The Plays of Shakespeare

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou should'st take no money of me; but being enthrall'd 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 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 whisper off these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispering. Charm 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 ballad in print o'-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 me 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.

Aut. 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 too, think you?

Thou hast sworn my love to be ;
Mop. 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 gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll
not trouble them: come, bring away thy pack after
me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. Pedler, let's
have the first choice.-Follow me, girls.

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

Clo. Lay it by too: another.

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

Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to
the tune of, "Two maids wooing a man." There's
scarce a maid westward but she sings it: 'tis in re-
quest, 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.

[Exeunt Clown, DORCAS, and MOPSA, Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. [Aside.

Will you buy any tape,
Or lace for your cape,
My dainty duck, my dear-a?
Any silk, any thread,
Any toys for your head,

Of the new'st, and fin'st, fin'st wear-a?
Come to the pedler;
Money's a medler,

That doth utter all men's ware-a.

Enter a Servant.

[Exit after them.

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 homely foolery already.-I know, sir, we weary

you.

Pol. You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen.

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.

Shep. Leave your prating. Since these good men are pleased, let them come in: but quickly now. Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit. 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. How now, fair shepherd?
Your heart is full of something, that does take
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young,
And handled 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,

Aut. I can bear my part; you must know, 'tis my And nothing marted with him. If your lass
occupation: have at it with you.

SONG.

Aut. Get you hence, for I must go,

Whither fits not you to know.

Dor. Whither?

Mop. O! whither?

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.

Up in my heart, which I have given already,
But not deliver'd.-O! hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
Hath sometimes 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
The hand, was fair before!-I have put you out.-
But, to your protestation: let me hear

What you profess.

Flo. Do, and be witness to't. Pol. And this my neighbour too? Flo. And he, and more Than he, and men; the earth, the heavens, and all; That were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve; had sense, and knowledge, More than was ever man's, I would not prize them, Without her love: for her employ them all, Commend them, and condemn them, to her service, Or to their own perdition. Pol.

Fairly offer'd.

Cam. This shows a sound affection.
Shep.

Say you the like to him?

Per.

But, my daughter,

I cannot speak

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Pol. Knows he of this? Flo.

He neither does, nor shall.

Pol. Methinks, a father
Is at the nuptial of his son a guest
That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more:
Is not your father grown incapable
Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid

With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak? hear?
Know man from man? dispose his own estate?
Lies he not bed-rid? and again, does nothing,
But what he did being childish?
Flo.
He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed,
Than most have of his age.

No, good sir:

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,
The father, (all whose joy is nothing else
But fair posterity) should hold some counsel
In such a business.

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-

Per.

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

That thou no more shalt never see this knack, (as never
I mean thou shalt) we'll bar thee from succession;
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our kin,
Far than Deucalion off:-mark thou my words.
Follow us to the court.-Thou, churl, for this time,
Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it.-And you, enchantment,——
Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too,
That makes himself, but for our honour therein,
Unworthy thee,-if ever henceforth thou
These rural latches to his entrance open,
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to't.

Per.

Even here undone !

[Exit.

I was not much afeard; for once, or twice,
I was about to speak, and tell him plainly,
The self-same sun that shines upon his court,
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike.-Will't please you, sir, be gone?
[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 farther,
But milk my ewes, and weep.
Cam.

Why, how now, father?

Speak, ere thou diest.
Shep.
I cannot speak, nor think,
Nor dare to know that which I know.-O, sir!
[TO FLORIZEL.

You have undone a man of fourscore three,
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 would'st adventure

To mingle faith with him.-Undone! undone!
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire.

Flo.

[Exit.

Why look you so upon me?

I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd,

But nothing alter'd. What I was, I am :

More straining on, for plucking back; not following

My leash unwillingly.

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 honour'd friend, When he shall miss me, (as, in faith, I mean not To see him any more) cast your good counsels Upon his passion: let 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 opportune to our need, I have A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd For this design. What course I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting. O, my lord!

Cam.

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

Flo.

Hark, Perdita.

Cam.

A place whereto you'll go?

Flo.

Have you thought on

Not any yet;

But as th' 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.

[Going.

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
His welcomes forth; asks thee, the son, forgiveness,
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: th' one
He chides to hell, and bids the other grow
Faster than thought, or time.

Well, my lord,

If you may please to think I love the king,
And, through him, what's nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self, embrace but my direction,

Flo. Worthy Camillo, What colour for my visitation shall I Hold up before him?

Cam.

Sent by the king, your father, To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you, as from your father, shall deliver, Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down: The which shall point you forth at every sitting What you must say, that he shall not perceive, But that you have your father's bosom there, And speak his very heart.

Flo.

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 certain,
To miseries enough: no hope to help you,
But, as you shake off one, to take another:
Nothing so certain as your anchors, who

Do their best office, if they can but stay you
Where you'll be loth to be. Besides, you know,
Prosperity's the very bond of love,

Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together,
Affliction alters.

Flo. Dispatch, I pr'ythee.

My lord,

Fear none of this. I think, you know, my fortunes
Do all lie there: it shall be so my care
To have you royally appointed, as if
The scene you play were true. For instance, sir,
That you may know you shall not want,-one word.
[They talk apart.

Enter AUTOLYCUS. Aut. Ha, ha! what a fool honesty is! and trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my trumpery: not a counterfeit stone, not a riband, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack from fasting: they thronged who should buy first; as if my trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer: by which means, I saw whose purse was best in picture, and what I saw, to my good use I remembered. My clown (who wants but something to be a reasonable man) grew so in love with the wenches' song, that he would not stir his pettitoes, till he had both tune and words; which so drew the rest of the herd to me, that all their other senses stuck in ears you might have pinched a placket, it was senseless; 'twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse; I would have filed keys off, that hung in chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, and admiring the nothing of it; so that, in this time of lethargy, I picked and cut most of their festival purses, and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king's son, and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole

army.

