Imatges de pÓgina

New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo;
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy :
For, being transported by my jealousies
To bloody thoughts, and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister, to poison
My friend Polixenes :

He, most humane,

And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest
Unclasp'd my practice; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard
Of all uncertainties himself commended,
No richer than his honour:-How he glistens
Through my dark rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!

Pau. [Within, R.] Woe the while!
Leo. What fit is this, good lady?


Pau. (R.) What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels, racks, fires ?—

What old, or newer torture

Must I receive? whose every word deserves

To taste of thy most worst? (R. C.) Thy tyranny

Together working with thy jealousies

O, think what they have done,

And then run mad indeed! stark mad! for all

Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it,

When I have said, cry, woe !-the queen, the queen, The sweetest, dearest creature's dead; and vengeance for't

Not drop'd down yet.

Leo. The higher powers forbid !

[Sinks into the arms of Phocion and Thasius. Pau. 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 the gods.-But, O thou tyrant!

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.

Leo. Go on, go on;

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.

Pho. Say no more;

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I'the boldness of your speech.

Pau. I'm 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. [Rising as from a reverie.] Thou didst speak but well,

When most the truth; which I receive much better,

Than to be pited of thee.-'Prithee, 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.

[Exeunt, R.

SCENE III.-Bohemia.-A desert Country, near the Sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS, R. U. E. with the CHILD, and a


Ant. Thou art perfect 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. Go thou awayI'll follow instantly.

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

Ant. (c.) Come, poor babe :

[Exit Mariner, R.

I've 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 filled, 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 ;-

Dreams are toys;

Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar'd 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!
There lie ;-

And there thy character;

There these ;

[Laying down the Child. [Lays down a Paper. [Lays down a Casket.

Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, And still rest thine.

The storm begins :-Poor wretch,

[Rain and Wind.

That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd

To loss, and what may follow!-Fare thee well,
Sweet! My heart bleeds: and most accurs'd am I,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell !—

[Thunder, and dismal howling.
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?

This is the chase.


[Noise of Hunters.

[A Bear seen at a distance.

Well may I get abroad!

[Exit, the Bear following towards the Ship. Rain-Wind-Thunder.

Enter a SHEPHerd, l. u. e.

She. 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. [Horns sound.] 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, browzing of ivy. Good luck, an't by thy will ! [Seeing the Child.] 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 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 holloa'd but even now. Whoa, hohoa!

Clo. Hilloa, loa!.

CLOWN within, R.

She. What, art so near? If thou❜lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and buried, come hither.

Enter CLOWN, r.

What ail'st thou, man?

Clo. (L. c.) 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.

She. 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. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see them, and not to see them: now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast; and anon swallowed 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 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 flapdragoned it but, first, how the poor souls roar'd, and the sea mock'd them; and how the poor old gentleman roar'd, and the bear mock'd him; both roaring louder than the sea, or weather.

She. 'Name of mercy, when was this, boy?


Clo. Now, now; I have not winked since I saw these sights the men are not yet cold under water; nor the bear half dined on the gentleman; he's at it now.


She. 'Would I had been by, to have helped the old man! But look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying-I with things new-born. [Going to the Child.] 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! She. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so.— Up with it, keep it close; home, home, the next way. We are 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. They are never curst, but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it. [Goes up the stage.

She. That's a good deed. If thou may'st discern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to the sight of him.

Clo. Marry, will I.

She. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good

deeds on't.

[Exit, R. U. E.

[Exit, L. U. E.


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