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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 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 prithee, 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 squared 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! |
There lie, and there thy character: there these; |
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 exposed |
To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, |
But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I |
To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell! |
The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have |
A lullaby too rough: I never saw |
The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! |
Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: |
I am gone for ever. |
Shepherd: |
I would there were no age between sixteen 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, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy |
will what have we here! 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 hallooed |
but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa! |
Clown: |
Hilloa, loa! |
Shepherd: |
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? |
Clown: |
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. |
Shepherd: |
Why, boy, how is it? |
Clown: |
I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, |
how it takes up the shore! but that's not 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'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 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. |
Shepherd: |
Name of mercy, when was this, boy? |
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