Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Winters Tale/Act 4 Scene 4

Scena Quarta.


Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo, Mopsa, Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.
Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of youDo's giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but FloraPeering in Aprils front. This your sheepe-shearing,Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,And you the Queene on't.
Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord,To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me:(Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfeThe gracious marke o'th' Land, you haue obscur'dWith a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide)Most Goddesse-like prank'd vp: But that our FeastsIn euery Messe, haue folly; and the FeedersDigest with a Custome, I should blushTo see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke,To shew my selfe a glasse.
Flo. I blesse the timeWhen my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosseThy Fathers ground.
Perd. Now Ioue affoord you cause:To me the difference forges dread (your GreatnesseHath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I trembleTo thinke your Father, by some accidentShould passe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates,How would he looke, to see his worke, so noble,Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or howShould I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) beholdThe sternnesse of his presence?
Flo. ApprehendNothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues(Humbling their Deities to loue) haue takenThe shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter,Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene NeptuneA Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-GodGolden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine,As I seeme now. Their transformations,Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer,Nor in a way so chaste: since my desiresRun not before mine honor: nor my LustsBurne hotter then my Faith.
Perd. O but Sir,Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tisOppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King:One of these two must be necessities,Which then will speake, that you must change this purpose,Or I my life.
Flo. Thou deer'st Perdita,With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken notThe Mirth o'th' Feast: Or Ile be thine (my Faire)Or not my Fathers. For I cannot beMine owne, nor any thing to any, ifI be not thine. To this I am most constant,Though destiny say no. Be merry (Gentle)Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thingThat you behold the while. Your guests are comming:Lift vp your countenance, as it were the dayOf celebration of that nuptiall, whichWe two haue sworne shall come.
Perd. O Lady Fortune,Stand you auspicious.
Flo. See, your Guests approach,Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly,And let's be red with mirth.
Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vponThis day, she was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke,Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all: seru'd all,Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heereAt vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle:On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fireWith labour, and the thing she tooke to quench itShe would to each one sip. You are retyred,As if you were a feasted one: and notThe Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bidThese vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it isA way to make vs better Friends, more knowne.Come, quench your blushes, and present your selfeThat which you are, Mistris o'th' Feast. Come on,And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing,As your good flocke shall prosper.
Perd. Sir, welcome:It is my Fathers will, I should take on meeThe Hostesseship o'th' day: you're welcome sir.Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs,For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepeSeeming, and sauour all the Winter long:Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,And welcome to our Shearing.
Pol. Shepherdesse,(A faire one are you:) well you fit our agesWith flowres of Winter.
Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,Not yet on summers death, nor on the birthOf trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o'th seasonAre our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors,(Which some call Natures bastards) of that kindOur rusticke Gardens barren, and I care notTo get slips of them.
Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)Do you neglect them.
Perd. For I haue heard it said,There is an Art, which in their pidenesse sharesWith great creating-Nature.
Pol. Say there be:Yet Nature is made better by no meane,But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art,(Which you say addes to Nature) is an ArtThat Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marryA gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke,And make conceyue a barke of baser kindeBy bud of Nobler race. This is an ArtWhich do's mend Nature: change it rather, butThe Art it selfe, is Nature.
Perd. So it is.
Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors,And do not call them bastards.
Perd. Ile not putThe Dible in earth, to set one slip of them:No more then were I painted, I would wishThis youth should say 'twer well: and onely thereforeDesire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you:Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun,And with him rises, weeping: These are flowresOf middle summer, and I thinke they are giuenTo men of middle age. Y'are very welcome.
Cam. I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke,And onely liue by gazing.
Perd. Out alas:You'ld be so leane, that blasts of IanuaryWould blow you through and through. Now (my fairst Friend,I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring, that mightBecome your time of day: and yours, and yours,That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yetYour Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fallFrom Dysses Waggon: Daffadils,That come before the Swallow dares, and takeThe windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim,But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes,Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses,That dye vnmarried, ere they can beholdBright Phœbus in his strength (a MaladieMost incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, andThe Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds,(The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke,To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend,To strew him o're, and ore.
