![]() Terrified, it took me a while to collect myself, and I wasn't sure if it was a dream or not. Since she's lost forever, you should call her 'Perdita.' And for what my husband has made you do, you'll never see your wife, Paulina, again." Then, shrieking, she disappeared into thin air. Crying with rage, she finally burst out, "Antigonus, you have the bad luck to be disposing of my baby far away in Bohemia. She bowed three times, gasping as she tried to speak. In pure white robes, like a goddess, she walked toward the place where I was sleeping. I've never seen anything so sad and so completely beautiful. Something walked toward me, moving its head from side to side. If these things do happen, then your mother appeared to me last night in a dream that was so real, it felt like I was awake. I've heard (but haven't believed) stories about spirits of the dead walking the earth. A savage clamour! Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: I am gone for ever.Ĭome here, poor baby. Farewell! The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have A lullaby too rough: I never saw The heavens so dim by day. The storm begins poor wretch, That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds and most accursed am I To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Blossom, speed thee well! There lie, and there thy character: there these Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, And still rest thine. I do believe Hermione hath suffer'd 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. ![]() Dreams are toys: Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, I will be squared by this. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself and thought This was so and no slumber. 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. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill'd 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. Come, poor babe: I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o' the dead May walk again: i f such thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream So like a waking.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |