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Offi. Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband; th pretences whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.

Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that
Which contradicts my accusation; and
The testimony on my part, no other

But what comes from myself; it shall scarce boot me
To say, Not guilty: mine integrity,
Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
Be so receiv'd. But thus,-If powers divine
Behold our human actions, (as they do,)

I doubt not then, but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny

Tremble at patience.-You, my lord, best know,
(Who least will seem to do so,) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devis'd,
And play'd to take spectators: For behold me,-
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince,-here standing
To prate and talk for life, and honor, 'fore

Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it, As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honor, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine,

And only that I stand for. I appeal

To your conscience, sir, before Polixenes

Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,

With what encounter so uncurrent I

Have strain'd to appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honor; or, in act, or will,
That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
Cry, Fye upon my grave!


I ne'er heard yet, That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did, Than to perform it first.


Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

That's true enough;

More than mistress of,

Leon. You will not own it.


Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not

At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,

(With whom I am accused,) I do confess,

I lov'd him, as in honor he required;
With such a kind of love, as might become

A lady like me; with a love, even such,
So, and no other, as yourself commanded:
Which not to have done, I think, had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude,

To you, and toward your friend; whose love had spoke,

Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely, That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,

I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd

For me to try how: all I know of it

Is, that Camillo was an honest man;

And, why he left your court, the gods themselves, Wotting no more than 1, are ignorant.

Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know What you have underta'en to do in his absence. Her. Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not:
My life stands in the level, of your dreams,
Which I'll lay down.


Your actions are my dreams;
You had a bastard by Polixenes,

And I but dream'd it:-As you were past all shame,
(Those of your facts are so,) so past all truth:
Which to deny, concerns more than avails:
For as

Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,

No father owning it, (which is, indeed,

More criminal in thee, than it,) so thou

Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage,
Look for no less than death.


Sir, spare your threats;

The bug, which you would fright ine with, I seck.

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To me can life be no commodity:
The crown and comfort of my life, your favor,
I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
But know not how it went: My second joy,
And first fruits of my body, from his presence,
I am barr'd like one infectious: My third comfort
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murder: Myself on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet; With immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege denied, which longs
To women of all fashion :-Lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i the open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die? Therefore, proceed.
But yet, hear this; mistake me not ;--No! life,
I prize it not a straw-but for mine honor,
(Which I would free,) if I shall be condemn'd
Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else,
But what your jealousies awake; I tell you,
'Tis rigor, and not law.-Your honors all,
I do refer me to the oracle;
Apollo be my judge.

1 Lord:

This your request

Is altogether just therefore, bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his oracle.

[Exeunt certain Officers.
Her. The emperor of Russia was my father:
O, that he were alive, and here beholding
His daughter's trial! that he did but see
The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes
Of pity, not revenge!

Re-enter Officers with CLEOMENES and DION. Off. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,

That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
Been both at Delphos; and from thence have brought
This seal'd up oracle, by the hand deliver'd
Of great Apollo's priest: and that, since then,
You have not dared to break the holy seal,
Nor read the secrets in't.

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Do strike at my injustice. [HERMIONE faints.] How now there?

Paul. This news is mortal to the queen:-Look down,

And see what death is doing.
Take her hence:
Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover.—
I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion :-
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life.-Apollo, pardon

[Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERM.
My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle!-
I'll reconcile me to Polixenes;
New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo,
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy:
For, being transported by my jealousies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister, to poison

i. e. The degree of strength which it is customary to acquire before women are suffered to go abroad after child-bearing.

Of the event of the queen's trial.

My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My swift command, though I with death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done: he, most humane,
And fill'd with honor, to my kingly guest
Unclasp'd my practice; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended.
No richer than his honor:-How he glisters
Through my rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!


Re-enter PAULINA.

Woe the while! O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it, Break too!

1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady? Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boiling, In leads, or oils? what old, or newer torture Must I receive; whose every word deserves To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny Together working with thy jealousies,Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle For girls of nine!-0, think, what they have done, And then run mad, indeed; stark mad! for all Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, And damnable ungrateful: nor was't much, Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honor, To have him kill a king; poor trespasses, More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter, To be or none, or little; though a devil Would have shed water out of fire, ere done't; Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death Of the young prince, whose honorable thoughts (Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no, Laid to thy answer: But the last.-0, lords, When I have said, cry, woe !-the queen, the queen, The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and vengeance for't

Not dropp'd down yet. 1 Lord.

The higher powers forbid! Paul. I say, she's dead; I'll swear't: if word, nor oath,

Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture or lustre, in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you
As I would do the gods.-But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir: therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.


Go on, go on:

Thou canst not speak too much I have deserv'd All tongues to talk their bitterest.

1 Lord.

Say no more; Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I'the boldness of your speech.