Flo. What? like a Coarse?
Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on:Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried,But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours,Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them doIn Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mineDo's change my disposition:
Flo. What you do,Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet)I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing,I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes,Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres,To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish youA waue o'th Sea, that you might euer doNothing but that: moue still, still so:And owne no other Function. Each your doing,(So singular, in each particular)Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds,That all your Actes, are Queenes.
Perd. O Doricles,Your praises are too large: but that your youthAnd the true blood which peepes fairely through't,Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd ShepherdWith wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles)You woo'd me the false way.
Flo. I thinke you haueAs little skill to feare, as I haue purposeTo put you to't. But come, our dance I pray,Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paireThat neuer meane to part.
Perd. Ile sweare for 'em.
Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euerRan on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemesBut smackes of something greater then her selfe,Too Noble for this place.
Cam. He tels her somethingThat makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she isThe Queene of Curds and Creame.
Clo. Come on: strike vp.
Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlickto mend her kissing with.
Mop. Now in good time.
Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners,Come, strike vp.
Heere a Daunce of Shepheards andShephearddesses.
Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this,Which dances with your daughter?
Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfeTo haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue itVpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter,I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the MooneVpon the water, as hee'l stand and readeAs 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine,I thinke there is not halfe a kisse to chooseWho loues another best.
Pol. She dances featly.
Shep. So she do's any thing, though I report itThat should be silent: If yong DoriclesDo light vpon her, she shall bring him thatWhich he not dreames of.
Enter Seruant.
Ser. O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at thedoore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor andPipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singesseuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money: hee vttersthem as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew tohis Tunes.
Clo. He could neuer come better: hee shall come in:I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull mattermerrily set downe: or a very pleasant thing indeede, andsung lamentably.
Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes:No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he hasthe prettiest Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie(which is strange,) with such delicate burthens of Dildo'sand Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and wheresome stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meanemischeefe, and breake a fowle gap into the Matter, heemakes the maid to answere, Whoop, doe me no harme goodman: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, doe mee noharme good man.
Pol. This is a braue fellow.
Clo. Beleeue mee, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares?
Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Rainebow; Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, canlearnedly handle, though they come to him by th' grosse:Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he singsem ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you wouldthinke a Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes tothe sleeue-hand, and the worke about the square on't.
Clo. Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach singing.
Perd. Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous wordsin's tunes.
Clow. You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more inthem, then youl'd thinke (Sister.)
Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke.
Enter Autolicus singing.
Lawne as white as driuen Snow,Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow,Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses,Maskes for faces, and for noses:Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,Perfume for a Ladies Chamber:Golden Quoifes, and StomachersFor my Lads, to giue their deers:Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele.What Maids lacke from head to heele:Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy,Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy.
Clo. If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldsttake no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it willalso be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues.
Mop. I was promis'd them against the Feast, but theycome not too late now.
Dor. He hath promis'd you more then that, or therebe lyars.
Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: May behe has paid you more, which will shame you to giue himagaine.
Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? Will theyweare 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 mustbe tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they arewhispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more.
Mop. I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdry-lace, and a paire of sweet Gloues.
Clo. Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by theway, and lost all my money.
Aut. And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, therfore it behooues men to be wary.
Clo. Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here
Aut. I hope so sir, for I haue about me many parcelsof charge.
Clo. What hast heere? Ballads?
Mop. Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, alife, for then we are sure they are true.
Aut. Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsurers wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs ata burthen, and how she long'd to eate Adders heads, andToads carbonado'd.
Mop. Is it true, thinke you?
Aut. Very true, and but a moneth old.
Dor. Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer.
Aut. Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist. Talo-Porter,and fiue or six honest Wiues, 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: Wee'l buy the other things anon.
Aut. Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appearedvpon the coast, on wensday the fourescore of April, fortiethousand fadom aboue water, & sung this ballad againstthe hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a Woman, and was turn'd into a cold fish, for she wold not exchange flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is verypittifull, and as true.
Dor. Is it true too, thinke you.
Autol. Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses morethen my packe will hold.
Clo. Lay it by too; another.
Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
Mop. Let's haue some merry ones.
Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to thetune of two maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maidewestward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you.
Mop. We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thoushalt heare, 'tis in three parts.
Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe.
Aut. I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my occupation: Haue at it with you:
SongGet you hence, for I must goeAut.Where it fits not you to know.Dor. Whether?Mop. O whether?Dor. Whether?Mop. It becomes thy oath full well,Thou to me thy secrets tell.Dor: Me too: Let me go thether: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 sworne my Loue to be,Mop: Thou hast sworne it more to mee.Then whether goest? Say whether?
Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: MyFather, and the Gent. are in sad talke, & wee'll not troublethem: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ilebuy for you both: Pedler let's haue the first choice; folowme girles.
Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.
Song.Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape?My dainty Ducke, my deere-a?Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your headOf the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a.Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler,Exit.That doth vtter all mens ware-a.
Seruant. Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shepherds, three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds yt haue made themselues all men of haire, they cal themselues Saltiers,and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gally-maufrey of Gambols, because they are not in't: butthey themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too roughfor some, that know little but bowling) it will pleaseplentifully.
Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene toomuch homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wearie you.
Pol. You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's seethese foure-threes of Heardsmen.
Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,)hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of thethree, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire.
Shep. Leaue your prating, since these good men arepleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now.
Ser. Why, they stay at doore Sir.
Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.
Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter:Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them,He's simple, and tels much. How now (faire shepheard)Your heart is full of something, that do's takeYour minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong,And handed loue, as you do; I was wontTo load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransacktThe Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr'd itTo her acceptance: you haue let him go,And nothing marted with him. If your LasseInterpretation should abuse, and call thisYour lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straitedFor a reply at least, if you make a careOf happie holding her.
Flo. Old Sir, I knowShe prizes not such trifles as these are:The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and locktVp in my heart, which I haue giuen already,But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my lifeBefore this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme)Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand,As soft as Doues-downe, and as white as it,Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd snow, that's boltedBy th' Northerne blasts, twice ore.
Pol. What followes this?How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to washThe hand, was faire before? I haue put you out,But to your protestation: Let me heareWhat you professe.
Flo. Do, and be witnesse too't.
Pol. And this my neighbour too?
Flo. And he, and moreThen he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all;That were I crown'd the most Imperiall MonarchThereof most worthy: were I the fayrest youthThat euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledgeMore then was euer mans, I would not prize themWithout her Loue; for her, employ them all,Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice,Or to their owne perdition.
Pol. Fairely offer'd.
Cam. This shewes a sound affection.
Shep. But my daughter,Say you the like to him.
Per. I cannot speakeSo well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane betterBy th' patterne of mine owne thoughts, I cut outThe puritie of his.
Shep. Take hands, a bargaine;And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't:I giue my daughter to him, and will makeHer Portion, equall his.
Flo. O, that must beeI'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead,I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet,Enough then for your wonder: but come-on,Contract vs fore these Witnesses.
Shep. Come, your hand:And daughter, yours.
Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you,Haue you a Father?
Flo. I haue: but what of him?
Pol. Knowes he of this?
Flo. He neither do's, nor shall.
Pol. Me-thinkes a Father,Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guestThat best becomes the Table: Pray you once moreIs not your Father growne incapeableOf reasonable affayres? Is he not stupidWith Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare?Know man, from man? Dispute his owne estate?Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothingBut what he did, being childish?
Flo. No good Sir:He has his health, and ampler strength indeedeThen most haue of his age.
Pol. By my white beard,You offer him (if this be so) a wrongSomething vnfilliall: Reason my sonneShould choose himselfe a wife, but as good reasonThe Father (all whose ioy is nothing elseBut faire posterity) should hold some counsaileIn such a businesse.
Flo. I yeeld all this;But for some other reasons (my graue Sir)Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaintMy Father of this businesse.
Pol. Let him know't.
Flo. He shall not.
Pol. Prethee let him.
Flo. No, he must not.
Shep. Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeueAt knowing of thy choice.
Flo. Come, come, he must not:Marke our Contract.
Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong sir)Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too baseTo be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire,That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor,I am sorry, that by hanging thee, I canBut shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peeceOf excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must knowThe royall Foole thou coap'st with.
Shep. Oh my heart.
Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & madeMore homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy)If I may euer know thou dost but sigh,That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuerI meane thou shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession,Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin,Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words)Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time(Though full of our displeasure) yet we free theeFrom the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment, Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too,That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein)Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thouThese rurall Latches, to his entrance open,Or hope his body more, with thy embraces,I will deuise a death, as cruell for theeExit.As thou art tender to't.
Perd. Euen heere vndone:I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twiceI was about to speake, and tell him plainely,The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court,Hides not his visage from our Cottage, butLookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone?I told you what would come of this: Beseech youOf your owne state take care: This dreame of mineBeing now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther,But milke my Ewes, and weepe.
Cam. Why how now Father,Speake ere thou dyest.
Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke,Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir,You haue vndone a man of fourescore three,That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea,To dye vpon the bed my father dy'de,To lye close by his honest bones; but nowSome Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay meWhere no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch,That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduentureTo mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone:If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'dExit.To die when I desire.
Flo. Why looke you so vpon me?I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid,But nothing altred: What I was, I am:More straining on, for plucking backe; not followingMy leash vnwillingly.
Cam. Gracious my Lord,You know my Fathers temper: at this timeHe will allow no speech: (which I do ghesseYou do not purpose to him:) and as hardlyWill he endure your sight, as yet I feare;Then till the fury of his Highnesse settleCome not before him.
Flo. I not purpose it:I thinke Camillo.
Cam. Euen he, my Lord.
Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus?How often said my dignity would lastBut till 'twer knowne?
Flo. It cannot faile, but byThe violation of my faith, and thenLet Nature crush the sides o'th earth together,And marre the seeds within. Lift vp thy lookes:From my succession wipe me (Father) IAm heyre to my affection.
Cam. Be aduis'd.
Flo. I am: and by my fancie, if my ReasonWill thereto be obedient: I haue reason:If not, my sences better pleas'd with madnesse,Do bid it welcome.
Cam. This is desperate (sir.)
Flo. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow:I needs must thinke it honesty. Camillo,Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that mayBe thereat gleaned: for all the Sun sees, orThe close earth wombes, or the profound seas, hidesIn vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oathTo this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you,As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend,When he shall misse me, as (in faith I meane notTo see him any more) cast your good counsailesVpon his passion: Let my selfe, and FortuneTug for the time to come. This you may know,And so deliuer, I am put to SeaWith her, who heere I cannot hold on shore:And most opportune to her neede, I haueA Vessell rides fast by, but not prepar'dFor this designe. What course I meane to holdShall nothing benefit your knowledge, norConcerne me the reporting.
Cam. O my Lord,I would your spirit were easier for aduice,Or stronger for your neede.
Flo. Hearke Perdita,Ile heare you by and by.
Cam. Hee's irremoueable,Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy ifHis going, I could frame to serue my turne,Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor,Purchase the sight againe of deere Sicillia,And that vnhappy King, my Master, whomI so much thirst to see.
Flo. Now good Camillo,I am so fraught with curious businesse, thatI leaue out ceremony.
Cam. Sir, I thinkeYou haue heard of my poore seruices, i'th loueThat I haue borne your Father?
Flo. Very noblyHaue you deseru'd: It is my Fathers MusickeTo speake your deeds: not little of his careTo haue them recompenc'd, as thought on.
Cam. Well (my Lord)If you may please to thinke I loue the King,And through him, what's neerest to him, which isYour gracious selfe; embrace but my direction,If your more ponderous and setled proiectMay suffer alteration. On mine honor,Ile point you where you shall haue such receiuingAs shall become your Highnesse, where you mayEnioy your Mistris; from the whom, I seeThere's no disiunction to be made, but by(As heauens forefend) your ruine: Marry her,And with my best endeuours, in your absence,Your discontenting Father, striue to qualifieAnd bring him vp to liking.
Flo. How CamilloMay this (almost a miracle) be done?That I may call thee something more then man,And after that trust to thee.
