Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies Published according to the true originall copies.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Ca∣millo, Mopsa, Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.

Flo.

These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you Do's giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but Flora Peering in Aprils front. This your sheepe-shearing, Is as a meeting of the petty Gods, And you the Queene on't.

Perd.

Sir: my gracious Lord, To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me: (Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfe The gracious marke o' th' Land, you haue obscur'd With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide) Most Goddese-like prank'd vp: But that our Feasts In euery Messe, haue folly; and the Feeders Digest with a Custome, I should blush To see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke, To shew my selfe a glasse.

Flo.

I blesse the time, When my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosse Thy Fathers ground

Perd.

Now Ioue affoord you cause: To me the difference forges dread (your Greatnesse Hath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I tremble To thinke your Father, by some accident Should passe this way, as you did: Oh the Pates, How would he looke, to see his worke, so noble, Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold The sternnesse of his presence?

Flo.

Apprehend Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues (Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken The shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter, Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine, As I seeme now. Their transformations, Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer, Not in a way so chaste: since my desires Run not before mine honor: nor my Lusts Burne hotter then my Faith.

Perd.

O but Sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Oppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King: One of these two must be necessities, Which then will speake, that you must change this pur∣pose, Or I my life.

Flo.

Thou deer'st Perdita, With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not The Mirth o' th' Feast: Or Ile be thine (my Faire) Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be Mine owne, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine. To this I am most constant, Though destiny say no. Be merry (Gentle) Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing That you behold the while. Your guests are comming: Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day Of celebration of that nuptiall, which We two haue sworne shall come.

Perd.

O Lady Fortune, Stand you auspicious.

Flo.

See, your Guests approach, Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth.

Shep.

Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vpon This day, she was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke, Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all: seru'd all, Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heere At vpper end o' th Table; now, i' th middle: On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire With labour, and the thing she tooke to quench it She would to each one sip. You are retyred, As if you were a feasted one: and not The Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bid These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne. Come, quench your blushes, and present your selfe That which you are, Mistris o' th' Feast. Come on, And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing, As your good flocke shall prosper.

Perd.

Sir, welcome: It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee The Hostesseship o' th' day: you're welcome sir. Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs, For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepe Seeming, and sauour all the Winter long: Grace, and Remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our Shearing.

Pol.

Shepherdesse, (A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages With flowres of Winter.

Perd.

Sir, the yeare growing ancient, Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o' th season Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors, (Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not To get slips of them.

Pol.

Wherefore (gentle Maiden) Do you neglect them.

Perd.

For I haue heard it said, There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares With great creating-Nature.

Pol.

Say there be: Yet Nature is made better by no meane, But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art, (Which you say addes to Nature) is an Art That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke, And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but The Art it selfe, is Nature.

Perd.

So it is.

Pol.

Then make you Garden rich in Gilly'vors, And do not call them bastards.

Perd.

Ile not put The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them: No more then were I painted, I would wish This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you: Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum, The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with Sun, And with him rises, weeping: These are flowres Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen To men of middle age. Y' are very welcome.

Cam.

I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke, And onely liue by gazing.

Perd.

Out alas: You'ld be so leane, that blasts of Ianuary Would blow you through and through. Now my fa••st Friend, I would I had some Flowres o' th Spring, that might Become your time of day: and yours, and yours, That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina, For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall From Dysses Waggon: Daffadils, That come before the Swallow dares▪ and take The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim, But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses, That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds, (The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke, To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend, To strew him o're, and ore.

Flo.

What? like a Coarse?

Perd.

No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on: Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried, But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours, Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them do In Whitso••-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine Do's change my disposition:

Flo.

What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet) I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing, I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes, Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A waue o' th Sea, that you might euer do Nothing but that: moue still, still so: And owne no other Function. Each your doing, (So singular, in each particular) Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds, That all your Actes, are Queenes.

Perd.

O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth And the true blood which peepes fairely through't, Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd Sphepherd With wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles) You woo'd me the false way.

Flo.

I thinke you haue As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray, Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire That neuer meane to part.

