SCENE III.
Enter Autolicus singing.
When Daffadils begin to Peer,
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.
-- 932 --
The white Sheet bleaching on the Hedge,
With hey the sweet Birds, O how they sing:
Doth set my pugging Tooth an edge,
For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King.
The Lark with Tirra lyra chaunts,
With hey, with hey the Thrush and the Lay:
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 most go 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
Linen. My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who being,
as I am, litter'd under Mercury, was likewise a Snapper-up
of unconsider'd Trifles: With Die and Drab, I purchas'd
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.
Clo.
Let me see, every eleven Weather Tods, every Tod
yields Pound and odd Shillings: Fifteen hundred shorn,
what comes the Wooll to?
Aut.
If the sprindge hold, the Cock's mine.
[Aside.
Clo.
I cannot do it 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
-- 933 --
her Mistress of the Feast, and she lays it on. She hath
made me four and twenty Nose-gays for the Shearers; three-Man-Song-men,
all, and very good ones, but they are most
of them, Mean and Bases; but one Puritan among them,
and he sings Psalms to Horn-Pipes. I must have Saffron to
colour the Wardens 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 Pruns, and as many of
Rasins o'th' Sun.
Aut.
Oh, that ever I was born.
[Groveling on the Ground.
Clo.
I'th' name of me—
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 Foot-man?
Aut.
A Foot-man, sweet Sir, a Foot-man.
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.
Oh 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
-- 934 --
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 Whip'd out of the
Court.
Clo.
His Vices you would say; there's no Virtue whip'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 compast 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-baiting.
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'ld 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 do 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 and 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
-- 935 --
Sheep-shearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out another,
and the Shearers prove Sheep, let me be unrol'd, and
my Name put in the Book of Virtue.
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.
SCENE IV.
Enter Florizel and Perdita.
Flo.
These your unusual Weeds, to each part of you
Does give a Life: No Shepherdess but Flora,
Peering in April's front. This your Sheep-shearing,
Is as a merry meeting of the petty Gods,
And you the Queen on't.
Per.
Sir; my gracious Lord,
To chide at your extreams, it not becomes me:
Oh pardon, that I name them: Your high self,
The gracious mark o'th' Land, you have obscur'd
With a Swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly Maid,
Most Goddess-like prank'd up. But that our Feasts,
In every Mess, have Folly; and the Feeders
Digest it with a Custom, I should blush
To see you so attir'd; sworn, I think,
To shew my self a Glass.
Flo.
I bless the time
When my good Falcon made her flight a-cross
Thy Father's Ground.
Per.
Now Jove afford you cause;
To me the difference forges dread, your Greatness
Hath not been us'd to Fear; even now I tremble
To think your Father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did: Oh the Fates,
How would he look to see his work, so noble,
Vildly bound up! What would he say! Or how
-- 936 --
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 Neptune
A Ram, and bleated; and the Fire-rob'd God,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble Swain,
As I seem now. Their Transformations,
Were never for a piece of Beauty rarer,
Nor in a way so chast: Since my Desires
Run not before mine Honour, nor my Lusts
Burn hotter than my Faith.
Per.
O but, dear Sir,
Your Resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd, as it must be, by th' Power of the King.
One of these two must be Necessities,
Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose,
Or I my Life.
Flo.
Thou dearest Perdita,
With these forc'd Thoughts I prethee darken not
The Mirth o'th' 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,
Tho' 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 you 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, Clown, Mopsa, Dorcas, Servants; with Polixenes
and Camillo disguis'd.
Flo.
See, your Guests approach;
Address your self to entertain them sprightly
And let's be red with Mirth.
Shep.
Fie, Daughter; when my old Wife liv'd, upon
-- 937 --
This day she was both Pantler, Butler, Cook,
Both Dame and Servant; welcom'd all, serv'd all;
Would sing her Song, and dance her turn; now here
At upper end o'th' Table, now i'th middle;
On his Shoulder, and his; her Face o'fire
With Labour; and the things she took to quench it
She would to each one sip. You are retired,
As if you were a feasted one; and not
The Hostess of the meeting: Pray you bid
These unknown Friends to's welcome, for it is
A way to make us better Friends, more known.
Come, quench your Blushes, and present your self
That which you are, Mistress o'th' Feast. Come on,
And bid us welcome to your Sheep-shearing,
As your good Flock shall prosper.