[CAMILLO, FLORIZEL, and PERDITA, come forward. Cam. Nay, but my letters, by this means being there So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. Flo. And those that you'll procure from king Leon

tes?

Cam. Shall satisfy your father.
Per.

All that you speak shows fair.

Happy be you!

Cam. Whom have we here? [Seeing AUTOLYCUS. We'll make an instrument of this: omit Nothing may give us aid.

Aut. If they have overheard me now,-why hanging. Cam. How now, good fellow! Why shakest thou so? Fear not, man; here's no harm intended to thee. Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir.

Cam. Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from thee: yet, for the outside of thy poverty, we must make an exchange: therefore, discase thee instantly, (thou must think, there's a necessity in't) and change garments with this gentleman. Though the pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot. [Giving money. Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir.-[Aside.] I know ye well enough.

Cam. Nay, pr'ythee, dispatch: the gentleman is half flayed already.

Aut. Are you in earnest, sir?—[Aside.] I smell the trick of it.

Aut. Indeed, I have had earnest; but I cannot with conscience take it.

Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle.

[FLO. and AUTOL. exchange garments. Fortunate mistress, (let my prophecy Come home to you!) you must retire yourself Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat, And pluck it o'er your brows; muffle your face; Dismantle you, and as you can, disliken The truth of your own seeming, that you may, (For I do fear eyes ever) to ship-board Get undescried.

Per.

I see, the play so lies,

That I must bear a part. Cam.

Have you done there?

Flo.

No remedy.

Should I now meet my father,

He would not call me son. Cam.

Nay, you shall have no hat.— [Gives it to PERDITA.

Come, lady, come.-Farewell, my friend.

Aut.

Adieu, sir.

Flo. O Perdita! what have we twain forgot?
Pray you, a word.
[They talk apart.
Cam. What I do next shall be to tell the king
Of this escape, and whither they are bound;
Wherein, my hope is, I shall so prevail,
To force him after: in whose company
I shall review Sicilia, for whose sight
I have a woman's longing.
Flo.

Fortune speed us !-
Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.
Cam. The swifter speed, the better.

[Exeunt FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and CAMILLO. Aut. I understand the business; I hear it. To have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cut-purse: a good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see, this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been without boot! what a boot is here with this exchange! Sure, the gods do this year connive at us, and we may do any thing extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity; stealing away from his father, with his clog at his heels. If I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it, and therein am I constant to my profession.

Enter Clown and Shepherd. Aside, aside :-here is more matter for a hot brain. Every lane's end, every shop, church, session, hanging, yields a careful man work.

Clo. See, see, what a man you are now! There is no other way, but to tell the king she's a changeling, and none of your flesh and blood.

Shep. Nay, but hear me. Clo. Nay, but hear me. Shep. Go to, then.

Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the king; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show those things you found about her; those secret things, all but what she has with her. This being done, let the law go whistle; I warrant you.

Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his son's pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his father, nor to me, to go about to make me the king's brother-in-law.

Clo. Indeed, brother-in-law was the furthest off you

could have been to him; and then your blood had been mane to him, though removed fifty times, shall all come
the dearer, by I know how much an ounce.
Aut. [Aside.] Very wisely, puppies!
Shep. Well, let us to the king: there is that in this
fardel will make him scratch his beard.

Aut. [Aside.] I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master.

Clo. Pray heartily he be at palace.

Aut. [Aside.] Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance :-let me pocket up my pedler's excrement.-[Takes off his false beard.] How now, rustics! whither are you bound?

Shep. To the palace, an it like your worship. Aut. Your affairs there? what? with whom? the condition of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your names, your ages, of what having, breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be known discover.

Clo. We are but plain fellows, sir.

Aut. A lie: you are rough and hairy. Let me have no lying it becomes none but tradesmen, and they often give us soldiers the lie; but we pay them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel: therefore, they do not give us the lie.

Clo. Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner.

Shep. Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir? Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a courtier. Seest thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? receives not thy nose court-odour from me? reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, or touze from thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier, cap-a-pie; and one that will either push on, or pluck back thy business there: whereupon, I command thee to open thy affair. Shep. My business, sir, is to the king. Aut. What advocate hast thou to him? Shep. I know not, an't like you.

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 I. Draw our throne into a sheep-cote? all deaths are too few, the sharpest too

Clo. Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant: say, you have none.

Shep. None, sir: I have no pheasant, cock, nor hen. 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.

easy.

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

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

Aut. He has a son, who shall be flayed alive, then, 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest; there stand, till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recovered again with aqua-vitæ, or some other hot-infusion; then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall he be set against a brick-wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death. But what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be 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 behalfs; and, if it be in man, besides the king, to effect your suits, here is man shall do it.

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 lie 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 labour.
Shep. Why, sir?

Aut. The king is not at the palace: he is gone aboard
a new ship to purge melancholy, and air himself: for,
if thou best capable of things serious, thou must know,
the king is full of grief.

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

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 you.

Aut. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him
fly: the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel,
will break the back of man, the heart of monster.
Clo. Think you so, sir?

Aut. Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make
heavy, and vengeance bitter, but those that are ger-

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

Aut. 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 flayed 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 man does, when the business is performed; and remain, as he says, your pawn, till it be brought you.

Aut. I will trust you. Walk before toward the seaside: 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 luck 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 I will present them: there may be matter in it.

[Exit.

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The Plays of Shakespeare: The Text Regulated by the Old Copies, and by the ...