Perd.

Ile sweare for 'em.

Po.

This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes But smackes of something greater then her selfe, Too Noble for this place.

Cam.

He tels her something That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is The Queene of Curds and Creame.

Clo.

Come on: strike vp.

Dorcas

Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick to mend her kissing with.

Mop.

Now in good time.

Clo.

Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners, Come, strike vp.

Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.

Pol.

Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this, Which dances with your daughter?

Shep.

They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it: He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter, I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the Moone Vpon the water, as hee'l stand and reade As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine, I thinke there is not halfe a kisse to choose Who loues another best.

Pol.

She dances fearly.

Shep.

So she do's any thing, though I report it That should be silent: If yong Doricles Do light vpon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreames of.

Enter Seruant.

Ser.

O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at the doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singes seuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money: hee vtters them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to his Tunes.

Clo.

He could neuer come better: hee shall come in: I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter merrily set downe: or a very pleasant thing indeede, and sung lamentably.

Ser.

He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes: No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he has the prettiest Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie (which is strange,) with such delicate burthens of Dil∣do's and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where some stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meane mischeefe, and breake a fowle gap into the Matter, hee makes the maid to answere, Whoop, doe me no harme good man: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, doe mee no harme good man.

Pol.

This is a braue fellow.

Clo.

Beleeee mee, thou talkest of an admirable con∣ceited fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares?

Ser.

Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i' th Raine∣bow; Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can learnedly handle, though they come to him by th' grosse: Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he sings em ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would thinke a Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes to the sleeue-hand, and the worke about the square on't:

Clo.

Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach sin∣ging.

Perd.

Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous words in's tunes.

Clow.

You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more in them, then youl'd thinke (Sister.)

Perd.

I, good brother, or go about to thinke.

Enter Autolicus singing.

Lawne as white as driuen Snow, Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow, Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses, Maskes for faces, and for noses: Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber, Perfume for a Ladies Chamber: Golden Quoises, and Stomachers For my Lads, to giue their deers: Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele. What Maids lacke from head to heele: Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy, Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy.

Clo.

If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues.

Mop.

I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they come not too late now.

Dor.

He hath promis'd you more then that, or there be lyars.

Mop.

He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be he has paid you more, which will shame you to giue him againe.

Clo.

Is there no manners left among maids? Will they weare their plackets, where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time? When you are going to bed? Or kill-hole? To whistle of these secrets, but you must be tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more.

Mop.

I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdry-lace, and a paire of sweet Gloues.

Clo.

Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and lost all my money.

Aut.

And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, ther∣fore it behooues men to be wary.

Clo.

Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here

Aut.

I hope so sir, for I haue about me many parcels of charge.

Clo.

What hast heere? Ballads?

Mop.

Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, a life, for then we are sure they are true.

Aut.

Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsu∣rers wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs at a burthen, and how she long'd to eate Adders heads, and Toads carbonado'd.

Mop.

Is it true, thinke you?

Aut.

Very true, and but a moneth old.

Dor.

Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer.

Aut.

Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist. Tale-Porter, and fiue or six honest Wiues, that were present. Why should I carry lyes abroad?

Mop.

'Pray you now buy it.

Clo.

Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see moe Bal∣lads: Wee'l buy the other things anon.

Aut.

Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared vpon the coast, on wensday the fourescore of April, fortie thousand fadom aboue water, & sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a Wo∣man, and was turn'd into a cold fish, for she wold not ex∣change flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very pittifull, and as true.

Dor.

Is it true too, thinke you.

Autol.

Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses more then my packe will hold.

Clo.

Lay it by too; another.

Aut.

This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.

Mop.

Let's haue some merry ones.

Aut.

Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of two maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maide westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you.

Mop.

We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou shalt heare, 'tis in three parts.

Dor.

We had the tune on't, a month agoe.

Aut.

I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my oc∣cupation: Haue at it with you.

Song

Get you hence, for I must goe

Aut.

Where it fits not you to know.

Dor.

Whether?

Mop

O Whether?

Dor.

Whether?

Mop.