Per.
Sirs, welcome.
[To Polix. and Cam;
It is my Father's Will, I should take on me
The Hostessship o'th' Day, you're welcome, Sirs.
Give me those Flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend 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,
Nor yet on Summer's Death, nor on the Birth
Of trembling Winter, the fairest Flowers o'th' Season
Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gillyflowers,
Which some call Nature's Bastards, of that kind
Our rustick Garden's barren, and I care not
To get slips of them.
Pol.
Wherefore, gentle Maiden,
Do you neglect them?
Per.
For I have heard it said,
There is an Art, which in their pideness shares
With great creating-Nature.
Pol.
Say there be,
Yet Nature is made better by no mean,
-- 938 --
But Nature makes that mean; so over that Art,
Which you say adds to Nature is an Art
That Nature makes; you see, sweet Maid, we marry
A gentler Sien to the wildest Stock,
And make conceive a Bark of baser kind
By Bud of Nobler Race. This is an Art
Which does mend Nature; Change it rather; but
The Art it self is Nature.
Per.
So it is.
Pol.
Then make your Garden rich in Gillyflowers,
And do not call them Bastards.
Per.
I'll not put
The Dible in Earth, to set one slip of them:
No more than were I Painted, I would wish
This Youth should say 'twere well; and only therefore
Desire to breed by me. Here's Flowers for you;
Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram,
The Mary-gold, that goes to Bed with th' Sun,
And with him rises, weeping: These are Flowers
Of middle Summer, and, I think, they are given
To Men of middle Age. Y'are welcome.
Cam.
I should leave grazing, were I of your Flock,
And only live by gazing.
Per.
Out alas;
You'ld be so lean, that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through. Now, my fairest Friends,
I would I had some Flowers o'th' Spring, that might
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your Virgin-branches yet
Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,
For the Flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall
From Disses Waggon: Daffadils,
That come before the Swallow dares, and take
The Winds of March with Beauty; Violets, dim,
But sweeter than the Lids of Juno's Eyes,
Or Cytherea's Breath; pale Prim-roses,
That die unmarried, e'er they can behold
Bright Phœbus in his Strength, a Malady
Most incident to Maids; bold Oxlips, and
-- 939 --
The Crown-Imperial; Lillies of all kinds,
The Flower-de-Lis being one. O these I lack
To make you Garlands of, and my sweet Friend
To strew him o'er and o'er.
Flo.
What? like a Coarse?
Per.
No, like a Bank, for Love to lye and play on:
Not like a Coarse; or if, not to be buried,
But quick, and in mine Arms. Come, take your Flowers,
Methinks I play as I have seen them do
In Whitson Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine
Does change my Disposition.
Flo.
What you do,
Still betters what is done. When you speak, Sweet,
I'll have you do it ever; when you sing,
I'll have you buy and sell so; so give Alms;
Pray so; and for the ord'ring your Affairs,
To sing them too. When you do Dance, I wish you
A Wave o'th' Sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,
And own no other Function. Each your doing,
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present Deeds,
That all your Acts are Queens.
Per.
O Doricles,
Your Praises are too large; but that your Youth
And the true Blood which peeps forth fairly through it,
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd Shepherd,
With Wisdom, I might fear, my Doricles,
You woo'd me the false way.
Flo.
I think you have
As little Skill to fear, as I have purpose
To put you to't. But come, our Dance I 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 ever
Ran on the green-sord; nothing she does, or seems,
But smacks of something greater than her self,
Too noble for this place.
Cam.
He tells her something
-- 940 --
That makes her Blood look on't: Good sooth she is
The Queen of Curds and Cream.
Clo.
Come on, strike up.
Dor.
Mopsa must be your Mistress; marry Garlick to
mend her kissing with.
Mop.
Now in good time.
Clo.
Not a word, a word, we stand upon our Manners,
Come strike up.
Here a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Pol.
Pray, good Shepherd, what fair Swain is this
Which Dances with your Daughter?
Shep.
They call him Doricles, and he boasts himself
To have a worthy Feeding; but I have it
Upon his own Report, and I believe it:
He looks like sooth; he says he loves my Daughter,
I think so too; for never gaz'd the Moon
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 chuse
Who loves another best.
Pol.
She Dances featly.
Shep.
So she does any thing, tho' 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.
Ser.
