Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.
Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vpon
The Desarts of Bohemia
Mar. I (my Lord) and feare
We haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,
And threaten present blusters. In my conscience
The 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 before
I call vpon thee
Mar. Make your best haste, and go not
Too-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather,
Besides this place is famous for the Creatures
Of prey, that keepe vpon't
Antig. Go thou away,
Ile follow instantly
Mar. I am glad at heart
To be so ridde o'th businesse.
Exit