Cam. Haue you thought onA place whereto you'l go?
Flo. Not any yet:But as th' vnthought-on accident is guiltieTo what we wildely do, so we professeOur selues to be the slaues of chance, and flyesOf euery winde that blowes.
Cam. Then list to me:This followes, if you will not change your purposeBut vndergo this flight: make for Sicillia,And there present your selfe, and your fayre Princesse,(For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes; She shall be habited, as it becomesThe partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I seeLeontes opening his free Armes, and weepingHis Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne forgiuenesse,As 'twere i'th' Fathers person: kisses the handsOf your fresh Princesse; ore and ore diuides him,'Twixt his vnkindnesse, and his Kindnesse: th' oneHe chides to Hell, and bids the other growFaster then Thought, or Time.
Flo. Worthy Camillo,What colour for my Visitation, shall IHold vp before him?
Cam. Sent by the King your FatherTo greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir,The manner of your bearing towards him, withWhat you (as from your Father) shall deliuer,Things knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe,The which shall point you forth at euery sittingWhat you must say: that he shall not perceiue,But that you haue your Fathers Bosome there,And speake his very Heart.
Flo. I am bound to you:There is some sappe in this.
Cam. A Course more promising,Then a wild dedication of your seluesTo vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; most certaine,To Miseries enough: no hope to helpe you,But as you shake off one, to take another:Nothing so certaine, as your Anchors, whoDoe their best office, if they can but stay you,Where you'le be loth to be: besides you know,Prosperitie's the very bond of Loue,Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together,Affliction alters.
Perd. One of these is true:I thinke Affliction may subdue the Cheeke,But not take-in the Mind.
Cam. Yea? say you so?There shall not, at your Fathers House, these seuen yeeresBe borne another such.
Flo. My good Camillo,She's as forward, of her Breeding, asShe is i'th' reare' our Birth.
Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pittyShe lacks Instructions, for she seemes a MistresseTo most that teach.
Perd. Your pardon Sir, for this,Ile blush you Thanks.
Flo. My prettiest Perdita.But O, the Thornes we stand vpon: (Camillo)Preseruer of my Father, now of me,The Medicine of our House: how shall we doe?We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's Sonne,Nor shall appeare in Sicilia.
Cam. My Lord,Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunesDoe all lye there: it shall be so my care,To haue you royally appointed, as ifThe Scene you play, were mine. For instance Sir,That you may know you shall not want: one word.
Enter Autolicus.
Aut. Ha, ha, what a Foole Honestie is? and Trust (hissworne brother) a very simple Gentleman. I haue soldall my Tromperie: not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon,Glasse, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke, Ballad, Knife,Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepemy Pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first,as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer: by which meanes, I saw whosePurse was best in Picture; and what I saw, to my goodvse, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but something to be a reasonable man) grew so in loue with theWenches Song, that hee would not stirre his Petty-toes,till he had both Tune and Words, which so drew the restof the Heard to me, that all their other Sences stucke inEares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was sencelesse; 'twas nothing to gueld a Cod-peece of a Purse: Iwould haue fill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes: nohearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring theNothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I pickdand cut most of their Festiuall Purses: And had not theold-man come in with a Whoo-bub against his Daughter, and the Kings Sonne, and scar'd my Chowghes fromthe Chaffe, I had not left a Purse aliue in the wholeArmy.
Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being thereSo soone as you arriue, shall cleare that doubt.
Flo. And those that you'le procure from King Leontes?
Cam. Shall satisfie your Father.
Perd. Happy be you:All that you speake, shewes faire.
Cam. Who haue we here?Wee'le make an Instrument of this: omitNothing may giue vs aide.
Aut. If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging.
Cam. How now (good Fellow)Why shak'st thou so? Feare not (man)Here's no harme intended to thee.
Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir.
Cam. Why, be so still: here's no body will steale thatfrom thee: yet for the out-side of thy pouertie, we mustmake an exchange; therefore dis-case thee instantly (thoumust thinke there's a necessitie in't) and change Garmentswith this Gentleman: Though the penny-worth (on hisside) be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot.
Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well enough.)
Cam. Nay prethee dispatch: the Gentleman is halfefled already.
Aut. Are you in earnest, Sir? (I smell the trick on't.)
Flo. Dispatch, I prethee.
Aut. Indeed I haue had Earnest, but I cannot withconscience take it.
Cam. Vnbuckle, vnbuckle.Fortunate Mistresse (let my prophecieCome home to ye:) you must retire your selfeInto some Couert; take your sweet-hearts HatAnd pluck it ore your Browes, muffle your face,Dis-mantle you, and (as you can) dislikenThe truth of your owne seeming, that you may(For I doe feare eyes ouer) to Ship-boordGet vndescry'd.
Perd. I see the Play so lyes,That I must beare a part.
Cam. No remedie:Haue you done there?
Flo. Should I now meet my Father,He would not call me Sonne.
Cam. Nay, you shall haue no Hat:Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)
Aut. Adieu, Sir.
Flo. O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot? 'Pray you a word.
Cam. What I doe next, shall be to tell the KingOf this escape, and whither they are bound;Wherein, my hope is, I shall so preuaile,To force him after: in whose companyI shall re-view Sicilia; for whose sight,I haue a Womans Longing.
Flo. Fortune speed vs:Thus we set on (Camillo) to th' Sea-side.
Cam. Exit.The swifter speed, the better.
Aut. I vnderstand the businesse, I heare it: to haue anopen eare, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary fora Cut-purse; a good Nose is requisite also, to smell outworke for th' other Sences. I see this is the time that thevniust man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been,without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange?Sure the Gods doe this yeere conniue at vs, and we maydoe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is abouta peece of Iniquitie (stealing away from his Father, withhis Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peece of honestie to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: Ihold it the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein amI constant to my Profession.Enter Clowne and Shepheard.Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot braine: EueryLanes end, euery Shop, Church, Session, Hanging, yeeldsa carefull man worke.
Clowne. See, see: what a man you are now? there is noother way, but to tell the King she's a Changeling, andnone of your flesh and blood.
Shep. Nay, but heare me.
Clow. Nay; but heare me.
Shep. Goe too then.
Clow. She being none of your flesh and blood, yourflesh and blood ha's not offended the King, and so yourflesh and blood is not to be punish'd by him. Shew thosethings you found about her (those secret things, all butwhat she ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law goewhistle: I warrant you.
Shep. I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and hisSonnes prancks too; who, I may say, is no honest man,neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make methe Kings Brother in Law.
Clow. Indeed Brother in Law was the farthest off youcould haue beene to him, and then your Blood had beenethe dearer, by I know how much an ounce.
Aut. Very wisely (Puppies.)
Shep. Well: let vs to the King: there is that in thisFarthell, will make him scratch his Beard.
Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaintmay be to the flight of my Master.
Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at' Pallace.
Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance: Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excrement. How now (Rustiques) whither are you bound?
Shep. To th' Pallace (and it like your Worship.)
Aut. Your Affaires there? what? with whom? theCondition of that Farthell? the place of your dwelling?your names? your ages? of what hauing? breeding, andany thing that is fitting to be knowne, discouer?
Clo. We are but plaine fellowes, Sir.
Aut. A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haueno lying; it becomes none but Trades-men, and they often giue vs (Souldiers) the Lye, but wee pay them for itwith stamped Coyne, not stabbing Steele, therefore theydoe not giue vs the Lye.
Clo. Your Worship had like to haue giuen vs one, ifyou had not taken your selfe with the manner.
Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir?
Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seestthou not the ayre of the Court, in these enfoldings? Hathnot my gate in it, the measure of the Court? Receiues notthy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thyBasenesse, Court-Contempt? Think'st thou, for that Iinsinuate, at toaze from thee thy Businesse, I am therefore no Courtier? I am Courtier Cap-a-pe; and one thatwill eyther push-on, or pluck-back, thy Businesse there:whereupon I command thee to open thy Affaire.
Shep. My Businesse, Sir, is to the King.
Aut. What Aduocate ha'st thou to him?
