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So fillid, and so becoming: in pure white robes,
[Laying down the Child. 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 storın begins:-Poor
wretch, That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd To loss, and what may follow!-Weep I cannot,
- thy character:] thy description; i. e. the writing afterwards discovered with Perdita.
But my heart bleeds: and most accurs d am I,
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 any where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browzing on ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [Taking up the Child.] 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 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!
A boy, or a child,] I am told, th in some of our inland counties, a female infant, in contradistinction to a male one, is still termed, among the peasantry,-a child. STEEVENS.
Old Shepherd. O'hat hare we here: Mercyonis, a barne;
a very pretty barne: Publish'd by 9.& 6. Riving ton. I enden July 2.1803.
to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest 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 it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the point: 0, 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 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:4—but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked 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
Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped the old man!
Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her; there your charity would have lacked footing
[ Aside. Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'st
flap-dragoned it:] i. e. swallowed it, as our ancient topers swallowed