Scene 2
SCENE changes to the Country.
Enter Autolicus singing.
When daffadils begin to peere,
With, heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why then comes in the sweet o'th' year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
-- 116 --
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With, hey! the sweet birds, O how they sing!
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge:
For a quart of ale is a dish for a King.
The lark that tirra-lyra chaunts,
With, hey! with, hey! the thrush and the jay:
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
While we lye tumbling in the hay.
I have served Prince Florizel, and in my time wore
three-pile, but now I am out of service.
But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?
The pale moon shines by night:
And when I wander here and there,
I then do go most right.
If tinkers may have leave to live,
And bear the sow-skin budget;
Then my account I well may give,
And in the Stocks avouch it.
My traffick is sheets; when the kite builds, look to
lesser linnen. (23) note
My father nam'd me Autolicus, being
-- 117 --
litter'd under Mercury; who, as I am, was likewise
a snapper-up of unconsider'd trifles: with die and drab,
I purchas'd this caparison, and my revenue is the silly
Cheat. Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the
high-way; 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.
Clo.
Let me see,—Every eleven weather tods, every
tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred
shorn, what comes the wooll to?
Aut.
If the sprindge hold, the cock's mine.—
[Aside.
Clo.
I cannot do't without compters. Let me see,
what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast, three
pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice—what
will this sister of mine do with rice? but my father
hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on.
She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for the
shearers;(24) note
three-man song-men all, and very good
ones, but they are most of them means and bases; but
one Puritan among 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 many raisins o'th'
Sun.
Aut.
Oh, that ever I was born!
[Groveling on the ground.
Clo.
I'th' name of me—
-- 118 --
Aut.
Oh, 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.
Oh, Sir, the loathsomness of them offends me,
more than the stripes I have receiv'd, which are mighty
ones, and millions.
Clo.
Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come
to a great matter.
Aut.
I am robb'd, Sir, and beaten; my mony and
apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put
upon me.
Clo.
What, by a horse-man, or a footman?
Aut.
A foot-man, sweet Sir, a footman.
Clo.
Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the garments
he has 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.
Oh! good Sir, tenderly, oh!
Clo.
Alas, poor soul.
Aut.
O good Sir, softly, good Sir: I fear, Sir, my
shoulder-blade is out.
Clo.
How now? canst stand?
Aut.
Softly, dear Sir; good Sir, softly; you ha'
done me a charitable office.
Clo.
Dost lack any mony? I have a little mony for
thee.
Aut.
No, good sweet Sir; no, I beseech you, Sir;
I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile
hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have
mony, or any thing I want: offer me no mony, I pray
you; That kills my heart.
Clo.
What manner of fellow was he, that robb'd 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 whipp'd out of
the Court.
-- 119 --
Clo.
His vices, you would say; there's no virtue
whipp'd out of the Court; they cherish it to make it
stay there, and yet it will no more but abide.
Aut.
Vices I would say, Sir. I know this man well,
he hath been since an ape-bearer, then a process-server,
a bailiff; then he compass'd a Motion of the Prodigal
Son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where
my land and living lyes; and, having flown over many
knavish professions, he settled only in rogue; some call
him Autolicus.
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 look'd big, and spit at him, he'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 thy way?
Aut.
No, good-fac'd Sir; no, sweet Sir.
Clo.
Then, farewel, I must go to buy spices for our
sheep-shearing.
[Exit.
Aut.
Prosper you, sweet Sir! 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, (25) note let
me be unroll'd, and my name put into the book of
virtue!
-- 120 --
SONG.
Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a.
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.
[Exit.
Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