O Master, if you did but hear the Pedler at the
Door, you would never Dance again after a Tabor and
Pipe: No, the Bag-pipe could not move you; he sings several
Tunes faster than you'll tell Mony; he utters them
as he had eaten Ballads, and all Mens Ears grew to his
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.
Ser.
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 burthens of Dildos
-- 941 --
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 harm, 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?
Ser.
He hath Ribbons of all the Colours i'th' Rainbow;
Points, more than all the Lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly
handle, tho' they come to him by the gross: Inkles, Caddisses,
Cambricks, Lawns; why he sings 'em 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.
Prethee bring him in, and let him approach singing.
Per.
Forewarn him that he use no scurrillous Words in's
Tunes.
Clo.
You have of these Pedlers, that have more in them,
than you'ld think, Sister.
Per.
Ay, good Brother, or go about to think.
Enter Autolicus singing.
Lawn as white as driven Snow,
Cypress black as e'er was Crow;
Gloves as sweet as Damask Roses,
Masks for Faces, and for Noses;
Bugle-Bracelets, Neck-lace Amber,
Perfume for a Lady's Chamber:
Golden Quoifs, and Stomachers,
For my Lads to give their Dears:
Pins, and poaking Sticks of Steel,
What Maids lack from Head to Heel:
Come buy of me, come: Come buy, come buy,
Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy.
Clo.
If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou should'st take
no Mony of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also
be the Bondage of certain Ribbons and Gloves.
-- 642 --
Mop.
I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they
come not too late now.
Dor.
He hath promis'd you more than that, or there be
Liars.
Mop.
He hath paid you all he promis'd 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 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:
Clamour your Tongues, and not a word more.
Mop.
I have done: Come, you promis'd me a tawdry
Lace, and a pair of sweet Gloves.
Clo.
Have I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way,
and lost all my Mony?
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 with twenty Mony Bags at a Burthen,
and how she long'd to eat Adder's Heads, and Toads
Carbonado'd.
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 Tale-Porter,
and five or six honest Wives 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 Ballads;
we'll buy the other things anon.
Aut.
Here's another Ballad of a Fish, that appear'd upon
the Coast, on Wednesday the fourscore of April, forty thousand
-- 943 --
Fadom above Water, and sung this Ballad against the
hard Hearts of Maids; it was thought she was a Woman,
and was turn'd into a cold Fish, for she would not exchange
Flesh with one that lov'd her: The Ballad is very pitiful,
and as true.
Dor.
Is it true too, think you?
Aut.
Five Justices hands at it; and Witnesses more than
my Pack will hold.
Clo.
Lay it by too: Another.
Aut.
This is a merry Ballad, but a very pretty 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 a-go.
Aut.
I can bear my part, you must know 'tis my occupation:
Have at it with you.
SONG.
Aut.
Get you hence, for I must go,
Where fits not you to know.
Dor.
Whither?
Mop.
O whither?
Dor.
Whither?
Mop.
It becomes thy Oath full well,
Thou to me thy Secrets tell.
Dor.
Me too, let me go thither:
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 sworn my Love to be,
Mop.
Thou hast sworn it more to me:
Then whither goest? Say whither?
Clo.
We'll have this Song out anon by our selves: My
Father and the Gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble
-- 944 --
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.
SONG.
Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape,
My dainty Duck, my Deer-a?
Any Silk, any Thread, any Toys for your Head
Of the new'st, and fin'st, fin'st Ware-a:
Come to the Pedler, Mony's a medler,
That doth utter all Mens Ware-a.
[Exit Clown, Autolicus, Dorcas, and Mopsa.
Enter a Servant.
Ser.
Master, there are three Carters, three Shepherds,
three Neat-herds, and 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 a Gally-maufry
of Gambols, because they are not in't: But they themselves
are o'th' mind, if it be not 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
homely foolery already. I know, Sir, we weary you.
Pol.
You weary those that refresh us: 'Pray let's see
these four-threes of Herdsmen.
Ser.
One three of them, by their own report, Sir, hath
danc'd before the King; and not the worst of the three, but
jumps twelve foot and half by th' square.
Shep.
Leave your prating; since these good Men are
pleas'd, let them come in, but quickly now.
Here a Dance of twelve Satyrs.
Pol.
O Father, you'll know more of that hereafter.
Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them,
He's simple, and tells much. How now, fair Shepherd,
Your Heart is full of something, that does take
Your Mind from Feasting. Sooth, when I was young,
And handed Love, as you do, I was wont
-- 945 --
To load my She with Knacks: I would have Ransack'd
The Pedler's silken Treasury, and have pour'd it
To her Acceptance; you have let him go,
And nothing marted with him. If your Lass
Interpretation should abuse, and call this
Your lack of Love, or Bounty, you were straited
For a Reply at least, if you make a Care
Of happy holding her.
Flo.
Old Sir, I know
She prizes not such Trifles as these are;
The Gifts she looks from me, are packt and lockt
Up in my Heart, which I have given already,
But not deliver'd. O hear me 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 Ethiopians Tooth, or the fan'd Snow,
That's bolted by th' Northern Blast, twice o'er.
Pol.
What follows this?
How prettily the young Swain seems to wash
The Hand, was fair before! I have put you out;
But to your Protestation: Let me hear
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, and Heav'ns, and all;
That were I crown'd the most Imperial Monarch
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest Youth
That ever made Eye swerve, had Force and Knowlege
More than was ever Man's, I would not prize them
Without her Love; for her imploy them all,
Commend them, and condemn them to her Service,
Or to their own Perdition.
Pol.
Fairly offer'd.
Cam.
This shews a sound Affection.
Shep.
But my Daughter,
Say you the like to him?
Per.
I cannot speak
So well, nothing so well, no, nor mean better.
-- 946 --
By the Pattern of my mine own Thoughts, I cut out
The Purity of his.
Shep.
Take Hands, a Bargain;
And Friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't:
I give my Daughter to him, and will make
Her Portion equal his.
Flo.
O, that must be
I'th' 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, a-while; '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
That best becomes the Table: 'Pray you once more,
Is not your Father grown incapable
Of reasonable Affairs? Is he not Stupid
With Age, and altring Rheums? Can he speak? Hear?
Know Man from Man? Dispute his own Estate?
Lyes 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 indeed
Than most have of his Age.
Pol.
By my white Beard,
You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
Something unfilial: Reason my Son
Shoud chuse himself a Wife, but as good reason
The Father (all whose Joy is nothing else
But fair Posterity) should hold some Counsel
In such a Business.
Flo.
I yield all this;
But for some other Reasons, my grave Sir,
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My Father of this Business.
-- 947 --
Pol.
Let him know't.
Flo.
He shall not.
Pol.
Prethee let him.
Flo.
No; he must not.
Shep.
Let him, my Son, he shall not need to grieve,
At knowing of thy Choice.
Flo.
Come, come, he must not:
Mark our Contract.
Pol.
Mark your Divorce, young Sir,
[Discovering himself.
Whom Son I dare not call: Thou art too base
To be acknowledg'd. Thou a Scepter's Heir,
That thus affects a Sheep-hook? Thou old Traytor,
I am sorry that by hanging thee, I can
But shorten thy Life one Week. And thou fresh Piece
Of excellent Witchcraft, who of force must know
The Royal Fool thou coap'st with.
Shep.
Oh my Heart!
Pol.
I'll have thy Beauty scratch'd with Briars, and made
More homely than thy State. For thee, fond Boy,
If I may ever know thou dost but sigh,
That thou no more shalt see this Knack, as never
I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from Succession,
Not hold thee of our Blood, no not our Kin,
Far than Deucalion off: Mark thou my Words;
Follow us to the Court. Thou Churl, for this time,
Tho' full of our Displeasure, yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it: And You, Enchantment,
Worthy enough a Herdsman; yea him too,
That makes himself, but for our Honour therein,
Unworthy thee; if ever, henceforth, thou
These rural Latches to his entrance open,
Or hope his Body more, with thy Embraces,
I will devise a Death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to it.
[Exit.
Per.
Even here undone:
I was not much afraid; for once or twice
I was about to speak, and tell him plainly,
The self-same Sun that shines upon his Court,
Hides not his Visage from our Cottage, but
Looks on alike. Wilt please you, Sir, be gone?
[To Flo.
-- 948 --
I told you what would come of this. 'Beseech you
Of your own State take care: This Dream of mine
Being now awake, I'll Queen it no inch farther,
But milk my Ewes, and weep.
Cam.
Why how now, Father,
Speak e'er thou dyest.
Shep.
I cannot speak, nor think,
Nor dare to know that which I know. O Sir,
[To Flor.