It becomes thy oath full well, Thou to me thy secrets tell.

Dor:

Me too: Le me go thether:

Mop

Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill,

Dor:

If to either thou dost ill,

Aut:

Neither.

Dor:

What neither?

Aut:

Neither:

Dor:

Thou hast sworne my Loue to be,

Mop

Thou hast sworne it more to mee. Then whether goest? Say whether?

Clo.

Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My Father, and the Gent▪ are in sad talke, & wee'll not trouble them: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ile buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the first choice; folow me girles.

Aut.

And you shall pay well for 'em.

Song.

Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your ••rpe? My dainty Ducke, my deere-a? Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head Of the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a. Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler, That doth vtter all mens ware-a.

Exit

Seruant.

Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shep∣herds, three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y^t haue made

themselues all men of haire, they cal themselues Saltiers, and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gal∣ly-maufrey of Gambols, because they are not in't: but they themselues are o' th' minde (if it bee not too rough for some, that know little but bowling) it will please plentifully.

Shep.

Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wea∣rie you.

Pol.

You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's see these foure-threes of Heardsmen.

Ser.

One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,) hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of the three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire.

Shep.

Leaue your prating, since these good men are pleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now.

Ser.

Why, they stay at doore Sir.

Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.

Pol.

O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter: Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them, He's simple, and tels much. How now (faire shepheard) Your heart is full of something, that do's take Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong, And handed loue, as you do; I was wont To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt The Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr'd it To her acceptance: you haue let him go, And nothing matted with him. If your Lasse Interpretation should abuse, and call this Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited For a reply at least, if you make a care Of happie holding her.

Flo.

Old Sir, I know She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already, But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme) Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as Doues downe, and as white as it, Or Ethyopians tooth, or the san'd snow, that's bolted By th' Northerne blasts, twice ore.

Pol.

What followes this? How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to wash The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out, But to your protestation: Let me heare What you professe.

Flo.

Do, and be witnesse too't.

Pol.

And this my neighbour too?

Flo.

And he, and more Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all; That were I crown'd the most Imperiall Monarch Thereof most worthy: were I the fayrest youth That euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledge More then was euer mans, I would not prize them Without her Loue; for her, employ them all, Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice, Or to their owne perdition.

Pol.

Fairely offer'd.

Cam.

This shewes a sound affection.

Shep.

But my daughter, Say you the like to him.

Pol.

I cannot speake So well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane better By th' par••erne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out The puritie of his.

Shep.

Take hands, a bargaine; And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't: I giue my daughter to him, and will make Her Portion, equall his.

Flo.

O, that must bee I' th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead, I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet, Enough then for your wonder: but come-on, Contract vs fore these Witnesses.

Shep.

Come, your hand: And daughter, yours.

Pol.

Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you, Haue you a Father?

Flo.

I haue: but what of him?

Pol.

Knowes he of this?

Flo.

He neither do's, nor shall.

Pol.

Me-thinkes a Father, Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guest That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more Is not your Father growne incapeable Of reasonable affayres? Is he not stupid With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare? Know man, from man? Dispute his owne estate? Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothing But what he did, being childish?

Flo.

No good Sir: He has his health, and ampler strength indeede Then most haue of his age.

Pol.

By my white beard, You offer him (if this be so) a wrong Something vnfilliall: Reason my sonne Should choose himselfe a wife, but as good reason The Father (all whose ioy is nothing else But faire posterity) should hold some counsaile In such a businesse.

Flo.

I yeeld all this; But for some other reasons (my graue Sir) Which 'tis not sit you know, I not acquaint My Father of this businesse.

Pol.

Let him know't.

Flo

He shall not.

Pol.

Prethee let him.

Flo

No, he must not.

Shep.

Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeue At knowing of thy choice.

Flo.

Come, come, he must not: Marke our Contract.

Pol.

Marke your diuorce (yong sir) Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too base To be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire, That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor, I am sorry, that by hanging thee, I can but shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peece Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must know The royall Foole thou coap'st with.

Shep.

Oh my heart.

Pol.

Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy) If I may euer know thou dost but sigh, That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer I meane thou shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession, Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin, Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words) Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time (Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment,

Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too, That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein) Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou These rurall Latches, to his entrance open, Or hope his body more, with thy embraces, I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee As thou art tender to't.

Exit.

Perd.

Euen heere vndone: I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice I was about to speake, and tell him plainely, The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court, Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but Lookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone? I told you what would come of this: Beseech you Of your owne state take care: This dreame of mine Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther, But milke my Ewes, and weepe.

Cam.

Why how now Father, Speake ere thou dyest.

Shep.

I cannot speake, nor thinke, Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir, You haue vndone a man of fourescore three, That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea, To dye vpon the bed my father dy'de, To lye close by his honest bones; but now Some Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me Where no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch, That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone: If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd To die when I desire.

Exit.

Flo.

Why looke you so vpon me? I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid, But nothing altred: What I was, I am: More straining on, for plucking backe; not following My leash vnwillingly.

Cam.

Gracious my Lord, You know my Fathers temper: at this time He will allow no speech: (which I do ghesse You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare; Then till the fury of his Highnesse settle Come not before him.

Flo.

I not purpose it: I thinke Camillo.

Cam.

Euen he, my Lord.

Per.

How often haue I told you 'twould be thus? How often said my dignity would last But till 'twer knowne?

Flo.

It cannot faile, but by The violation of my faith, and then Let Nature crush the sides o' th earth together, And marre the feeds within. Lift vp thy lookes: From my succession wipe me (Father) I Am heyre to my affection.

Cam.

Be aduis'd.

Flo.

I am: and by my fancie, if my Reason Will thereto be obedient: I haue reason: If not, my sences better pleas'd with madnesse, Do bid it welcome.

Cam.

This is desperate (sir.)

Flo.

So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow: I needs must thinke it honesty. Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may Be there at gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or The close earth wombes, or the profound seas, hides In vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oath To this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you, As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend, When he shall misse me, as (in faith I meane not To see him any more) cast your good counsailes Vpon his passion: Let my selfe, and Fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know, And so deliuer, I am put to Sea With her, who heere I cannot hold on shore: And most opportune to her neede, I haue A Vessell rides fast by, but not prepar'd For this designe. What course I meane to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concerne me the reporting.

Cam.

O my Lord, I would your spirit were easier for aduice, Or stronger for your neede.

Flo.

Hearke Perdita, Ile heare you by and by.

Cam.

Hee's irremoueable, Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if His going, I could frame to serue my turne, Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor, Purchase the sight againe of deere Sicillia, And that vnhappy King, my Master, whom I so much thirst to see.

Flo.

Now good Camillo, I am so fraught with curious businesse, that I leaue out ceremony.

Cam.

Sir, I thinke You haue heard of my poore seruices, i' th loue That I haue borne your Father?

Flo.

Very nobly Haue you deseru'd: It is my Fathers Musicke To speake your deeds: not little of his care To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on.

Cam.

Well (my Lord) If you may please to thinke I loue the King, And through him, what's neerest to him, which is Your gracious selfe; embrace but my direction, If your more ponderous and setled proiect May suffer alteration. On mine honor, Ile point you where you shall haue such receiuing As shall become your Highnesse, where you may Enioy your Mistris; from the whom, I see There's no disiunction to be made, but by (As heauens forefend) your ruine: Marry her, And with my best endeuours, in your absence, Your discontenting Father, striue to qualifie And bring him vp to liking.

Flo.

How Camillo May this (almost a miracle) be done? That I may call thee something more then man, And after that trust to thee.

Cam.

Haue you thought on A place whereto you'l go?

Flo.

Not any yet: But as th' vnthought-on accident is guiltie To what we wildely do, so we professe Our selues to be the slaues of chance, and flyes Of euery winde that blowes.

Cam,

Then lift to me: This followes, if you will not change your purpose But vndergo this flight; make for Sicillia, And there present your selfe, and your fayre Princesse, (For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes;

She shall be habited, as it becomes The partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I see Leontes opening his free Armes, and weeping His Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne forgiuenesse, As 'twere i' th' Fathers person: kisses the hands Of your fresh Princesse; ore and ore diuides him, 'Twixt his vnkindnesse, and his Kindnesse: th' one He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow Faster then Thought, or Time.