Shep. I know not (and't like you.)
Clo. Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: sayyou haue none.
Shep. None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen.
Aut. How blessed are we, that are not simple men?Yet Nature might haue made me as these are,Therefore I will not disdaine.
Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier.
Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them nothandsomely.
Clo. He seemes to be the more Noble, in being fantasticall: A great man, Ile warrant; I know by the pickingon's Teeth.
Aut. The Farthell there? What's i'th' Farthell?Wherefore that Box?
Shep. Sir, there lyes such Secrets in this Farthell andBox, which none must know but the King, and which heeshall know within this houre, if I may come to th' speechof him.
Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour.
Shep. Why Sir?
Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboorda new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himselfe: forif thou bee'st capable of things serious, thou must knowthe King is full of griefe.
Shep. So 'tis said (Sir:) about his Sonne, that shouldhaue marryed a Shepheards Daughter.
Aut. If that Shepheard be not in hand-fast, let himflye; the Curses he shall haue, the Tortures he shall feele,will breake the back of Man, the heart of Monster.
Clo. Thinke you so, Sir?
Aut. Not hee alone shall suffer what Wit can makeheauie, and Vengeance bitter; but those that are Iermaineto him (though remou'd fiftie times) shall all come vnderthe Hang-man: which, though it be great pitty, yet it isnecessarie. An old Sheepe-whistling Rogue, a Ram-tender,to offer to haue his Daughter come into grace? Somesay hee shall be ston'd: but that death is too soft for him(say I:) Draw our Throne into a Sheep-Coat? all deathsare too few, the sharpest too easie.
Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare)and't like you, Sir?
Aut. Hee ha's a Sonne: who shall be flayd aliue, then'noynted ouer with Honey, set on the head of a WaspesNest, then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead:then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or some other hotInfusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hotest day Prognostication proclaymes) shall he be set against a Brick-wall,(the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye vpon him;where hee is to behold him, with Flyes blown to death.)But what talke we of these Traitorly-Rascals, whose miseries are to be smil'd at, their offences being so capitall? Tell me (for you seeme to be honest plaine men) what youhaue to the King: being something gently consider'd, Ilebring you where he is aboord, tender your persons to hispresence, whisper him in your behalfes; and if it be inman, besides the King, to effect your Suites, here is manshall doe it.
Clow. He seemes to be of great authoritie: close withhim, giue him Gold; and though Authoritie be a stubborne Beare, yet hee is oft led by the Nose with Gold:shew the in-side of your Purse to the out-side of hishand, and no more adoe. Remember ston'd, and flay'daliue.
Shep. And't please you (Sir) to vndertake the Businessefor vs, here is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as muchmore, and leaue this young man in pawne, till I bring ityou.
Aut. After I haue done what I promised?
Shep. I Sir.
Aut. Well, giue me the Moitie: Are you a partie inthis Businesse?
Clow. In some sort, Sir: but though my case be a pittifull one, I hope I shall not be flayd out of it.
Aut. Oh, that's the case of the Shepheards Sonne:hang him, hee'le be made an example.
Clow. Comfort, good comfort: We must to the King,and shew our strange sights: he must know 'tis none ofyour Daughter, nor my Sister: wee are gone else. Sir, Iwill giue you as much as this old man do's, when the Businesse is performed, and remaine (as he sayes) your pawnetill it be brought you.
Aut. I will trust you. Walke before toward the Seaside, goe on the right hand, I will but looke vpon theHedge, and follow you.
Clow. We are bless'd, in this man: as I may say, euen bless'd.
Shep. Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided todoe vs good.
Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune wouldnot suffer mee: shee drops Booties in my mouth. I amcourted now with a double occasion: (Gold, and a meansto doe the Prince my Master good; which, who knoweshow that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I willbring these two Moales, these blind-ones, aboord him: ifhe thinke it fit to shoare them againe, and that the Complaint they haue to the King, concernes him nothing, lethim call me Rogue, for being so farre officious, for I amproofe against that Title, and what shame else belongsto't: To him will I present them, there may be matter inExeunt.it.