You have undone a Man of fourscore three,
That thought to fill his Grave in quiet; yea,
To dye upon the Bed my Father dy'd,
To lye close by his honest Bones; but now
Some Hang-man must put on my Shroud, and lay me
Where no Priest shovels in Dust. Oh cursed Wretch!
[To Perdita.
That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst adventure
To mingle Faith with him. Undone, undone!
If I might die within this Hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire.
[Exit.
Flo.
Why look you so upon me?
I am but sorry, not afraid; delay'd,
But nothing alter'd: What I was I am;
More straining on, for plucking back; not following
My Leash unwillingly.
Cam.
Gracious my Lord,
You know your Father's Temper: At this time
He will allow no Speech, which I do guess
You do not purpose to him; and as hardly
Will he endure your sight, as yet I fear;
Then, 'till the fury of his Highness settle,
Come not before him.
Flo.
I not purpose it.
I think, Camillo.
Cam.
Even he, my Lord.
Per.
How often have I told you 'twould be thus?
How often said, my Dignity would last
But 'till 'twere known?
Flo.
It cannot fail, but by
The violation of my Faith, and then
Let Nature crush the sides o' th' Earth together,
And mar the Seeds within. Lift up thy Looks.
-- 949 --
From my Succession wipe me, Father, I
Am Heir to my Affection.
Cam.
Be advis'd.
Flo.
I am; and by my Fancy, if my Reason
Will thereto be obedient, I have Reason;
If not, my Senses, better pleas'd with madness,
Do bid it welcome.
Cam.
This is desperate, Sir.
Flo.
So call it; but it does fulfil my Vow;
I needs must think it Honesty. Camillo,
Not for Bohemia, nor the Pomp that may
Be thereat gleaned; for all that the Sun sees, or
The close Earth wombs, or the profound Seas hide
In unknown Fadoms, will I break my Oath
To this my fair Belov'd: Therefore, I pray you,
As you have ever been my Father's Friend,
When he shall miss me, (as in faith I mean not
To see him any more) cast your good Counsels
Upon his Passion; let my self and Fortune
Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And so deliver, I am put to Sea
With her, whom here I cannot hold on Shore;
And most opportune to her need, I have
A Vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd
For this design. What course I mean to hold
Shall nothing benefit your Knowledge, nor
Concern me the reporting.
Cam.
O my Lord,
I would your Spirit were easier for advice,
Or stronger for your need.
Flo.
Heark, Perdita.
I'll hear you by and by.
Cam.
He's irremovable,
Resolv'd for flight: Now were I happy, if
His going I could frame to serve my turn;
Save him from danger, do him Love and Honour,
Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia,
And that unhappy King, my Master, whom
I so much thirst to see.
[Aside.
-- 950 --
Flo.
Now, good Camillo,
I am so fraught with curious Business, that
I leave out Ceremony.
Cam.
Sir, I think
You have heard of my poor Services, i'th' love
That I have born your Father?
Flo.
Very nobly
Have you deserv'd: It is my Father's Musick
To speak your Deeds; not little of his care
To have them recompenc'd, as thought on.
Cam.
Well, my Lord,
If you may please to think I love the King,
And through him, what's nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self, embrace but my direction,
If your more ponderous and setled Project
May suffer alteration: On mine Honour,
I'll point you where you shall have such receiving
As shall become your Highness, where you may
Enjoy your Mistress; from the whom, I see,
There's no disjunction to be made, but by
(As Heav'ns forefend) your Ruin. Marry her,
And with my best Endeavours, in your absence,
Your discontented Father strive to qualifie,
And bring to liking.
Flo.
How, Camillo,
May this, almost a Miracle, be done?
That I may call thee something more than Man,
And after that trust to thee?
Cam.
Have you thought on
A place whereto you'll go?
Flo.
Not any yet:
But as th' unthought-on Accident is guilty
Of what we wildly do, so we profess
Our selves to be the Slaves of Chances, and Flies
Of every Wind that blows.
Cam.
Then list to me:
This follows, if you will not change your purpose,
But undergo this Flight; make for Sicilia,
And there present your self, and your fair Princess,
(For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes;
-- 951 --
She shall be habited, as it becomes
The Partner of your Bed. Methinks I see
Leontes opening his free Arms, and weeping
His Welcomes forth; asks thee, the Son, forgiveness,
As 'twere i'th' Father's Person; kisses the Hands
Of your fresh Princess; o'er and o'er divides him,
'Twixt his unkindness, and his kindness: th'one
He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
Faster than Thought or Time.
