Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Winters Tale/Act 3 Scene 3
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.
Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vponThe Desarts of Bohemia.
Mar. I (my Lord) and feareWe haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,And threaten present blusters. In my conscienceThe heauens with that we haue in hand, are angry,And frowne vpon's.
Ant. Their sacred wil's be done: go get a-boord,Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long beforeI call vpon thee.
Mar. Make your best haste, and go notToo-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather,Besides this place is famous for the CreaturesOf prey, that keepe vpon't.
Antig. Go thou away,Ile follow instantly.
Mar. I am glad at heartExit.To be so ridde o'th businesse.
Ant. Come, poore babe;I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o'th' deadMay walke againe: if such thing be, thy MotherAppear'd to me last night: for ne're was dreameSo like a waking. To me comes a creature,Sometimes her head on one side, some another,I neuer saw a vessell of like sorrowSo fill'd, and so becomming: in pure white RobesLike very sanctity she did approachMy Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,And (gasping to begin some speech) her eyesBecame two spouts; the furie spent, anonDid this breake from her. Good Antigonus,Since Fate (against thy better disposition)Hath made thy person for the Thrower-outOf my poore babe, according to thine oath,Places remote enough are in Bohemia,There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babeIs counted lost for euer, PerditaI prethee call't: For this vngentle businessePut on thee, by my Lord, thou ne're shalt seeThy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shriekesShe melted into Ayre. Affrighted much,I did in time collect my selfe, and thoughtThis was so, and no slumber: Dreames, are toyes,Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,I will be squar'd by this. I do beleeueHermione hath suffer'd death, and thatApollo would (this being indeede the issueOf King Polixenes) it should heere be laide(Either for life, or death) vpon the earthOf it's right Father. Blossome, speed thee well,There lye, and there thy charracter: there these,Which may if Fortune please, both breed thee (pretty)And still rest thine. The storme beginnes, poore wretch,That for thy mothers fault, art thus expos'dTo losse, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot,But my heart bleedes: and most accurst am ITo be by oath enioyn'd to this. Farewell,The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like to haueA lullabie too rough: I neuer sawThe heauens so dim, by day. A sauage clamor?Well may I get a-boord: This is the Chace,Exit pursued by a Beare.I am gone for euer.
Shep.I would there were no age betweene ten and three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wenches with childe, wronging the Auncientry, stealing, fighting, hearke you now: would any but these boyldebraines of nineteene, and two and twenty hunt this weather? They haue scarr'd away two of my best Sheepe, which I feare the Wolfe will sooner finde then the Maister; if any where I haue them, 'tis by the sea-side, brouzing of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A boy, or a Childe I wonder? (A pretty one, a verie prettie one) sure some Scape; Though I am not bookish, yet I can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this hasbeene some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some behinde-doore worke: they were warmer that got this,then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yetIle tarry till my sonne come: he hallow'd but euen now.Whoa-ho-hoa.
Enter Clowne.
Clo. Hilloa, loa.
Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing totalke on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither:what ayl'st thou, man?
Clo. I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land:but I am not to say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, betwixt the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkinspoint.
Shep. Why boy, how is it?
Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes vp the shore, but that's not to the point:Oh, the most pitteous cry of the poore soules, sometimesto see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Shippe boaringthe Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowedwith yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a Corke into a hogshead. And then for the Land-seruice, to see how theBeare tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cride to meefor helpe, and said his name was Antigonus, a Nobleman:But to make an end of the Ship, to see how the Sea flap-dragon'd it: but first, how the poore soules roared, andthe sea mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roared, and the Beare mock'd him, both roaring lowderthen the sea, or weather.
Shep. Name of mercy, when was this boy?
Clo. Now, now: I haue not wink'd since I saw thesesights: the men are not yet cold vnder water, nor theBeare halfe din'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now.
Shep. Would I had bin by, to haue help'd the olde man.
Clo. I would you had beene by the ship side, to hauehelp'd her; there your charity would haue lack'd footing.Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke theeheere boy. Now blesse thy selfe: thou met'st with thingsdying, I with things new borne. Here's a sight for thee:Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires childe: lookethee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open't: so, let's see, itwas told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is someChangeling: open't: what's within, boy?
Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the sinnes of youryouth are forgiuen you, you're well to liue. Golde, allGold.
Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vpwith't, keepe it close: home, home, the next way. Weare luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing butsecrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy) the nextway home.
Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile gosee if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and howmuch he hath eaten: they are neuer curst but when theyare hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it.
Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayest discerne bythat which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sightof him.
Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him i'th' ground.
Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee'l do good deedsExeunt.on't.