Part 31
_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 35 the imagination of his neighbours, 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 extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage. 40
_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 45 my son's resort thither. Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.
_Cam._ I willingly obey your command.
_Pol._ My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves. [_Exeunt._
LINENOTES:
## SCENE II.] Scena Secunda. Ff.
The palace of Polixenes.]? Court of Bohemia. Pope. A room in Polixenes' Palace. Capell.
[3] _fifteen_] _sixteen_ Hanmer.
[12] _businesses_] _business_ Rowe (ed. 2).
[17] _my_] _thy_ Long MS.
[17, 18] _heaping friendships_] _heaping friendship_ Hanmer. _reaping friendships_ Warburton.
[28] _missingly_] (_missingly_) Ff. _musingly_ Hanmer. _missing him_ Warburton.
[32] _care; so far,_] Capell. _care, so farre,_ F1 F2 F3. _care so far,_ F4.
[41] _part_] _a part_ Theobald.
[41, 42] _but, I fear, the angle_] _but (I fear) the Angle_ Ff. _and, I fear, the Engle_ Theobald, _and, I fear, the angle_ Hanmer. _but, I fear the angle_ Steevens.
[46] _thither_] _thether_ F1.
[49] Exeunt.] Rowe. Exit. Ff.
## SCENE III. _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, 5 With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
The lark, that tirra-lyra chants, With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, 10 Are summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lie 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? 15 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, 20 Then my account I well may give, And in the stocks avouch it.
My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of 25 unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I 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! a prize! 30
_Enter_ Clown.
_Clo._ Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wool to?
_Ant._ [_Aside_] If the springe hold, the cock's mine.
_Clo._ I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what 35 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-men 40 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 colour the warden pies; mace; dates, none, that's out of my note; nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I may 45 beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' the sun.
_Ant._ O that ever I was born! [_Grovelling on the ground._
_Clo._ I' the name of me--
_Ant._ O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death! 50
_Clo._ Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.
_Ant._ O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions. 55
_Clo._ Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter.
_Ant._ I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.
_Clo._ What, by a horseman, or a footman? 60
_Ant._ A footman, sweet sir, a footman.
_Clo._ Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he has 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. 65
_Ant._ O, good sir, tenderly, O!
_Clo._ Alas, poor soul!
_Ant._ O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out.
_Clo._ How now! canst stand? 70
_Ant._ 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.
_Ant._ No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have 75 a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart.
_Clo._ What manner of fellow was he that robbed you?
_Ant._ A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with 80 troll-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 it stay there; 85 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 compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land 90 and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.
_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 95 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'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. 100
_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? 105
_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 110 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!
_Song._ Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a: 115 A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a. [_Exit._
LINENOTES:
## SCENE III.] Scena Tertia. Ff. SCENE II. Warburton.
A road....] Malone. om. Ff. The country. Pope. Fields near the Shepherd's. Capell.
[1] _daffodils_] Johnson. _daffadils_ Ff.
[3, 4] _comes ... For ... reigns in the winter's_] _comes ... For ... reigns o'er the winter's_ Hanmer. _come ... 'Fore ... reins in the winter_ Warburton. _comes ... For ... runs in the winter_ Thirlby conj. _comes ... For ... runs in the winters_ Mason conj.
[6] _heigh_] _Hey_ Ff.
[7] _pugging_] _progging_ Hanmer. _prigging_ Collier MS.
_on_] Theobald. _an_ Ff.
[9] _that_] _with_ Rowe (ed. 2).
_tirra-lyra_] _tirra-Lyra_ F1 F2. _tirra Lyra_ F3. _tirra Lycra_ F4.
[10] _With heigh! with heigh!_] _With heigh, with heigh_ F2 F3 F4. _With heigh_, F1. _With heigh ho!_ S. Walker conj.
[18] _most go_] _go most_ Pope.
[20] _sow-skin_] _show-skin?_ F4.
_budget_] Rowe. _bowget_ Ff.
[24, 25] _Autolycus; who ... was likewise_] _Autolicus, being littered under Mercury, who, as I am, was likewise_ Theobald.]
[26] _this_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
[27] _silly_] _sly_ Hanmer.
[28] _knock_] _knocks_ Hanmer.
[28, 29] _beating and hanging_] _hanging and beating_ Collier conj.
[31] SCENE III. Warburton.
_'leven wether_] _'leven weather_ Capell. _Leaven-weather_ Ff. _eleven weather_ Rowe. _eleventh-weather_ Hanmer. _living wether_ Malone conj.
_tod_] F1. _told_ F2 F3 F4.
[32] _pound and odd_] _a pound and one odd_ Hanmer.
[34] [Aside] Rowe.
[35] _counters_] Capell. _compters_ Ff.
[37] _sugar_] _sugar_ [reading out of a Note. Capell.
_currants_] Rowe. _currence_ Ff.
[40] _three-man_] _they're men_ or _they're main_ or _thrum-men_ Theobald conj.
[42] _amongst_] _among_ F4.
[46] _prunes_] Pope. _Prewyns_ Ff. _pruns_ Rowe (ed. 1). _pruins_ Id. (ed. 2).