Flo.
Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my Visitation shall I
Hold up before him?
Cam.
Sent by the King your Father
To greet him, and to give him Comforts. Sir,
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What you, as from your Father, shall deliver,
Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down,
The which shall point you forth at every sitting
What you must say, that he shall not perceive,
But that you have your Father's Bosom there,
And speak his very Heart.
Flo.
I am bound to you:
There is some Sap in this.
Cam.
A course more promising,
Than a wild Dedication of your selves
To unpath'd Waters, undream'd Shores; most certain,
To Miseries enough: No hope to help you,
But as you shake off one, to take another:
Nothing so certain, as your Anchors, who
Do their best Office, if they can but stay you,
Where you'll be loath to be: Besides, you know,
Prosperity's the very Bond of Love,
Whose fresh Complexion, and whose Heart together,
Affliction alters.
Per.
One of these is true:
I think Affliction may subdue the Cheek,
But not take in the Mind.
Cam.
Yea, say you so?
There shall not at your Father's House, these seven Years,
Be born another such.
-- 952 --
Flo.
My good Camillo,
She's as forward of her Breeding, as
She is i'th' rear o'her Birth.
Cam.
I cannot say, 'tis pity
She lacks Instructions, for she seems a Mistress
To most that teach.
Per.
Your pardon, Sir, for this.
I'll blush you Thanks.
Flo.
My prettiest Perdita—
But O, the Thorns we stand upon. Camillo,
Preserver of my Father, now of me;
The Medicine of our House; how shall we do?
We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's Son,
Nor shall appear in Sicily—
Cam.
My Lord,
Fear none of this: I think you know my Fortunes
Do all lye there: It shall be so my care
To have you Royally appointed, as if
The Scene you play were mine. For instance, Sir,
That you may know you shall not want; one word.
[They talk aside.
Enter Autolicus.
Aut.
Ha, ha, what a Fool Honesty is! and Trust, his
sworn Brother, a very simple Gentleman! I have sold all
my Trumpery; not a Counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon,
Glass, Pomander, Browch, Table-book, Ballad, Knife,
Tape, Glove, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horn-ring to keep my
Pack from fastning: They throng who should buy first, as
if my Trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a Benediction
to the Buyer; by which means, I saw whose Purse
was best in Picture; and what I saw, to my good use, I
remember'd. My good Clown (who wants but something
to be a reasonable Man) grew so in Love with the Wenches
Song, that he would not stir his Pettitoes 'till he had both
Tune and Words, which so drew the rest of the Herd to
me, that all their other Senses stuck in Ears; you might
have pinch'd a Placket, it was senseless, 'twas nothing to
geld a Codpiece of a Purse; I would have filed Keys off
that hung in Chains: No hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs
Song, and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this time
-- 953 --
of Lethargy, I pick'd and cut most of their Festival Purses:
And had not the old Man come in with a Whoo-bub against
his Daughter, and the King's Son, and scar'd my
Chowghes from the Chaff, I had not left a Purse alive in
the whole Army.
Cam.
Nay; but my Letters by this means being there,
So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.
Flo.
And those that you'll procure from King Leontes—
Cam.
Shall satisfie your Father.
Per.
Happy be you:
All that you speak, shews fair.
Cam.
Who have we here?
We'll make an Instrument of this; omit
Nothing may give us aid.
Aut.
If they have over-heard me now: why Hanging.
Cam.
How now, good Fellow,
Why shak'st thou so? Fear not, Man,
Here's no harm intended to thee.
Aut.
I am a poor Fellow, Sir.
Cam.
Why, be so still: here's no Body will steal that
from thee; yet for the outside of thy Poverty, we must
make an exchange: Therefore discase thee instantly, (thou
must think there's a Necessity in't) and change Garments
with this Gentleman: Tho' the Penny-worth, on his side,
be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot.
Aut.
I am a poor Fellow, Sir; I know ye well enough.
Cam.
Nay, prethee dispatch; the Gentleman is half flead
already.
Aut.
Are you in earnest, Sir? I smell the Trick on't.
Flo.
Dispatch, I prethee.
Aut.
Indeed I have had earnest, but I cannot with Conscience
take it.
Cam.
Unbuckle, unbuckle.