Flo.

Worthy Camillo, What colour for my Visitation, shall I Hold vp before him?

Cam.

Sent by the King your Father To greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you (as from your Father) shall deliuer, Things knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe, The which shall point you forth at euery sitting What you must say: that he shall not perceiue, But that you haue your Fathers Bosome there, And speake his very Heart.

Flo.

I am bound to you: There is some sappe in this.

Cam.

A Course more promising, Then a wild dedication of your selues To vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; most certaine, To Miseries enough: no hope to helpe you, But as you shake off one, to take another. Nothing so certaine, as your Anchors, who Doe their best office, if they can but stay you, Where you'le be loth to be: besides you know, Prosperitie's the very bond of Loue, Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together, Affliction alters.

Perd.

One of these is true: I thinke Affliction may subdue the Cheeke, But not take-in the Mind.

Cam.

Yea? say you so? There shall not, at your Fathers House, these seuen yeeres Be borne another such.

Flo.

My good Camillo, She's as forward, of her Breeding, as She is i' th' reare' our Birth.

Cam.

I cannot say, 'tis pitty She lacks Instructions, for she seemes a Mistresse To most that teach.

Perd.

Your pardon Sir, for this, Ile blush you Thanks.

Flo.

My prettiest Perdita. But O, the Thornes we stand vpon: (Camillo) Preseruer of my Father, now of me, The Medicine of our House: how shall we doe? We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's Sonne, Nor shall appeare in Sicilia.

Cam.

My Lord, Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes Doe all lye there: it shall be so my care, To haue you royally appointed, as if The Scene you play, were mine. For instance Sir, That you may know you shall not want: one word.

Enter Autolicus.

Aut.

Ha, ha, what a Foole Honestie is? and Trust (his sworne brother) a very simple Gentleman. I haue sold all my Tromperie: not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon, Glasse, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke, Ballad, Knife, Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe my Pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first, as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought a be∣nediction to the buyer: by which meanes, I saw whose Purse was best in Picture; and what I saw, to my good vse, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but some∣thing to be a reasonable man) grew so in loue with the Wenches Song, that hee would not stirre his Petty-toes, till he had both Tune and Words, which so drew the rest of the Heard to me, that all their other Sences stucke in Eares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was sence∣lesse; 'twas nothing to gueld a Cod-peece of a Purse: I would haue fill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes: no hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring the Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I pickd and cut most of their Festiuall Purses: And had not the old-man come in with a Whoo-bub against his Daugh∣ter, and the Kings Sonne, and scar'd my Chowghes from the Chaffe, I had not left a Purse aliue in the whole Army.

Cam.

Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being there So soone as you arriue, shall cleare that doubt.

Flo.

And those that you'le procure from King Leontes?

Cam.

Shall satisfie your Father.

Perd.

Happy be you: All that you speake, shewes faire.

Cam.

Who haue we here? Wee'le make an Instrument of this: omit Nothing may giue vs aide.

Aut.

If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging.

Cam.

How now (good Fellow) Why shak'st thou so? Feare not (man) Here's no harme intended to thee.

Aut.

I am a poore Fellow, Sir.

Cam.

Why, be so still: here's no body will steale that from thee: yet for the out-side of thy pouertie, we must make an exchange; therefore dis-case thee instantly (thou must thinke there's a necessitie in't) and change Garments with this Gentleman: Though the penny-worth (on his side) be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot.

Aut.

I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well enough.)

Cam.

Nay prethee dispatch: the Gentleman is halfe fled already.

Aut.

Are you in earnest, Sir? (I smell the trick on't.)

Flo.

Dispatch, I prethee.

Aut.

Indeed I haue had Earnest, but I cannot with conscience take it.

Cam.

