Bee; what I am to buy for our sheep-shearing feast?

Aut. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue, Three pound of sugar; five pound of currants; that put me into this apparel.

Aut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him.

rice What will this sister of mine do with rice ?| Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, if you had but looked big, and spit at him, he'd and she lays it on. She hath made me four-and- have run. twenty nosegays for the shearers: three man songmen' all, and very good ones; but they are most I of them means and bases: but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have saffron, to colour the warden3 pies; mace,dates,-none; that's out of my note: nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger; but that I may beg-four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' the sun.

Aut. O, that ever I was born!

Clo. How do you now?

Aut. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand, and walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's.

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?
Aut. No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.
Clo. Then fare thee well; I'must go buy spices

[Grovelling on the ground. for our sheep-shearing.

Clo. I' the name of me,Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir!-[Exit Clown.! Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but off these Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your rags; and then, death, death! spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my name put in the book of virtue!

Clo. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.

Aut. O, sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received; which are mighty ones and millions.

Cio. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter.

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit.

Aut. I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable SCENE III.-The same. A shepherd's cottage.

things put upon me.

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?
Aut. A foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man.

Enter Florizel and Perdita.

Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you

Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the Do give a life: no shepherdess; but Flora, garments he has left with thee; if this be a horse-Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing man's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me Is as a meeting of the petty gods, thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand. And you the queen on't. [Helping him up. Sir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extremes, it not becomes me; O, pardon, that I name them: your high self,

Aut. O! good sir, tenderly, oh!
Clo. Alas, poor soul.

Per.

Aut. O, good sir, softly, good sir: I fear, sir, The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscur'd my shoulder-blade is out."

Clo. How now! canst stand?

Aut. Softly, dear sir: [Picks his pocket.] good sir, softly: you ha' done me a charitable oilice. Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

Aut. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have a kinsman not past three-quarters of a mile henee, 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?

Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames: I knew him once a servant of the prince; I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.

With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,
Most goddess-like prank'd up: But that our feast
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
Thy father's ground.
Per.
Now Jove afford you cause!
To me, the difference'2 forges dread; your greatness
Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I tremble
To think, your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did: O, the fates!
How would he look, to see his work, so noble,
Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how
Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
The sternness of his presence?
Flo.
Apprehend

Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish it, to make Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide. Humbling their deities to love, have taken Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a mo- A ram, and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god, tions of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, wife within a mile where my land and living lies; As I seem now: Their transformations and, having flown over many knavish professions, Were never for a piece of beauty rarer; he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus. Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires Clo. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he Run not before mine honour; nor my lusts haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.

(1) Singers of catches in three parts. (2) Tenors. (3) A species of pears. (4) The machine used in the game of holes,

Burn hotter than my faith.

(5) Sojourn. (6) Puppet-show.
(8) Take hold of. (9) Excesses,
pigeon-(10) Objeet of all men's notice,

(7) Thief.

(11) Dressed with ostentation, (12) i. e, of station.

Per.
O but, dear sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'the king:
One of these two must be necessities,
Which then will speak; that you must change this

purpose,

Thou dearest Perdita,

Or I my life.
Flo.
With these forc'd' thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not
The mirth o' the feast: Or I'll be thine, my fair,
Or not my father's: for I cannot be
Mine own, nor any thing to any, if

I be not thine: to this I am most constant,
Though destiny say, No. Be merry, gentle;
Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing
That you behold the while. Your guests are
coming:

Lift up your countenance; as it were the day
Of celebration of that nuptial, which
We two have sworn shall come.

Per.

Stand you auspicious!

Pol.

Say, there be;

Yet nature is made better by no mean,
But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art,
Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry
A gentler scion to the wildest stock;
And make conceive a bark of baser kind
By bud of nobler race; This is an art
Which does mend nature,—change it rather: but
The art itself is nature.
So it is.
Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers,
And do not call them bastards.

Per.

Desire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you!
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ;

O lady fortune, The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun,
And with him rises weeping; these are flowers
Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given
To men of middle age: You are very welcome.
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
And only live by gazing.

Enter Shepherd, with Polisenes, and Camillo, dis-
guised; Clown, Mopsa, Dorcas, and others.
Flo.
See, your guests approach:
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv'd,

upon

This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook;
Both dame and servant: welcom'd all; serv'd all:
Would sing her song, and dance her turn: now here,
At upper end o'the table, now, i'the middle;
On his shoulder, and his: her face o'tire

Per.

