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Then my

account I well may give, And in the stocks avouch it.

My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me, Autolycus; who, being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles: With die, and drab, I purchased this caparison; and my revenue is the silly cheat: Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the highway: beating, and hanging, are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it.—A prize! a prize!

Enter CLOWN.

Sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters
of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I
want:
shall there have money, or any thing
Offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my
heart.

Clo. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you?

Aut. A fellow, Sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames:* I knew him once a servant of the prince; I cannot tell, good Sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.

Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish Clo. Let me see;-Every 'leven weather-it, to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide.t tods; every tod yields-pound and odd shilling: fifteen hundred shorn,-What comes the

wool to?

Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. [Aside. Clo. I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what I am to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of sugar; five pound of What will this sister of mine currants; ricedo 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: three-man song-mens all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases: but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have saffron, to colour the warden pies; mace,-dates,-none; that's out of my note: nutmegs, seven; a race, or two, of ginger; but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as any of raisins o'the sun. Aut. O, that ever I was born!

[Grovelling on the ground.

Clo. I'the name of me,Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death!

Clo. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.

Aut. O, Sir, the loathsomeness of them of fends me more than the stripes I have received; which are mighty ones and millions.

Clo. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter.

Aut. I am robbed, Sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?
Aut. A foot-man, sweet Sir, a foot-man.

Clo, Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the
garments he hath left with thee; if this be a
horse-man's coat, it hath seen very hot service.
Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend
me thy hand.
[Helping him up.
Aut. O! good Sir, tenderly, oh!
Clo. Alas, poor soul.

I know this Aut. Vices I would say, Sir. man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.

Clo. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings. Aut. Very true, Sir; he, Sir, he; that's the rogue, that put me into this apparel.

Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but looked big, and spit at him, h'd have run.

Aut. I must confess to you, Sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him.

Clo. How do you now?

Aut. Sweet Sir, much better than I was; I can stand and walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's.

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?
Aut. No, good-faced Sir; no, sweet Sir.
Clo. Then fare thee well; I must go buy
spices for our sheep-shearing,

Aut. Prosper you, sweet Sir!-[Exit CLOWN.] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my name put in the book of

virtue!

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SCENE III.-The same.-A Shepherd's
Cottage.

Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA.

Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you

Aut. O, good Sir, softly, good Sir: I fear, Do give a life: no shepherdess; but Flora, Sir, my shoulder-blade is out.

Clo. How now? canst stand?

Aut. Softly, dear Sir; [Picks his pocket. good Sir, softly: you ha' done me a charitable office.

Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a little

money for thee.

Aut. No, good sweet Sir; no, I beseech you,

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Peering in April's front. This your sheep.
[shearing
Is as a meeting of the petty gods,
And you the queen on't.

Per. Sir, my gracious lord,
To chide at your extremes,¶ it not becomes me;
O, pardon, that I name them: your high self,
The gracious mark** o'the land, you have ob

scur'd

With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,

* The machine used in the game of pigeon-holes.

+ Sojourn.

Thief

Excesses.

↑ Puppet-show.

Il Take hold of.

** Object of all men's notice.

feasts

Most goddess-like prank'd up: But that our | These unknown friends to us welcome: for it 1 A way to make us better friends, more known. Come, quench your blushes; and present your

In every mess have folly, and the feeders Digest it with a custom, I should blush To see you so attired; sworn, I think, To show myself a glass.

Flo. I bless the time,

When my good falcon made her flight across Thy father's ground.

Per. Now Jove afford you cause!

To me, the differencet forges dread; \ your greatness [ble Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I tremTo think, your father, by some accident, [fates! Should pass this way, as you did: O, the How would he look, to see his work, so noble, Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how

Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold The sternness of his presence?

Flo. Apprehend

Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Nep

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Or I my life.

Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, [ken not With these forc'd thoughts, I pr'ythee, darThe mirth o'the feast: Or I'll be thine, my fair, Or not my father's: for I cannot be Mine own, 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 coming:

Lift up your countenance; as it were the day 'Of celebration of that nuptial, which We two have sworn shall come.

Per. O lady fortune, Stand you auspicious!

Enter SHEPHERD, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO, disguised; CLOWN, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others.

Flo. See. your guests approach: Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv'd,

upon

all:

This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook;
Both dame and servant: welcom'd all; serv'd
[here,
Would sing her song, and dance her turn: now
At upper end o'the table, now, i'the middle;
On his shoulder, and his: her face o'fire [it,
With labour; and the thing, she took to quench
She would to each one sip: You are retir'd,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting: Pray you, bid

* Dressed with ostentation.

self

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That which you are mistress o'the feast: Con And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, As your good flock shall prosper.

Per. Welcome, Sir!

[TO POL.

It is my father's will, I should take on me
The hostesship o'the day:-You're welcome,
Sir!
[TO CAMILLO.
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reve-
rend Sirs,

For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep
Seeming, and savour, all the winter long:
Grace, and remembrance, be to you both,
And welcome to our shearing!