Fortunate Mistress, (let my Prophecy
Come home to ye,) you must retire your self
Into some Covert; take your Sweet-heart's Hat
And pluck it o'er your Brows, muffle your Face,
Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken
The Truth of your own seeming, that you may
-- 954 --
(For I do fear Eyes over you) to Ship-board
Get undescry'd.
Per.
I see the Play so lyes,
That I must bear a part.
Cam.
No remedy—
Have you done there?
Flo.
Should I now meet my Father,
He would not call me Son.
Cam.
Nay, you shall have no Hat:
Come Lady, come: Farewel, my Friend.
Aut.
Adieu, Sir.
Flo.
O Perdita, what have we twain forgot?
'Pray you a word.
Cam.
What I do next, shall be next to tell the King
[Aside.
Of this Escape, and whither they are bound:
Wherein my hope is, I shall so prevail,
To force him after; in whose Company
I shall review Sicilia; for whose sight,
I have a Woman's Longing.
Flo.
Fortune speed us.
Thus we set on, Camillo, to th' Sea side.
[Exit Flo. & Per.
Cam.
The swifter speed, the better.
[Exit.
Aut.
I understand the Business, I hear it: To have an
open Ear, a quick Eye, and a nimble Hand, is necessary for
a Cut-purse; a good Nose is requisite also, to smell out
work for th'other Senses. I see this is the time that the unjust
Man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been,
without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange;
sure the Gods do this Year connive at us, and we may do
any thing extempore. The Prince himself is about a piece
of Iniquity, stealing away from his Father, with his Clog at
his Heels. If I thought it were a piece of Honesty to acquaint
the King withal, I would not do't: I hold it the
more Knavery to conceal it; and therein am I constant to
my Profession.
Enter Clown and Shepherd.
Aside, aside, here's more matter for a hot Brain; Every
Lanes end, every Shop, Church, Session, Hanging, yields a
careful Man work.
-- 955 --
Clo.
See, see; what a Man you are now? There is no
other way, but to tell the King she's a Changling, and none
of your Flesh and Blood.
Shep.
Nay, but hear me.
Clo.
Nay, but hear me.
Shep.
Go to then.
Clo.
She being none of your Flesh and Blood, your Flesh
and Blood has 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 has
with her; this being done, let the Law go whistle; I warrant
you.
Shep.
I will tell the King all, every Word, yea, and his
Sons pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest Man neither
to his Father, nor to me, to go about to make me the
King's Brother-in-law.
Clo.
Indeed Brother-in-law was the farthest off you could
have been to him, and then your Blood had been the dearer
by I know how much an Ounce.
Aut.
Very wisely, Puppies.
[Aside.
Shep.
Well; let us to the King; there is that in this Farthel
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 Palace.
Aut.
Tho' I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes
by chance: Let me pocket up my Pedlers Excrement. How
now, Rustiques, whither are you bound?
Shep.
To th' Palace, and it like your Worship.
Aut.
Your Affairs there? What? with whom? the Condition
of that Farthel? the Place of your Dwelling? your
Names? your Ages? of what having? breeding, and any thing
that is fitting for to be known, discover?
Clo.
We are but plain Fellows, Sir.
Aut.
A Lie; you are rough and hairy; let me have no
lying; it becomes none but Tradesmen, and they often give
us, Soldiers, the Lie, but we pay them for it with stamped
Coin, not stabbing Steel, therefore they do not give us the
Lie.
-- 956 --
Clo.
Your Worship had like to have given us one, if you
had not taken your self with the manner.
Shep.
Are you a Courtier, and like you, Sir?
Aut.
Whether it like me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seest
thou not the Air of the Court in these Enfoldings? Hath
not my Gate in it the Measure of the Court? receives not thy
Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy Baseness,
Court-Contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, or
toaze from thee thy Business, I am therefore no Courtier?
I am Courtier Cap-a-pe; and one that will either push-on,
or pluck back, thy business there; whereupon I command
thee to open thy Affair.
Shep.
My Business, Sir, is to the King.
Aut.
What Advocate hast thou to him?
Shep.
I know not, and't like you.
Clo.
Advocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant; say you
have none.
Shep.
None, Sir; I have no Pheasant Cock, nor Hen.
Aut.
How blessed are we, that are not simple Men!
Yet Nature might have made me as these are,
Therefore I will not disdain.
Clo.
