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 gazed 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 choose,
Who loves another best.

Serv. O master, if you did but hear the pedler 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 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.

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 harm, good man; puts him off, slights him, with Whoop, do me no hirm, good man.

Pol. This is a brave fellow.

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

Serv. He hath ribands of all the colors i'the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers in 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. Prythee, 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 pedlers, 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 their 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 lasses cry;
Come, buy, &c.

A valuable tract of pasturage.

1 Neatly.

The cuffs.

• Truth.

2 Plain Goods. A kind of tape. The work about the bosom.

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me; but being enthralled 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 hath 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 kiln-hole, to whistle of these secrets; but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispering: Clamor your tongues, 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 not 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 pallad 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-moneybags 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 ine 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.

Aul. 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. Is it true, think you?

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

Clo. Lay it by: Another.

Aut. This is a merry ballad; but a very pretty one. Mop. Let's have some merry one.

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.

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 ourselves; My father and the gentleman are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them: come, bring away thy pack

Fire-place for drying malt; still a noted gossiping place.
Ring a dumb peal.
• Serious

A lace to wear about the head or waist.

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 a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not in't; but they themselves are o the 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 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.

[Exit.

Shep. Leave your prating; since these good men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now. Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir. Re-enter Servant, with twelve Rustics habited like Satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt. Pol. O, Father, you'll know more of that here

after.

Is it not too far gone?-'tis time to part them.— He's simple, and tells much. [Aside.)-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

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 marteds 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 pack'd and lock'd
Up in my heart; which I have given already,
But not deliver'd.-0, hear me breathe 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

Cam. This shows a sound affection. Shep.

Per.

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

Take hands, a bargain :

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

Shep. And, daughter, yours. Po'.

Come, your hand ;

Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you:

Have you a father?

He neither does, nor shall,

Pol. Methinks, a father That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more; Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest Is not your father grown incapable with age and altering rheums? Can he speak? hear? Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing, Know man from man? dispute his own estate ?* 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 Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason, But fair posterity) should hold some counsel The father (all whose joy is nothing else

Mark your divorce, young sir,
Discovering himself.

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 piece
Of excellent witchcraft; who, of force must know
The royal fool thou cop'st with ;-

Shep.
O, 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,

Speak, ere thou diest.

Shep

Looks on alike.-Wilt please you, sir, begone?!
To FLORIZEL.
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 further,
But milk my ewes, and weep.
Cam.
Why, how now, father?
I cannot speak, nor think,
Nor dare to know that which I know.-O, sir,
You have undone a man of fourscore three, (To FLO.
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 wouldst ad-

Even he, my lord.

Well, my lord,

If you may please to think I love the king;
And through him. what is nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self; embrace but my direction,
(If your more ponderous and settled project
May suffer alteration,) on mine honor
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 heavens forefend! your ruin;) marry her;
And (with my best endeavors, in your absence)
Your discontenting3 father strive to qualify,
And bring him up 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 the unthought-on accident is guilty
To what we wildly do; so we profess
Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, 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 yourself, and your fair princess,
(For so, I see, she must be,) 'fore Leontes;
She shall be habited, as it becomes

The partner of your bed. Methinks, I see
Leontes, opening his free arms, and weeping

But till 'twere known?

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 glean'd; for all the sun sees, or
The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide
In unknown fathoms, 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 ine, (as, in faith, I mean not
To see him any more.) cast your good counsels
Upon his passion: Let myself 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 oppórtune to our need, I have
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared

For this design. What course I mean to hold,
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concerns me the reporting.

Cam.

O, my lord,

I would your spirit were easier for advice, Or stronger for your need.

.

Flo. Hark, Perdita.-[Takes her aside. I'll hear you by and by. [TO CAMILLO. Cam. He's irremovable, Resolved for flight: Now were I happy, if His going I could frame to serve my turn; Save him from danger, do him love and honor; Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia, And that unhappy king, my master, whom 1 so much thirst to see. Flo.

Now, good Camillo,

I am so fraught with curious business, that

I leave out ceremony.

Cam.

Sir, I think,

Going.

You have heard of my poor services, i'the love That I have borne your father?

As 'twere i'the father's person: kisses the hands
Of your fresh princess: o'er and o'er divides him
'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one
He chides to hell, and bids the other grow,
Faster than thought, or time.
Flo.

Worthy Camillo,
What color 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. There is some sap in this. Cam.

I am bound to you;

A course more promising
Than a wild dedication of yourselves
To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores; most cer-
tain,

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.

• Conquer.

reflect I not on thy baseness, court-contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, or toze from thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier cap-á-pe; and one that will either push on, or pluck back thy business there: whereupon 1 command thee to open thy affair.

Shep. My business, sir, is to the king. Aul. What advocate hast thou to him? Shep. I know not, an't like you. Clo. Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant; say, you have none.

Shep. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock, nor ben.

Aut. How bless'd are we, that are not simple men! Yet nature might have made me as these are, Therefore I'll not disdain.

Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely.

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 fardel there? what's i' the fardel? Wherefore that box?

Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel, and box, which none must know but the king; and which he shall know within this hour, if I may come to the speech of him.

Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labor.
Shep. Why, sir?

Aul. The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy, and air hi self: For if thou be st capable of things serious, th ou must know, the king is full of grief.

Shep. So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that should have married a shepherd's daughter.

Aut. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him tly; 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 germane to him though removed fifty times, shall all come under the hangman: which though 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 stoned; but that death is too soft for him, say 1: Draw our throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy.

Clo. Has the old inan e'er a son, sir, do you hear, an't like you, sir?

Aut. He has a son, who shall be flayed 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 recovered again with aquavitæ, 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 smiled 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 considered, I'll bring you where he is aboard, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalts; and, if it be in man, besides the king, to effect your suits, here is the 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: show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, and no more ado: Remember, stoned and flayed alive.

Shep. An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, here is that gold I have: I'll make it as much more; and leave this young man in pawn, till I bring it to you.

Aut. After I have done what I promised?
Shep. Ay, sir.

Aul. Well, give me the moiety-Are you a party in this business!

Clo. In some sort, sir; but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be layed out of it. Aut. O, 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 show 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 inan does, w'en the bus.ness is performed; and remain, as he sees, your pawn, till it be brought you.

Aut. I w. r.st 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 blessed in this man, as I may say; even blessed.

Shep. Let's before, as he bids us. he was provided to do us good.

[Exeunt Shepherd 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 moles, these blind ones, aboard him: if he think it fit to shore 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.

Kill'd!

I think so. She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strik'st me Sorely to say I did; it is as bitter Upon thy tongue, as in my thought: Now, good

You might have spoken a thousand things that would

Have done the time more benefit, and graced
Your kindness better.

Paul.
You are one of those,
Would have him wed again.
Dion.
If you would not so,
You pity not the state, nor the remembrance
Of his most sovereign dame; consider little,
What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue,
May drop upon his kingdom, and devour
Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy,
What holier, than,-for royalty's repair,
Than to rejoice, the former queen is well?
For present comfort, and for future good,-
To bless the bed of majesty again
With a sweet fellow to't?

The hottest day foretold in the almanac.
Being handsomely bribed.