Vnbuckle, vnbuckle. Fortunate Mistresse (let my prophecie Come home to ye:) you must retire your selfe Into some Couert; take your sweet-hearts Hat And pluck it ore your Browes, muffle your face, Dis-mantle you, and (as you can) disliken The truth of your owne seeming, that you may (For I doe feare eyes ouer) to Ship-boord Get vndescry'd.

Perd.

I see the Play so lyes, That I must beare a part.

Cam.

No remedie: Haue you done there?

Flo.

Should I now meet my Father, He would not call me Sonne.

Cam.

Nay, you shall haue no Hat: Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)

Aut.

Adieu, Sir.

Flo.

O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot?

'Pray you a word.

Cam.

What I doe next, shall be to tell the King Of this escape, and whither they are bound; Wherein, my hope is, I shall so preuaile To force him after: in whose company I shall re-view Sicilia; for whose sight, I haue a Womans Longing.

Flo.

Fortune speed vs: Thus we set on (Camillo) to th' Sea-side.

Cam.

The swifter speed, the better.

Exit.

Aut.

I vnderstand the businesse, I heare it: to haue an open eare, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a Cut-purse; a good Nose is requisite also, to smell out worke for th' other Sences. I see this is the time that the vniust man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been, without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange? Sure the Gods doe this yeere conniue at vs, and we may doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about a peece of Iniquitie (stealing away from his Father, with his Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peece of ho∣nestie to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: I hold it the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein am I constant to my Profession.

Enter Clowne and Shepheard.

Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot braine: Euery Lanes end, euery Shop, Church, Session, Hanging, yeelds a carefull man worke.

Clowne.

See, see: what a man you are now? there is no other way, but to tell the King she's a Changeling, and none of your flesh and blood.

Shep.

Nay, but heare me.

Clow.

Nay; but heare me.

Shep.

Goe too then.

Clow.

She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood ha's not offended the King, and so your flesh and blood is not to be punish'd by him. Shew those things you found about her (those secret things, all but what she ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law goe whistle: I warrant you.

Shep.

I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and his Sonnes prancks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make me the Kings Brother in Law.

Clow.

Indeed Brother in Law was the farthest off you could haue beene to him, and then your Blood had beene the dearer, by I know how much an ounce.

Aut.

Very wisely (Puppies.)

Shep.

Well: let vs to the King: there is that in this Farthell, will make him scratch his Beard.

Aut.

I know not what impediment this Complaint may be to the flight of my Master.

Clo.

'Pray heartily he be at' Pallace.

Aut.

Though I am not naturally honest, I am so some∣times by chance: Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excre∣ment. How now (Rustiques) whither are you bound?

Shep.

To th' Pallace (and it like your Worship.)

Aut.

Your Affaires there? what? with whom? the Condition of that Farthell? the place of your dwelling? your names? your ages? of what hauing? breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be knowne, discouer?

Clo.

We are but plaine fellowes, Sir.

Aut.

A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haue no lying; it becomes none but Trades-men, and they of∣ten giue vs (Souldiers) the Lye, but wee pay them for it with stamped Coyne, not stabbing Steele, therefore they doe not giue vs the Lye.

Clo.

Your Worship had like to haue giuen vs one, if you had not taken your selfe with the manner.

Shep.

Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir?

Aut.

Whether it lke me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seest thou not the ayre of the Court, in these enfoldings? Hath not my gate in it, the measure of the Court? Receiues not thy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy Basenesse, Court-Contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, at toaze from thee thy Businesse, I am there∣fore no Courtier? I am Courtier Cap-a-pe; and one that will eyther push-on, or pluck-back, thy Businesse there: whereupon I command thee to open thy Affaire.

Shep.

My Businesse, Sir, is to the King.

Aut.

What Aduocate ha'st thou to him?

Shep.

I know not (and't like you.)

Clo.

Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: say you haue none.

Shep.

None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen.

Aut.

How blessed are we, that are not simple men? Yet Nature might haue made me as these are, Therefore I will not disdaine.

Clo.

This cannot be but a great Courtier.

Shep.

His Garments are rich, but he weares them not handsomely.

Clo.

