Abbildungen der Seite
[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors][ocr errors]

Enter an old Shepherd. Shep. I would there were no age between thirteen and three and twenty, or that youth would neep 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 boild 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 master : if any where I have them, 'tis by the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will l 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, fome '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 fon come: he hollow'd but even now. Whoa, ho-hoa!



Enter Clown. Clo. Hilloa, loa !

Shep. What, art fo near? if thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art 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


how it rakes up the shore! but that's not to 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 mainmast, and anon swallow'd with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then the land-sight, 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 fhip; to see how the sea fapdragon'd it. But, first, how the poor souls roar’d, 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 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.

Shep. Would I had been by to have help'd the nobleman!

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

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 should be rich by the fairies. This is some changling; 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 '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 secrefy. Let my sheep go: come, good boy, the next way home. Clo. Go you


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 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.


the next way


[blocks in formation]


THAT please some, try all, both joy and terrour

Of good and bad, that make and unfold errour,
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 slide
O’er sixteen 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, fo 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

had slept between. Leontes leaving
Th'effects of his fond jealousies, fo grieving
That he shuts up himself; imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bithynia, and remember well,
There is a son o'th'kings, whom Florizel
I now name to you, and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wond'ring: what of her ensues
I list not prophesy: but let time's news
Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter,
And what to her adheres, which follows after,

[ocr errors]


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.



Court of Bithynia.

Enter Polixenes, and Camillo. Pol. I Pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: 'tis a I sickness, denying thec any thing; a death, to grant this.

, Cam. It is fixteen 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 fo; 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 businesses, which none, without thee, can sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute them thyself, or take away with thee the very services thou hast done; which if I have not enough considered, as too much I cannot, to be more thankful to thee shall be my study, and my profit therein, the heaping friendship. Of that fatal country Sicilia, pr’ythee, speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled king my brother, whose loss of his most precious queen, and children, are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when faw'st thou the prince Florizel my fon? kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them, when they have approved their virtues.

Cam. Sir, it is three days, since I saw the prince; what his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown : but I have,



musingly, noted, he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appear’d.

Pol. I have consider'd so much, Camillo; and with some care; so far, that I have eyes under my service, which look upon removedness: from whom I have this intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that, from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate.

Cam. I have heard, fir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note: 'the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.

Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence; and, I fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the place; where we will (not appearing what we are) have some question with the shepherd; from whose fimplicity, I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Pr’ythee, be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.

Cam. I willingly obey your command.
Pol. My best Camillo ! we must disguise ourselves. [Exeunt.

[ocr errors][ocr errors]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors]
« ZurückWeiter »