythee, 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, 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 lie; and there thy character2: 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 clamour3 !—

2 i. e. description. The writing afterward discovered with

Perdita.

A savage clamour. This clamour was the cry of the dogs and hunters; then seeing the bear, he cries this is the chase, i. e. the animal pursued.

Well may I get aboard!-
I am gone for ever.

-This is the chase; [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 sea-side, browzing of 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 child5, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one: Sure some scape: though I am not bookish, yet I can read waitinggentle-woman 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 holla'd but even now. Whoa, ho, 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

4 This is from the novel. It is there said to be 'sea ivie, on which they do greatly feed.'

5 A barne. This word is still in use in the northern dialects for a child. It is supposed to be derived from born, things born seeming to answer the Latin nati. Steevens says that he had been told that in some of our inland counties a child signified a female infant in contradistinction to a male one;' but the assertion wants confirmation, and we may rather refer this use of it to the simplicity of the shepherd.