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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

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. Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Babe ; and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath

touched upon The deserts of Bohemia ?


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 's.
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 : 't is like to be loud weather ;
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
Of prey that keep upon 't.

Go thou away :
I'll follow instantly.

I am glad at heart
To be so rid o' the business.

- Ant.

Come, poor babe :-
I have heard—but not believed—the spirits o' the

May walk again : if such thing be, thy mother
Appeared 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 filled, and so becoming : in pure white robes,

Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay, thrice bowed 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

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 squared by this. I do believe,
Hermione hath suffered 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 Babe. 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 exposed To loss, and what may follow !-Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds, and most accursed am I, To be by oath enjoined 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 cla

mour,— Well may I get aboard !—this is the chase :I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear.

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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 anywhere I have them, 't is by the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an 't be thy will !—What have we here? [Taking up the Babe.] Mercy on ’s, a barn ; a very pretty barn! 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 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, ho hoa !

Clo. [Without.] Hilloa, loa !

Shep. What! art so near ? If thou 'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. :

Enter Clown. What ail'st 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

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