He seemes to be the more Noble, in being fanta∣sticall: A great man, Ile warrant; I know by the picking on's Teeth.

Aut.

The Farthell there? What's i' th' Farthell? Wherefore that Box?

Shep.

Sir, there lyes such Secrets in this Farthell and Box, which none must know but the King, and which hee shall know within this houre, if I may come to th' speech of him.

Aut.

Age, thou hast lost thy labour.

Shep.

Why Sir?

Aut.

The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboord a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himselfe: for if thou bee'st capable of things serious, thou must know the King is full of griefe.

Shep.

So 'tis said (Sir:) about his Sonne, that should haue marryed a Shepheards Daughter.

Aut.

If that Shepheard be not in hand-fast, let him flye; the Curses he shall haue, the Tortures he shall feele, will breake the back of Man, the heart of Monster.

Clo.

Thinke you so, Sir?

Aut.

Not hee alone shall suffer what Wit can make heauie, and Vengeance bitter; but those that are Iermaine to him (though remou'd fiftie times) shall all come vnder the Hang-man: which, though it be great pitty, yet it is necessarie. An old Sheepe-whistiing Rogue, a Ram-ten∣der, to offer to haue his Daughter come into grace? Some say hee shall be ston'd: but that death is too soft for him (say I:) Draw our Throne into a Sheep-Coat? all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easie.

Clo.

Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare) and't like you, Sir?

Aut.

Hee ha's a Sonne: who shall be flayd aliue, then 'noynted ouer with Honey, set on the head of a Waspes Nest, then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead: then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or some other hot Infusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hotest day Progno∣stication proclaymes) shall he be set against a Brick-wall, (the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye vpon him; where hee is to behold him, with Flyes blown to death.) But what talke we of these Traitorly-Rascals, whose mi∣series are to be smil'd at, their offences being so capitall?

Tell me (for you seeme to be honest plaine men) what you haue to the King: being something gently consider'd, Ile bring you where he is aboord, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfes; and if it be in man, besides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man shall doe it.

Clow.

He seemes to be of great authoritie: close with him, giue him Gold; and though Authoritie be a stub∣borne Be••re, yet hee is oft led by the Nose with Gold: shew the in-side of your Purse to the out-side of his hand, and no more adoe. Remember ••on'd, and stay'd aliue.

Shep.

And't please you (Sir) to vndertake the Businesse for vs, here is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as much more, and leaue this young man in pawne, till I bring it you.

Aut.

After I hate done what I promised?

Shep.

I Sir.

Aut.

Well, giue me the Mo••: Are you a partie in this Businesse?

Clow.

In so••e s••rt, Sir: but though my case be a pit∣tifull one, I hope I shall not ••s ••d out o•• it.

Aut.

Oh, that's the case 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Shepheards Sonne: hang him, hee'le be ma•• a•• ex••le.

Clow.

Comfort ••ood co••. We must to the King, and she ••our strange sights: •• ••st know 'tis none of your Daugh•• •• my 〈…〉〈…〉 are gone else. Sir, I will giue you as much as this old man do's when the Bu∣sinesse i•• pe••s••ed, and remaine (as he sayes) your pawne till it be brough•• you.

Aut.

I will trust you. Walke before toward the Sea∣side, goe on the right hand, I will but looke vpon the Hedge, and follow you.

Clow.

We are bless'd, in this man: as I may say, euen bless'd.

Shep.

Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided to doe vs good.

Aut.

If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer m•• ••sh•• d••s 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in my mouth. I am courted now with a double ••sion: (Gold, and a means to doe the Prince my Master ••od▪ which, who knowes how that may turn backe to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••ncement?) I will bring these ••wo M••aie••, t••e ••d-ones, aboord him▪ if he thinke it ••it to shoare th•• againe, and that the Com∣plaint they haue ••o 〈◊〉〈◊〉 King▪ concernes him nothing, let him call me Rog••e, ••o•• being 〈◊〉〈◊〉 farre officious, for I am proofe against that side, and what shame else belongs to't: To him will I present them, there may be matter in it.

Exeunt.