This cannot be but a great Courtier.
Shep.
His Garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomly.
Clo.
He seems to be the more Noble in being fantastical;
a great Man, I'll warrant; I know by the Picking on's
Teeth.
Aut.
The Farthel there; what's i'th' Farthel?
Wherefore that Box?
Shep.
Sir, there lyes such Secrets in this Farthel and Box,
which none must know but the King, and which he shall
know within this Hour, 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 Palace, he is gone aboard a
new Ship to purge Melancholly, and air himself; for if thou
be'st capable of things serious, thou must know the King is
full of Grief.
Shep.
So 'tis said, Sir, about his Son that should have
married a Shepherd's Daughter.
-- 957 --
Aut.
If that Shepherd be not in Hand-fast, let him fly;
the Curses he shall have, the Tortures he shall feel, will
break the Back of Man, the Heart of Monster.
Clo.
Think you so, Sir?
Aut.
Not he alone shall suffer what Wit can make heavy,
and Vengeance bitter; but those that are Germain to him,
tho' remov'd fifty times, shall all come under the Hangman;
which, tho' it be great Pity, yet it is necessary. An old
Sheep-whistling Rogue, a Ram-tender, to offer to have his
Daughter come into Grace? Some say he 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.
Has the old Man e'er a Son, Sir; do you hear, and't
like you, Sir?
Aut.
He has a Son, who shall be flay'd alive, then 'nointed
over with Honey, set on the Head of a Wasp's Nest,
then stand 'till he be three Quarters and a Dram dead;
then recover'd again with Aqua-vitæ, or some other hot
Infusion; then, raw as he is, (and in the hottest Day Prognostication
proclaims) shall he be set against a Brick-Wall,
the Sun looking with a Southward Eye upon him, where
he is to behold him, with Flies blown to Death. But
what talk we of these Traitorly-Rascals, whose Miseries are
to be smil'd at, their Offences being so capital? Tell me,
(for you seem to be honest plain Men) what you have to
the King; being something gently consider'd, I'll bring
you where he is aboard, tender your Persons to his Presence,
whisper him in your behalf; and if it be in Man, besides
the King, to effect your Suits, here is a Man shall
do it.
Clo.
He seems to be of great Authority; close with him,
give him Gold; and though Authority be a stubborn Bear,
yet he is oft led by the Nose with Gold; shew the inside
of your Purse to the outside of his Hand, and no more ado.
Remember ston'd and flay'd alive.
Shep.
And't please you, Sir, to undertake the Business
for us, here is the Gold I have; I'll make it as much
more, and leave this young Man in Pawn 'till I bring it
you.
-- 958 --
Aut.
After I have done what I promised?
Shep.
Ay, Sir.
Aut.
Well, give me the Moiety. Are you a parting in
this Business?
Clo.
In some sort, Sir; but tho' my Case be a pitiful
one, I hope I shall not be flay'd out of it.
Aut.
Oh that's the Case of the Shepherd's Son; hang
him, he'll be made an Example.
Clo.
Comfort, good Comfort; we must to the King,
and shew our strange Sights; he must know 'tis none of
your Daughter nor my Sister, we are gone else. Sir, I
will give you as much as this old Man does, when the Business
is perform'd, and remain, as he says, your Pawn 'till
it be brought you.
Aut.
I will trust you, walk before toward the Sea-side,
go on the right Hand, I will but look upon the Hedge, and
follow you.
Clo.
We are bless'd in this Man, as I may say, even
bless'd.
Shep.
Let's before, as he bids us; he was provided to do
us good.
[Exeunt Shep. and Clown.
Aut.
If I had a Mind to be honest, I see Fortune would
not suffer me; she drops Booties in my Mouth. I am
courted now with a double Occasion: Gold, and a Means
to do the Prince my Master good; which, who knows how
that may turn back to my Advancement? I will bring these
two Moals, these blind ones, aboard him; if he think it fit
to Shoar them again, and that the Complaint they have to
the King concerns him nothing, let him call me Rogue, for
being so far officious, for I am Proof against that Title, and
what Shame else belongs to't: To him will I present them,
there may be Matter in it.
[Exit.
-- 959 --
Charles Gildon [1709–1710], The works of Mr. William Shakespear; in six [seven] volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe ([Vol. 7] Printed for E. Curll... and E. Sanger [etc.], London) [word count] [S11401].