I am sorry for't;

All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much
The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd

To the noble heart.-What's gone, and what's past help,

Should be past grief: Do not receive affliction
At my petition, I beseech you; rather
Let me be punish'd, that have minded you

Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:

The love I bore your queen,-lo, fool again!-
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember you of my own lord,

Who is lost too: Take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.

Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth; which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Prythee, bring me
To the dead bodies of my queen and son:
One grave shall be for both; upon them shall

i. e. A devil wou'd have shed tears of pity, ere he would have perpetrated such an action.

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SCENE III-Bohemia. A desert Country near the Sea.

Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mariner. Ant. Thou art 'perfect' then, our ship hath touch'd upon

The deserts of Bohemia?
Ay, my lord, and fear
We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly,
And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry,
And frown upon us.

Ant. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get aboard;
Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before
I call upon thee.

Mar. Make your best haste; and go not
Too far i'the land: 'tis like to be loud weather;
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
Of prey, that keep upon't.

I'll follow instantly.


Go thou away:

I am glad at heart

To be so rid o'the business. Ant.

[Exit. Come, poor babe :

I have heard, (but not believ'd,) the spirits of the dead

May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another;
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill'd, and so becoming in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me;
And gasping to begin some speech, her cycs
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her; Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor bube, according to thine oath,-
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,

I prythee, call'; for this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shail sce
Thy wife Paulina more:-and so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,

I did in time collect myself; and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,

I will be squared by this. I do believe,
Hermione hath suffer'd death; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid,
Either for life, or death, upon the earth
Of its right father.-Blossom, speed thee well!
[Laying down the Child.
There lie; and there thy character: there these;
[Laying down a bundle.
Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee,

And still rest thine.-The storm begins:-Poor wretch,

That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd
To loss, and what may follow!-Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds and most accurs'd am I,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell!
The day frowns more and more; thou art like to have
A lullaby too rough: I never saw

The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamor ?--
Well may I get aboard!-This is the chase;

I am gone forever. [Exit, pursued by a Bear.

Enter an old Shepherd.

Shep. I would there were no age between ten and three and twenty; or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the 1 Well assured.

The writing afterward discovered with Perdita. a Child. 4 Female infant.

Shep. Name of mercy, when was this, boy? Clo. Now, now; I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman: he's at it now.

Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped the old man!

ancientry, stealing, fighting.-Hark you now!-tleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roar Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen, and ing louder than sea or weather. two and twenty, hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep; which, I fear, the wolf will sooner find, than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browzing on ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here! Taking up the Child.] Mercy on's, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy, or a child, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one: Sure, some scape: though I am not bookish, yet I can read waitinggentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-doorwork: they were warmer that got this, than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity: Yet I'll tarry till my son come; he halloed but even now. Whoa, họ hoa!

Clo. Hilloa, loa!

Enter Clown.

Shep. What, art so near? if thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man?

Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land; but I am not to say, it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

Shep. Why, boy, how is it?

Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her; there your charity would have lacked footing. Aside. Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying, I with things new-born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth® for a squire's child! Look thee here: take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let's see: It was told me, I should be rich by the fairies: this is some changeling:open't: What's within, boy?

Clo. You're a made old man: if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! a gold!

Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with it, keep it close; home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so still, requires nothing but secrecy.-Let my sheep go:Come, good boy, the next way home.

Clo. Go you the next way with your findings; I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much he hath eaten: they are never curst, but when they are hungry if there be any of him left, I'll bury it.


Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the point: O. the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see em: now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast; and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a bogshead. And then for the land service.-To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman:-But to Clo. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put make an end of the ship: to see how the sea flap-him i'the ground. dragoned it:-but, first, how the poor souls roared, Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good and the sea mocked them;-and how the poor gen

Enter Time, as Chorus.

Shep. That's a good deed: If thou mayst dis cern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to the sight of him.

deeds on't.


Time. I,-that please some, try all; both joy and


Of good and bad; that make, and unfold error,-
Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime,
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide
O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried
Of that wide gap: since it is in my power
To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour
To plant and o'erwhelm custom: Let me pass
The same I am, ere ancient'st order was,
Or what is now received: I witness to
The times that brought them in; so shall I do
To the freshest things now reigning; and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass; and give my scene such growing,
As you had slept between. Leontes leaving
The effects of his fond jealousies; so grieving,
That he shuts up himself; imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bohemia; and remember well,

I mentioned a son o`the king's, which Florizel
I now name to you; and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wond'ring: What of her ensues,
I list not prophecy; but let Time's news
Be known, when 'tis brought forth: -a shepherd's

And what to her adheres which follows after,
Is the argument of time: Of this allow,
If ever you have spent time worse ere now;
If never yet, that Time himself doth say,
He wishes earnestly, you never inay.


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Cam. It is fifteen years, since I saw my country. though I have, for the most part, been aired abroad I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the peni tent king, my master, hath sent for me: to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'er ween to think so; which is another spur to my departure.

Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not ou the rest of thy services, by leaving me now: the need I have of thee, thine own goodness hath made better not to have had thee, than thus to want thee: thou, having made the businesses, which none, with out thee, can sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute them thyself, or take away with thee the very services thou hast done: which if I have not enough considered, (as too much I cannot,) to be more thankful to thee, shall be my study; and my profit therein, the heaping friendships. Of that fatal country, Sicilia, prythee speak no more: whose very naming punishes me with the remem brance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen, and children, are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them, when they have approved their virtues.

Cam. Sir, it is three days, since I saw the prince: What his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I have, missingly, noted, he is of late much retired from court; and is less frequent to his princely exercises, than formerly he hath appeared.

Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo; and, with some care; so far, that I have eyes under my service, which look upon his removedness; from whom I have this intelligence: That he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd; a man they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors, is grown into an unspeakable estate.

Cam. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note: the report of her is The mantle in which a child was carried to be baptized. Think too highly of myself. Observed at intervals

extended more, than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.

Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence. But, I fear the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the place: where we will, not appearing what we are, have some question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity, I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Prythee, be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicília. Cam. I willingly obey your command. Pol. My best Camillo!-We must disguise ourselves. [Exeunt. SCENE II-A Road near the Shepherd's Cottage. Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing.

When daffodils begin to peer,—

With heigh! the doxy over the dale,-
Why then comes in the sweet o'the year;

For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
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-lirra chants,—

With, hey! with hey! the thrush and the jay: Are summers' songs for me and my aunts, While we lie tumbling in the hay

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 gar ments he hath left with thee; if this be a horseman'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. Aut. O, good sir, softly, good sir: I fear, 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, sir. I have a kinsman not past three-quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or anything I want; 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 it, to make

I have served prince Florizel, and, in my time, wore it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide. 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.

Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a [Sings. 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 Autoly

My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me, Autolycus; who, being, as am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles: With die, and drab, 1 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! prize!

Enter Clown.

Clo. Let me see:-Every 'leven weather-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 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 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 color the warden pies; mace,-tales, 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 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 offends me more than the stripes I have received; which are mighty ones and millions.

Clo. Alas, poor man! a million of heating 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.

Rich velvet.

* Singers of catches in three parts.

s Pies made of a species of pears.

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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, 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 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!

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.
SCENE III-A Shepherd's Cottage.



Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you
Do give a life: no shepherdess; but Flora,
Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing
is as a meeting of the petty gods,
And you the queen on't.

Sir, my gracious lord,
To chide at your extremes, it not becomes me:
O, pardon, that I name them: your high self,
The gracious mark1 o' the land, you have obscured
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 attired; sworn, I think,
To show myself a glass.

• The machine used in the game of pigeon holes.
Puppet-show. Take hold of. 9 Excesses.
Object of all men's notice. "Dressed with ostentation.


I bless the time, made her light across

When my good falcon
Thy father's ground.
Now Jove afford you cause!
To me the differences forges dread; your greatness
Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble
To think, your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did : 0, the fates!
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?

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 chaste: since my desires
Run not before mine honor; nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.


O but, dear sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'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 forced thoughts, I prythee, darken not
The 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.

Stand you auspicious!


Do you neglect them? Per.

Wherefore, gentle maiden,

For I have heard it said,

There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares
With great creating nature.

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 marry

A gentle scion 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 itself is nature.

So it is.

Per. Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers, And do not call them bastards. I'll not put


The dibble 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 there-

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You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through.-Now, my
fairest friend,

I would, I had some flowers o'the spring, that might
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours;
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing:-0 Proserpina,
For the flowers now, that frighted, thou let'st fall
From Dis's waggon! daffodils,

That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
O lady fortune, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one! O, these, I lack,
To make you garlands of; and my sweet friend,
To strew him o'er and o'er.

Enter Shepherd with POLIENES and CAMILLO,
disguised; Clown, Morsi, DORCAS, and others
See your guests approach:
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.
Shep. Fye, daughter! when my old wife liv'd,

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'the table, now, i'the middle;
On his shoulder, and his: her face o'fire
With labor; and the thing, 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 us welcome, for it is
A way to make us better friends, more known.
Come, quench your blushes and present yourself
That which you are, mistress o'the feast: Come on,
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
As your good flock shall prosper.
Welcome, sir! To POL.
It is my father's will, I should take on me
The hostess-ship o'the day :-You're welcome, sir!
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend

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



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


What? like a corse?
Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on;
Not like a corse: or if,--not to be buried,
But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your

Methinks, I play as I have seen them do
In Whitsun' pastorals: sure, this robe of mine
Does change my disposition.

What you do,
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
I'd have you do it ever: when you sing.
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing them too: When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o'the 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.
O Doricles,
Your praises are too large: but that your youth,
And the true blood, which fairly peeps 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.


I think, you have
As little skill to fear, as I have purpose
To put you to't.-But, come; our dance, I pray:

Sir, the year growing ancient,-Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, -the fairest flowers o'the


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