Pol. Shepherdess,

(A fair one are you,) well you fit our ages With flowers of winter.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter,-the fairest flowers o'the

season

Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers, Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind

Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not
To get slips of them.

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Do you neglect them?

Per. Fort I have heard it said, There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares With great creating nature.

Pol. Say, there be;

Yet nature is made better by no mean,
But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art,
Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we
A gentler scion to the wildest stock; [marry
And make conceive a bark of baser kind
By bud of nobler race; This is an art
Which does mend nature,-change it rather:
The art itself is nature.
[but

Per. So it is.

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Flo. I think, you have

As little skill to fear, as I have purpose

Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read,
As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be
plain,

I think, there is not half a kiss to choose,
Who loves another best.

Pol. She dances featly.*

Shep. So she does any thing; though I report it,

That should be silent: if young Doricles
Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreams of.

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door, you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings several tunes, faster than you'll tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grew to their tunes.

Clo. He could never come better: he shall come in I love a ballad but even too well; if it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably.

Serv. He hath songs, for man, or woman, of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burdens of dildos and fadings; jump her and thump her; and where some stretch-mouth'd rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer, Whoop, do me no hurm, good man; puts him off, slights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, good man.

Pol. This is a brave fellow.

Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided

wares ?t

Serv. He hath ribands of all the colours i'the

To put you to't.-But, come; our dance, I rainbow; points, more than all the lawyers in

pray:

Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,
That never mean to part.

Per. I'll swear for 'em.

Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that

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Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross; inkles,‡ caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why, he sings them over, as they were gods or goddesses; you would think, a smock were a she-angel; he so chants to the sleeve-hand, and the work about the square on't.¶

Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in; and let him approach singing.

Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous words in his tunes.

Clo. You have of these pedlars, that have more in 'em than you'd think, sister. Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.

Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing.
Lawn, as white as driven snow;
Cyprus, black as e'er was crow;
Gloves, as sweet as damask roses;
Masks for faces, and for noses;
Bugle bracelet, necklace-amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber:**
Golden quoifs, and stomachers,
For my lads to give my dears;
Pins and poking-sticks of steel,
What maids lack from head to heel:

Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
Buy, lads, or else your lusses cry;
Come, buy, &c.

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou

* Neatly. + Plain goods. ↑ Worsted galloon. A kind of tape.

The cuffs.

The work about the bosom. **Amber of which necklaces were made fit to perfume a lady's chamber.

should'st take no money of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribands and gloves.

Mop. I was promised them against the feast; but they come not too late now.

Dor. He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.

Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has paid you more; which will shame you to give him again.

Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? will they wear their plackets, where they should bear their faces? Is there not milkingtime, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole,* to whistle off these secrets; but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? "Tis well they are whispering: Clamour your tongues,t and not a word more.

Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry lace, and a pair of sweet gloves. Clo. Have I told thee, how I was cozened by the way, and lost all my money?

Aut. And, indeed, Sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary. Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.

Aut. I hope so, Sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge.

Clo. What hast here? ballads?

Mop. Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print, a'-life; for then we are sure they are true.

Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money bags at a burden; and how she longed to eat adders' heads, and toads carbonadoed. Mop. Is it true, think you?

Aut. Very true; and but a month old. Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer! Aut. Here's the midwife's name to't, one mistress Taleporter; and five or six honest wives' that were present: Why should I carry lies abroad?

Mop. 'Pray you now, buy it.

Clo. Come on, lay it by: And let's first see more ballads; we'll buy the other things anon. Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish, that appeared upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: It was thought she was a woman, and was turned into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her: The ballad is very pitiful, and as true.

Dor. It is true too, think you?

D. Whither? M. O, whither? D. Whither?
M. It becomes thy oath full well,
Thou to me thy secrets tell:

D. Me too, let me go thither.

M. Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill:
D. If to either, thou dost ill.

A. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Neither.
D. Thou hast sworn my love to be;
M. Thou hast sworn it more to me:

Then, whither go'st? say, whither?
Clo. We'll have this song out anon by our-
selves; My father and the gentleman are in
sad talk, and we'll not trouble them: Come,
bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll
buy for you both :-Pedler, let's have the first
choice. Follow me, girls.

Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. [Aside.
Will you buy any tape,
Or lace for your cape,
My dainty duck, my dear-a?
Any silk, any thread,
Any toys for your head,

Of the new'st, and fin'st, fin'st wear-a?
Come to the pedler;

Money's a medler,

That doth uttert all men's ware-a.

[Exeunt CLOWN, AUTOLYCUS, DORCAS, and MOPSA.

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair; they call themselves saltiers : and they have a dance which the wenches say is gallimaufry|| of gambols, because they are not in't; but they themselves are o'the mind, (if it be hot too rough for some, that know little but bowling,) it will please plentifully.

Shep. Away! we'll none on't; here has been too much humble foolery already:-I know, Sir, we weary you.

Pol. You weary those that refresh us: Pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen.

Serv. One three of them, by their own report, Sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squire.¶

Shep. Leave your prating; since these good men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now.

Serv. Why, they stay at door, Sir. [Exit. Re-enter SERVANT, with twelve Rustics habited like Satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt. Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.[them.Is it not too far gone?-'Tis time to part Aut. This is a merry ballad; but a very pretty He's simple, and tells much. [Aside.]—How

Aut. Five justices' hands at it; and witnesses, more than my pack will hold.

Clo. Lay it by too: Another.

one.

Mop. Let's have some merry ones. Aut. Why this is a passing merry one; and goes to the tune of, Two maids wooing a man : there's scarce a maid westward, but she sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you.

Mop. We can both sing it; if thou❜lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts.

Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago.
Aut. I can bear my part; you must know,
'tis my occupation: have at it with you.
SONG.

A. Get you hence, for I must go ;
Where, it fits not you to know.

Fire-place for drying malt; still a noted gossiping
place.
+ Ring a dumb peal."

A lace to wear about the head or waist.

now, fair shepherd?

Your heart is full of something, that does take
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was

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296

Flo. Old Sir, I know

WINTER'S TALE.

She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd

Up in my heart; which I have given already,
But not deliver'd.-O, hear my breath my life
Before this ancient Sir, who, it should seem,
Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand; this
hand,

As soft as dove's down, and as white as it;
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow,
That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er.
Pol. What follows this?-

How prettily the young swain seems to wash
The hand, was fair before!-I have put you
But to your protestation; let me hear [out:-
What you profess.

Flo. Do, and be witness to't.
Pol. And this my neighbour too?
Flo. And he, and more

Than he, and men; the earth, the heavens, and all:

[narch, That, were I crown'd the most imperial moThereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve; had force, and knowledge, [them, More than was ever man's,-I would not prize Without her love: for her, employ them all; Commend them, and condemn them, to her Or to their own perdition.

Pol. Fairly offer'd.

Cam. This shows a sound affection.
Shep. But, my daughter,

Say you the like to him?

Per. I cannot speak

[service,

So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better:
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.

[to't:
Shep. Take hands, a bargain;—
And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness
I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.

Flo. O, that must be

I'the virtue of your daughter: one being dead,
I shall have more than you can dream of yet;
Enough then for your wonder: But, come on,
Contract us 'fore these witnesses.

Shep. Come, your hand ;-
And, daughter, yours.

Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you;

Have you a father?

Flo. I have: But what of him?

Pol. Knows he of this?

Flo. He neither does, nor shall.

Pol. Methinks, a father

Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest

[more;

That best becomes the table. Pray you, once
Is not your father grown incapable
Of reasonable affairs? Is he not stupid
With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak?
hear?

Know man from man? dispute his own estate?t
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing,
But what he did being childish?

Flo. No, good Sir;

He has his health, and ampler strength, in-
Than most have of his age.

Pol. By my white beard,

[deed,

[son,

You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
Something unfilial: Reason, my son
Should choose himself a wife; but as good rea-
The father, (all whose joy is nothing else
But fair posterity,) should hold some counsel
In such a business.

Flo. I yield all this;

The sieve used to separate flour from bran is called a bolting cloth. + Talk over his affairs.

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Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base To be acknowledg'd: Thou a sceptre's heir, That thus affect'st a sheep-hook!-Thou old traitor,

I am sorry, that, by hanging thee, I can but Shorten thy life one week.-And thou, fresh [know piece Of excellent witchcraft; who, of force, must The royal fool thou cop'st with;Shep. O, my heart!"

Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with [boy,briers, and made More homely than thy state.-For thee, fond If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh, That thou no more shalt see this knack, (as [sion; I mean thou shalt,) we'll bar thee from succesNot hold thee of our blood, no not our kin. Far than Deucalion off:-Mark thou my [time, words;

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I was not much afeard: for once, or twice, I was about to speak; and tell him plainly, The selfsame sun, that shines upon his court, Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike.-Will't please you, Sir, be [TO FLORIZEL. gone?

I told you, what would come of this: 'Beseech [mine,you, Of your own state take care: this dream of Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch further, But milk my ewes, and weep.

Cam. Why, how now, father? Speak, ere thou diest.

Shep. I cannot speak, nor think, Nor dare to know that which I know.-O, Sir, [TO FLORIZEL. You have undone a man of fourscore three, That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea, To die upon the bed my father died,

To lie close by his honest bones: but now
Some hangman must put on my shroud, and
lay me
Where no priest shovels in dust.-O cursed
wretch!
[TO PERDITA.
That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st
adventure

To mingle faith with him.-Undone! undone !
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire.

Flo. Why look you so upon me?

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