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And you the queen on't.

Per.

Sir, my gracious lord,
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 obscur'd
With a swain's wearing; and ine, poor lowly maid,
Most goddess-like prank'd up: But that our feasts
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 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 wou.d he say? Or how
Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
The sternaess of his presence?

Flo.

Apprehend
Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
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-rob'd god,
Golden Apollo, a poor bumble swain,
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, 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
Or I my life.
[purpose,
Flo.

Thou dearest Perdita,

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.

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Enter Shepherd, with Polixenes 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.

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Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers,
And do not call them bastards.
Per.
I'll not put

[fore

The dibble in earth to set one slip of them:
No more than, were I painted, I would wish
This youth should say, 'twere well; and only there-
Desire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you!
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ;
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.

Out, alas!

Per.
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 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,
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 flow-
Methinks, I play as I have seen them do
[ers:
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,
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.
Per.
O Doricles,
Your praises are too large but that your youth,
Welcome, sir! [To Pol. And the true blood, which fairly peeps through it,
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd;

Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv'd, upon
This day, she was both pantier, 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'fire
With labour; and the thing she took to quench it,
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 as welcome to your sheep-shearing,
As your good flock shall prosper.
Per.

It is my father's will, I should take on me

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Here a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what

Fair swain is this, which dances with your daughter?
Shep. They call him Doricles, and he boasts himself
To have a worthy feeding: but I have it
Upon his own report, and I believe it;

He looks like sooth: He says he loves my daughter;
I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon
Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read,
As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
I think there is not half a kiss to choose,
Who loves another best.

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.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. O master, if you did but hear the pedler at the door, you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings several tunes, faster than you'll tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grew to his tunes.

Clo. He could never come better: he shall come. in: I love a ballad but even too well; if it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably.

Serv. He hath songs, for man or woman, of all sizes. no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves he has the prettiest love-songs for maids: so without bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burdens of dildos and fadings; jump her and thump her; and where some stretch-mouth'd rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer. Whoop, do me no harm, good man; puts him off, slights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, good man. Pol. This is brave fellow.

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

Serv. He hath ribands 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 them over, 'as they were gods or goddesses; you would think a smock were a she-angel; he so chants to the sleeve-hand, and the work about the square on't.

Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in; and let him approach singing

Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous words in his tunes.

Clo. You have of these pedlers, that have more in 'em than you'd think, sister.

Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
Enter Autolycus, singing.
Lawn, as white as driven snow;
Cyprus, black as e'er was crow;
Gloves, as sweet as damask roses;
Masks for faces, and for noses;
Bugle bracelet, necklace-amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber:
Golden quoifs, and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears;
Pins and poking-sticks of steel,
What maids lack from head to heel.

Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry;
Come, buy, &c.

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 promis'd 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 whistle off these secrets; but you must be tittle-tattling 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 way, and lost all my money?

Aut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad;

therefore it hehoves 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 change.

Clo. What hast here? ballads?

Mop. Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print, a'-life; for then we are sure they are true.

Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a asurer'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.

ballads; we'll buy the other things anon. Clo. Come on, lay it by; And let's first see more

Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish, that appeared apon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore of April, lad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this balshe was a woman, and was turned into a cold fish, for The ballad is very pitiful, and as true. she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her:

Dor. Is it true too, think you?

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 request, 1 can tell you.

Mop. We can both sing it; if thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts.

Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago.
Aut. I can bear my part; you must know, 'tis my
occupation: have at it with you.
SONG.

Aut. Get you hence, for I must go;
Where, it fits not you to know.

Dor. Whither? Mop. O, whither? Dor. Whither? Mop. It becomes thy oath full well,

Thou to me thy secrets tell:

Dor. Me too, let me go thither.

Mop. Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill:

Dor. If to either, thou dost ill.

Aut. Neither. Dor. What, neither? Aut. Neither. Dor. 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'l 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. And you shall pay well for 'em. Will you buy any tape,

Or lace for your cape,

[Aside.

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Enter a Servant.

Serv. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair; they call themselves saltiers and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not in't; but they themselves are o'the mind, (if it be not too rough for some, that know little but bowling,) it will please plentifully.

Shep. Away! we'll none on't; here has been too much humble foolery already :-I know, sir, we weary you.

Pol. You weary those that refresh us: Pray let's

see these four threes of herdsmen.

Serv. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squire.

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 hereafter.-
Is it not too far gone?-"Tis time to part them.-
He's simple, and tells much. [Aside.]-How now,
fair shepherd!

Your heart is full of something, that does take
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young,
And handed love, as you do, I was wont
To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd
The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance; you have let him go,
And nothing marted with him: if your lass
Interpretation should abuse; and call this
Your lack of love, or bounty: you were straited
For a reply, at least, if you make a care
Of happy holding her.

