Abbildungen der Seite
[ocr errors]

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

prey, that keep upon't.
Ant. Gothou away.
I'll follow instantly.

Mar. I'm glad at heart to be so rid o’th* bufiness. (Exit.

Ant. Come, poor babe; I have heard,
But not believ'd, the spirits of the dead:
May walk again; if fuch things 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 forrow
So filld, and so becoming; in pure white robes,
Like very fanctity, Me 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 loft for ever and ever, Perdita,
“ I pr’ythee, call’t. For this ungentie 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 flumber : Dreams are toys,
Yet for this once, yea, fuperftitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do believe,
Hermione hath suffer'd death ; and that
A pollo 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 character : there these,

[Laying down a bundle. Which


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 lofs, 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 inore and more; thou art like to have A lullaby too rough: I never saw The heaven's 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 Shepberd. Shep. I would there were nò 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.ww hark you now! would any but these boild brains of nineteen, and two and twenty, hunt this weather? They have scarr'd away two of my best fheep, which, I fear, the wolf will sooner fiod than the master; if any where I have them, 'tis by the

sea-side, brouzing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [Taking up the child.] Mercy on's, a bearne! a very pretty bearne ! 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 trunkwork, 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!

Enter Clown. Clo. Hilloa, loa!

Shep. What, art so near ? if thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou’rt dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'st thou, man?

Clo. I have seen two such fights, 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 boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallow'd 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 thoulder-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 fea flap-dragon'd it. But first, how the poor souls roarid, 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 wink'd since I saw these sights; the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half din’d 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 help'd her; there your charity would have lack'd footing.-[Aside.

Shep. Heavy matters, heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou meet'rt 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 old man; if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold !

Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and will prove so. Up with it, keep it close : home, home, the next way. 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 bath 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'light of him.

Clo. Marry, will l; and you shall help to put him i'th'. ground.

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

[Exeunt. Enter Time, as chorus. Time. I, that please fome, try all, both joy and terror

We are

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 fide
O'er fixteen 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’erwhelm 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 the freshest things now reigning, and make ftale
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,

you had slept between. Leontes leaving
Th' effects of his fond jealousies, so grieving
That he shuts up himself; imagine me,
Gentle fpectators, that I now may be
In fair Bohemia; and remember well,
I mention here a fon o'th? king's, whom Florizel
I now name to you ; and with speed lo pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wond'ring. What of her ensues,
I lift not prophecy. 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.


« ZurückWeiter »