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

I

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

With labour; and the thing she took to quench it, From Dis's wagon! daffodils,
She would to each one sip: You are retir'd,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting: Pray you, bid
These unknown friends to us welcome: for it is
A way to make us better friends, more known.
Come, quench your blushes: and present yourself
That which you are, mistress o' the feast: Come on,
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
As your good flock shall prosper.

Per.
Welcome, sir! [To Pol.
It is my father's will, I should take on me
The hostess-ship o'the day :-You're welcome, sir!
[To Camillo.
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend
sirs,

For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep
Seeming, and savour,2 all the winter long:
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.

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

season

Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers,
Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind
Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not
To get slips of them.
Pol.

That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack,
To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend,
To strew him o'er and o'er.
Flo.
What? like a corse?
Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on;
Not like a corse: or if,-not to be buried,"
But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your
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,
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
I'd have you do it ever : when you sing,

Sir, the year growing ancient,-I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing them too: When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o'the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own
No other function: Each your doing,
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.
O Doricles,
Your praises are too large: but that your youth,
And the true blood, which fairly peeps through it
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd;
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,

Do you neglect them?
Per.

Wherefore, gentle maiden,

For I have heard it said, There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares With great creating nature.

Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? will they wear their plackets, where they should bear Serv. O master, if you did but hear the pedler their faces? Is there not milking-time, when you 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.

themselves saltiers: and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, be cause they are not in't; but they themselves are mis-o'the mind (if it be not too rough for some, that know little but bowling,) it will please plentifully.

Pol. You weary those that refresh us: Pray let's Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish, that ap- see these four threes of herdsinen. peared upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore] Serv. One three of them, by their own report, of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by it was thought she was a woman, and was turned the squire.

into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh Shep. Leave your prating; since these good men with one that loved her: The ballad is very pitiful, are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now. [Erit. Re-enter Servant, with twelve rustics, habited like Satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt.

Mop. Let's have some merry ones. Aut. Why this is a passing merry one; and goes the tune of Two maids wooing a man: there's Your heart is full of something, that does take scarce a maid westward, but she sings it; 'tis in Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young, request, I can tell you. And handed love, as you do, I was wont To load my she with knacks: I would have ran

The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it Aut. I can bear my part; you must know, 'tis To her acceptance; you have let him go, my occupation: have at it with you.

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,

[Exeunt Clown, Autolycus, Dorcas, and Or to their own perdition.

(1) Serious. (7) Bought, trafficked. (8) Put to difficulties. 3 Dressed themselves in habits imitating hair. (9) The sieve used to separate flour from bran is (4) Satyrs, (5) Medley. (6) Foot-rule. Icalled a bolting-cloth,

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? dispute his own estate?'
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing,
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,
The father (all whose joy is nothing else
But fair posterity,) should hold some counsel
In such a business.

Flo.

I yield all this;

But, for some other reasons, my grave sir,
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My father of this business.

Pol.

Let him know't.

No, he must not.

Flo.

Shep. Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve
At knowing of thy choice.
Flo.
Mark our contract.
Pol.

Come, come, he must not :

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 briers, and made

Even here undone !

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 further,
But milk my ewes, and weep.
Why, how now, father?

Cam.
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,

Cam.

Gracious my lord,

You know your father's temper: at this time
He will allow no speech,-which, I do guess,
You do not purpose to him ;-and as hardly
Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear:
Then, till the fury of his highness settle,
Come not before him.

I not purpose it.

Even he, my lord.

Per. How often have I told you, 'twould be thus?
How often said, my dignity would last
But till 'twere known?
Flo.

It cannot fail, but by
The violation of my faith; And then
Let Nature crush the sides o'the earth together,
And mar the seeds within!-Lift up thy looks :—
From my succession wipe me, father! I
Am heir to my affection.

Cam.

Be advis'd.

Flo. I am; and by my fancy: if my reason
Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;
If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness,
Do bid it welcome.

I

More homely than thy state.-For thee, fond boy,
If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh,
That thou no more shalt 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,
Far2 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 dread blow of it.-And you, enchant-In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath

ment

(1) Talk over his affairs. (2) Further.

Cam.
This is desperate, sir.
Flo. So call it: but it does fulfil my vow;
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 carth wombs, or the profound seas hide

To this my fair belov'd: Therefore, I pray you,

(3) Doors. (4) A leading string. (5) Love?