Flo.

Old sir, I know

She prizes not such trifles as these are:

The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd
Up in my heart; which I have given already,
But not deliver'd.-O, hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand; this hand,
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it;

Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow,"
That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er.
Pol. What follows this?-

How prettily the young swain seems to wash

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

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Shep. Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy

Flo.

Mark our contract. Pol.

choice.

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 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 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!

I was not much afeard: for once, or twice,

That ever made eyes swerve; bad force, and know-I was about to speak; and tell him plainly,

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[Exit.

The selfsame 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 thon 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 wouldst ad-

venture

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.

Flo.

I think, Camillo.

Cam.

I not purpose it.

Even he, my lord.

And, after that, trust to thee.
Cam.

A place whereto you'll go ?
Flo.

Have you thought on

Not any yet:
But as the unthought-on accident is guilty
To what we wildly do; so we profess
Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies
Of every wind that blows.
Cam.
Then list to me:
This follows,-if you will not change your purpose,
But undergo this flight ;-Make for Sicilia;

And there present yourself, and your fair princess,
(For so, I see, she must be,) 'fore Leontes;

She shall be habited, as it becomes

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

His welcomes forth: asks thee, the son, forgiveness,
As 'twere i'the father's person kisses the hands

Per. How often have I told you, 'twould be thus? Of your fresh princess: o'er and o'er divides him How often said, my dignity would last

But till 'twere known f

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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 sces, 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 e'er 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.
Cam.

O, my lord,

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

Flo.

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

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I am so fraught with curious business, that
I leave out ceremony.
Cam.

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

Flo.
Very nobly
Have you deserv'd it is my father's music,
To speak your deeds; not little of his care
To have them recompens'd as thought on.

Cam.

Well, my lord,
If you may please to think I love the king;
And, through him, what is nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self; embrace but my direction,
(If your more ponderous and settled project
May suffer alteration,) on mine honour

I'll point you where you shall have such receiving
As shall become your highness; where you may
Enjoy your mistress; (for the whom, I see,
There's no disjunction to be made, but by,
As heavens forefend your ruin :) marry her;
And (with my best endeavours, in your absence,)
Your discontenting father strive to qualify,
And bring him up to liking.

Flo.

How, Camillo,

May this, almost a miracle, be done?
That I may call thee something more than man,

"Twixt his unkindness and his kindness: the one
He chides to hell, and bids the other grow,
Faster than thought, or time.
Flo.

Worthy Camillo,
What 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.
I am bound to you:

Flo.
There is some sap in this.

Cam.

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 loath to be: Besides, you know,
Prosperity's the very bond of love;

Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
Affliction alters.
One of these is true:

Per.

I think, affliction may subdue the cheek,
But not take in the mind.

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But, O, the thorns we stand upon !-Camillo,-
Preserver of my father, now of me;

The medicine of our house!-how shall we do?
We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son;
Nor shall appear in Sicily-

Cam.

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 mine. For instance, sir, That you may know you shall not want,-one word. [They tak aside.

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 throng who should bay 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 cod-piece 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 whoobub 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 LeonCam. Shall satisfy your father. [tes,Per.

All, that you speak, shows fair.
Cam.

Happy be you!

Who 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. Aside. 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 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.

Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir:-I know ye well enough. [Aside. Cam. Nay, pr'ythee, despatch: the gentleman is half flayed already.

Aut. Are you in earnest, sir?—I smell the trick of it.[Aside. Flo. Despatch, I pr'ythee. Aut. Indeed, I have had earnest; but I cannot with

conscience take it.

Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle.

[Flo. and Aut. 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 over you,) to shipboard Get undescried.

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Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot?

Pray you, a word.

[They converse apart. Cam. What I do next, shall be, to tell the king. [Aside.

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 himselfis about a piece of iniquity; stealing away from his father, with his clog at his heels: If I thought it were not a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it: and therein am I constant to my profession.

Enter Clason 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 the dearer, by I know how much an ounce. Aut. Very wisely; puppies! [Aside. Shep. Well; let us to the king; there is that in this fardel, will make him scratch his beard. Aut. I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master.

Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at palace.

Aut. 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 toze from thee thy bu siness, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier cap-a-pee; 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.

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

Shep. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cook 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.

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

Clo. He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical; a great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking on's teeth.

Aut. The fardel there? what's i'the fardel? Wherefore that box?

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

Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy 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 be'st capable of things serious, thou must know, the king is full of grief.

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

Aut. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him 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 germane to him, though removed fifty times, shall all come under the hangman: which though it be great

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