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 retir'd from court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appear'd. Polix. I have consider'd so much Camillo, and with some care; so far, that I have eyes under my service, which look upon his 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, is grown rich beyond the imagination of his neighbours. Paul. I have heard too 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. Poliz. That's likewise part of my intelligence; and, I fear, the angel that plucks our son thither. Thou, Camillo, shalt accompany us to the place, where we will (not appearing what we are) have some questions with the shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Cam. I willingly obey your command. Polix. My best Camillo !-we must disguise ourselves. Paul. Lest your royalty be discover'd by the attendance of any of your own train; my steward, Dion, shall provide disguises, and accompany your design with all secrecy. Polix. It is well advis'd-I will make choice of some few to attend us, who shall wait at a distance from the cottageyou instruct Dion in the matter, while we prepare ourselves. [Exit Pollixenes and Camillo. Paul. (sola.) What fire is in my ears! can it be so? Or are my senses cheated with a dream? Leontes in Bohemia !- O most welcome, My penitent leige-my tears were those of joy Shall give thee welcome to this injur'd coast: L 2 [Exit Paulina. SCENE SCENE II. The Country by the Sea-Side. A Storm. Enter an OLD SHEPHERD. I would there were no age between thirteen and three and twenty; or that youth wou'd sieep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between, but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting—Hark you now! wou'd any but these boil'd brains of 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 'em, 'tis by the sea-side, browzing of ivy-Yet I'll tarry till my son come: he hollow'd but even now- Whoa! hohoa. Enter CLOWN. Clown. Hoilloa! hoa! Old Shep. What, art so near? What ail'st thou man? Clown. I have seen such a sight! Old Shep. Why, boy, how is it? Clown. I wou'd you did but see how the sea chafes, how But I am not to say it rages, how it rakes up the shore it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and -But O the most, it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point. piteous cry of the poor souls, sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em- But then, the ship-to see how the sea flapdragon'd it--but first how the poor souls roar'd, and the sea mock'd 'em Then the slip, now boring the moon with her main mast, and anon swallow'd with yest and froth, as you'd thurst a cork into a hogshead. Old Shep. Name of mercy! when was this, boy? Clown. Now, now, I have not wink'd since I saw it! the inen are not yet cold under water. Old Shep. Wou'd I had been by the ship-side to have help'd em. Clown. There.your charity wou'd have lak'd footing. Clown. Look! look, father-there are two of 'em cast ashore, and crawling up the rock-now they are down a gain-poor souls, they have no strength to keep their hold; -I will go help them. Old Shep. Old Shep. Run, run, boy! thy legs are youngest. Clown. Stay, they have found the road to the beach, and eome towards us. Old Shep. Some rich men, I warrant 'em; that are poofer than we now. Clown. Lord, father! look-they are out-landish-folk, their fine clothes are shrunk in the wetting. Enter LEONTES, supported by CLEOMINES. Cleom. Bear up, my liege ;-again welcome on shore. Leon. Flatter me not- In death distinctions cease Am I on shore; walk I on land, firm land, Or ride I yet upon the billows backs? -Your friend Cleomines. Leon. Where are my other friends?-What, perish'd all, Cleom. Not a soul sav'd! ourselves are all our crew, Pilot, shipmaster, boatswain, sailors, all. Leon. Land we the Gods! Yet wherefore perish'd they. Innocent souls! and I, with all my guilt, Live yet to load the earth? O righteous Gods! Cleom. Waste not your small remaining strength of body Has some inhabitants Good day, old man Old Ship Never said in worse time-a better to both your worships-command us, Sir. Clown. You have been sweetly soak'd; give the Gods thanks that you are alive to feel it. Leon. We are most thankful, Sir. Cleom. What desarts are these same? Old Shep. The desarts of Bobemia. Leon. Say'st thou Bobemia? ye Gods Bobemia! In ev'ry act your judgements are sent forth Against Leontes! Here to be wreck'd and sav'd! Upon, this coast! All the wrongs I have done, Upon this coast expose my harmless infant- L 3 'Twas 'Twas this that sped thee to thy proper heav'n; Cleom. Good Sir, be calm: What's gone, and what's past help, should be past grief; You do repent these things too sorely. Leon. I cant repent these things, for they are heavier Than all my woes can stir:. I must betake me To nothing but despair a thousand knees Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, Upon a barren mountain, and still winter, In storms perpetual, could not move the Gods To look this way upon me. Clown. What says he, pray? The sea has quite wash'd away the poor gentleman's brains, Come, bring him along to our farm; and we'll give you both a warm bed, and dry cloathing. Cleom. Friends, we accept your offer'd courtesy. ( Come, Sir-bear up-be calm-compose your mind; If still the tempest rages there, in vain The Gods have sav'd you from the deep. Leon. I'll take thy council, fiiend ;-lend me thy arm Oh, Hermoine ! [Leans on bfm. Cleom. Good shepherd, shew us to the cottage. Clown. And now the storm's blown over, father; we'll send down Nicholas and his fellow to pick up the dead bodies, if any may be thrown ashore, and bury them. Old Shep. 'Tis a good deed, boy-Help the gentlemen, and bring them after me. SCENE. III. Another Part of the Country. Enter AUTOLICUS (Singing. When daffodils begin to peere With bey the doxy over the dale, Why then comes in the sweet o' th' year, [Exeunt. For the red blood reigns o'er the winter's pale. The The white sheet bleacbing on the bedge; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. I once serv'd prince Florizel, and in my time wore threepile; but now am out of service, SONG. But shall I go mourn for that my dear? I then do go most right. My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father nam'd me Autolicus, being litter'd under Mercury; who, as I am, was like a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles: with dice and drab I purchas'd this caparison, and my revenue is the sily cheat-for the life to come, I sleep out of the thought of it—a prize! a prize! Enter CLOWN. Clown. Let me see, every eleven weather tods-every tod yields pound, and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shornwhat comes the wool to ? Autol. If the sprindge hold, the cock's mine. [Aside. Clown, I can't do't without counters- Let me see, what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing-feast?---Three pounds of sugar, five pounds of currants, rice.. -What will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on.. -She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the shearers-I must have saffron to colour the warden pies-mace-dates-nonethat's out of my note; nutmegs, seven; a iace or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many raisins o' th' sun. Autol. (grovelling on the ground) Oh! that ever I was born! Clown. In the name of me→→→ Autol. O help me, help me: pluck but off these rags, and then death, dea h Clown. Alack, poor soul, thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than to have these off. Autol. Oh, Sir, the loathsomeness of 'em offend me, more L4 4 than |