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“ Placés remote enough are in Bohemia, “ There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe: “ Is counted lost for ever and ever, Perdita, “ I prythee, call't. For this ungentle business, “ Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt fee

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 Number : 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 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. Bloštom, speed thee well!

[Laying down the childi There lye, and there thy character: there these, Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty

one, And Aill rest thine. The storm begins;-Poor wreteh, 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 accurst am I To be by oath enjoind to this.) Farewel ! The day frowns more and more ; thou art like to have A lullaby too rough : I never saw The heav'ns fo 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 Shepherd. Shep. I would there were no age between ten and three and twenty, or that youth would deep out the rest : for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fightinghark you now !-would any but these boil'd brains of nineteen, and two and twenty, hunt this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep, which, I fear, the wolf will sooner find than the 'mafter ; if any where


I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, brouzing of isy. 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, á very pretty one ; fure, 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 art dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'lt 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 bodkins point.

r Shep. Why, boy, how is it?

Clo. I would, you did but see how it chafe's, how it rages, how it takes up the shorë; but that's not to the point; oh, the most piteous cry of the poor fouls, fometimes 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 shoulder-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 sea Aap-dra! gon'd it. But first, how the poor souls roar’d, and the

fea mock'd them. And how the poor gentleman roard, 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 fights'; the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half din'd on the gentleman; he's at it now,

(9) Ship

(9) Shep. 'Would, I had been by to have help'd the nobleman.

Clo. I svõuld, you had been by the ship-fide, to have help'd her; there your charity would have lack'd footing.-

[Afide. Shep. Heavy matters, heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself ; thou meet 'st with things dying, I with things new born. Here's a fight 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 thould be rich by the fairies. This is some changling: open't; what's within, boy! (10) Clo. You're a made old man ; if the sins of

your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold all

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gold !

Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and will prove so. Up with it, keep it close : home, home, the next


We are lucky, boy; and to be so still, requires nothing but secresie. Let my sheep go: come, good boy, the next

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 hath 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

way home,

(9) Shep. Would, I bad been by to bave belp'd tbe old Mar.] Tho' all the printed Copies concur in this reading, I am perfuaded, we ought to restorè, Nobleman. The Shepherd knew nothing of Antigonus's Age ; besides, the Clown had just told his father, that he said, his Name was Antigonus a Nobleman, and no less than three times in this short Scene, the Clown, speaking of him, calls him the Gentleman. (10),

You're a mad old Man ;. if the Sins of your youtb are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all Gold!] This the Clown says upon his opening his Fardel, and discovering the Wealth in it. But this is no Reason why he should call his father a mad old Man, I have .ventur'd to correct in the Text.- You're a made old Man: i. e. your Fortune's made by this adventiti. ous Treasure, So our Poet, in a Number of other Pallages.


that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' fight of him.

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

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

Enter Time, as Chorus.
Time. I, that please fome, try all, both joy and

Of good and bad, that mask and unfold error ; (11)
Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime
To me, or my swift paffage, that I dide
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-borri hour
To plant and o’erwhelm cuftom. Let me pass
The fame 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 flept between. Leontes leaving
Thi effects of his fond jealousies, fo 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

(11) That make and unfold Error.] This does not in my Opinion take in the Poet's Thought. Time does not make mistakes, and discover them, at different Conjunctures; but the Poet means, that Time often for a Season covers Errors, which he afterwards displays and brings to Ligbt. I choose therefore to read; shar maske and unfold Error,


Equal with wondring. What of her ensues,
I lift not prophesie

But let Time's news 3 Beknown, when’tis brought forth. A lhepherd's daughters

And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is th' argument of time; of this allow,
If ever you have spent time worfe ere now:
If never, yet that Time himself doth say,
He wishes earnestly, you never may.



SCENE, the Court of Bohemia.

Enter Polixenes and Camillo.



grant this.

'tis a sickness denying thee any thing, a death to

Cam. It is fifteen years since I saw my country; though I have for the most part been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to think so, which is another spur to my departure.

Pol. As thou lov'st me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now; the need I have of thee, thine own goodness hath made : better not to have had thee, than thus to want thee. Thou having made me business, which none, without thee,' can sufficiently manage, muft either stay to execute them thy self, or take away with thee the very services thou hast done; which if I have not enough consider'd, (as too much I cannot,) to be more thankful to thee shall be my study; and my profit therein, the heaping friend/hips. Of that fatal country Sicilia, pr'ythee, speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that


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