_raisins_] Pope. _reysons_ F1 F2. _reasons_ F3 F4. _rasins_ Rowe.
[47] [Grovelling....] Rowe.
[48] _me--_] Rowe. _me_. Ff. _the--_ Theobald conj. om. Johnson conj. See note (XIII).
[53] _offends_] F2 F3 F4. _offend_ F1.
[59] _detestable_] _derestable_ F1.
[65] [Helping.... Rowe. om. Ff.
[71] [picks....] Capell. om. Ff.
Cuts his purse. Collier (Collier MS.).
[72] _ha'_] _ha_ Ff.
[81] _troll-my-dames_] _troll-madams_ Hanmer.
_him_] _him him_ F2.
[89] _a bailiff_] _to a bailiff_ Edd. conj.
_compassed_] _compos'd_ Long MS.
[90] _where_] _of where_ Keightley conj.
[92] _rogue_] _a rogue_ Warburton.
[101] _do you_] _do you do_ F4.
[105] _the way_] _thy way_ F4.
[107] _fare thee well_] _fartheewell_ F1. _farewell_ F2. _farewel_ F3 F4.
_buy_] F1. _to buy_ F2 F3 F4.
[109] [Exit Clown.] Capell. Exit. Ff (after line 108).
[112, 113] _unrolled_] _unrold_ Ff. _enrolled_ Collier (Collier MS.). _unrogued_ W. N. L. (N. and Q.). conj.
[115] _hent_] _hend_ Hanmer.
[115-117] _stile-a ... mile-a_] _stile, o ... mile, o_ The Dancing Master (1650). _stil-e ... mil-e_ Lewis conj.
## SCENE IV. _The_ Shepherd's _cottage_.
_Enter_ FLORIZEL _and_ PERDITA.
_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.
_Per._ Sir, my gracious lord, 5 To chide at your extremes it not becomes me: O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self, The gracious mark 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 10 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.
_Flo._ I bless the time When my good falcon made her flight across 15 Thy father's ground.
_Per._ Now Jove afford you cause! To me the difference 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: O, the Fates! 20 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?
_Flo._ Apprehend Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, 25 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-robed god, Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, 30 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 honour, nor my lusts Burn hotter than my faith.
_Per._ O, but, sir, 35 Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Opposed, as it must be, by the 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, 40 With these forced thoughts, I prithee, 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, 45 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 50 We two have sworn shall come.
_Per._ O lady Fortune, Stand you auspicious!
_Flo._ See, your guests approach: Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth.
_Enter_ Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, _and others_, _with_ POLIXENES _and_ CAMILLO _disguised_.
_Shep._ Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon 55 This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served 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 60 With labour 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's welcome; for it is 65 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.
_Per._ [_To Pol._] Sir, welcome: 70 It is my father's will I should take on me The hostess-ship o' the day. [_To Cam._] You're welcome, sir. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long: 75 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, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 80 Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them.
_Pol._ Wherefore, gentle maiden, 85 Do you neglect them?
_Per._ For I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature.
_Pol._ Say there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: so, over that art 90 Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art 95 Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.
_Per._ So it is.
_Pol._ Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, And do not call them bastards.
_Per._ I'll not put The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; 100 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 marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun 105 And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age. You're very welcome.
_Cam._ I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing.
_Per._ Out, alas! 110 You'ld be so lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st 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 115 Your maidenheads growing: O 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 120 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 125 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!
_Flo._ What, like a corse?
_Per._ No, like a bank for love to lie and play on; 130 Not like a corse; 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 Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine Does change my disposition.
_Flo._ What you do 135 Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing, I'ld 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 140 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, 145 That all your acts are queens.
_Per._ O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth, And the true blood which peeps fairly through 't, Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd, With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, 150 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. 155
_Pol._ This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place.
_Cam._ He tells her something That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is 160 The queen of curds and cream.
_Clo._ Come on, strike up!
_Dor._ Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, To mend her kissing with!
_Mop._ Now, in good time!
_Clo._ Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. Come, strike up! 165 [_Music. 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 boasts himself To have a worthy feeding: but I have it Upon his own report and I believe it; 170 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 175 Who loves another best.
_Pol._ She dances featly.
_Shep._ So she does any thing; though I report it, That should be silent: if young Doricles Do light upon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreams of. 180
_Enter_ Servant.
_Serv._ O master, if you did but hear the pedlar 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. 185
_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; 190 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 and fadings, 'jump her and thump her;' and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would, as it were, mean mischief and break a foul 195 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 200 fellow. Has he any unbraided wares?
_Serv._ He hath ribbons of all the colours 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 'em over as they 205 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._ Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing.
_Per._ Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in's 210 tunes. [_Exit Servant._
_Clo._ You have of these pedlars, that have more in them than you'ld think, sister.
_Per._ Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
_Enter_ AUTOLYCUS, _singing._
Lawn as white as driven snow; 215 Cypress 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; 220 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; 225 Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy.
_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 ribbons and gloves. 230
_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 235 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 kiln-hole, to whistle off these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling 240 before all our guests? 'tis well they are whispering: clamour 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 245 way and lost all my money?
_Ant._ And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary.