Chapter 65

Aut. Prosper you sweet sir. Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your Spice: Ile be with you at your sheepe-shearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out another, and the sheerers proue sheepe, let me be vnrold, and my name put in the booke of Vertue. Song. Iog-on, Iog-on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the Stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tyres in a Mile-a. Enter.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo, Mopsa, Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.

Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you Do's giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but Flora Peering in Aprils front. This your sheepe-shearing, Is as a meeting of the petty Gods, And you the Queene on't

Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord, To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me: (Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfe The gracious marke o'th' Land, you haue obscur'd With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide) Most Goddesse-like prank'd vp: But that our Feasts In euery Messe, haue folly; and the Feeders Digest with a Custome, I should blush To see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke, To shew my selfe a glasse

Flo. I blesse the time When my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosse Thy Fathers ground

Perd. Now Ioue affoord you cause: To me the difference forges dread (your Greatnesse Hath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I tremble To thinke your Father, by some accident Should passe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates, How would he looke, to see his worke, so noble, Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold The sternnesse of his presence? Flo. Apprehend Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues (Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken The shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter, Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine, As I seeme now. Their transformations, Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer, Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires Run not before mine honor: nor my Lusts Burne hotter then my Faith

Perd. O but Sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Oppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King: One of these two must be necessities, Which then will speake, that you must change this purpose, Or I my life

Flo. Thou deer'st Perdita, With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not The Mirth o'th' Feast: Or Ile be thine (my Faire) Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be Mine owne, 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 comming: Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day Of celebration of that nuptiall, which We two haue sworne shall come

Perd. O Lady Fortune, Stand you auspicious

Flo. See, your Guests approach, Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth

Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vpon This day, she was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke, Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all: seru'd all, Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heere At vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle: On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire With labour, and the thing she tooke to quench it She would to each one sip. You are retyred, As if you were a feasted one: and not The Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bid These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne. Come, quench your blushes, and present your selfe That which you are, Mistris o'th' Feast. Come on, And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing, As your good flocke shall prosper

Perd. Sir, welcome: It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee The Hostesseship o'th' day: you're welcome sir. Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs, For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepe Seeming, and sauour all the Winter long: Grace, and Remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our Shearing

Pol. Shepherdesse, (A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages With flowres of Winter

Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient, Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o'th season Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors, (Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not To get slips of them

Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden) Do you neglect them

Perd. For I haue heard it said, There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares With great creating-Nature

Pol. Say there be: Yet Nature is made better by no meane, But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art, (Which you say addes to Nature) is an Art That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke, And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but The Art it selfe, is Nature

Perd. So it is

Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors, And do not call them bastards

Perd. Ile not put The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them: No more then were I painted, I would wish This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you: Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum, The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun, And with him rises, weeping: These are flowres Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome

Cam. I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke, And onely liue by gazing

Perd. Out alas: You'ld be so leane, that blasts of Ianuary Would blow you through and through. Now (my fairst Friend, I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring, that might Become your time of day: and yours, and yours, That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina, For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall From Dysses Waggon: Daffadils, That come before the Swallow dares, and take The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim, But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses, That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds, (The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke, To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend, To strew him o're, and ore

Flo. What? like a Coarse? Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on: Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried, But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours, Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them do In Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine Do's change my disposition: Flo. What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet) I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing, I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes, Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A waue o'th Sea, that you might euer do Nothing but that: moue still, still so: And owne no other Function. Each your doing, (So singular, in each particular) Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds, That all your Actes, are Queenes

Perd. O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth And the true blood which peepes fairely through't, Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd Shepherd With wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles) You woo'd me the false way

Flo. I thinke you haue As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray, Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire That neuer meane to part

Perd. Ile sweare for 'em

Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes But smackes of something greater then her selfe, Too Noble for this place

Cam. He tels her something That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is The Queene of Curds and Creame

Clo. Come on: strike vp

Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick to mend her kissing with

Mop. Now in good time

Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners, Come, strike vp.

Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.

Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this, Which dances with your daughter? Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it: He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter, I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the Moone Vpon the water, as hee'l stand and reade As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine, I thinke there is not halfe a kisse to choose Who loues another best

Pol. She dances featly

Shep. So she do's any thing, though I report it That should be silent: If yong Doricles Do light vpon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreames of. Enter Seruant.

Ser. O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at the doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singes seuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money: hee vtters them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to his Tunes

Clo. He could neuer come better: hee shall come in: I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter merrily set downe: or a very pleasant thing indeede, and sung lamentably

Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes: No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he has the prettiest Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie (which is strange,) with such delicate burthens of Dildo's and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where some stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meane mischeefe, and breake a fowle gap into the Matter, hee makes the maid to answere, Whoop, doe me no harme good man: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, doe mee no harme good man

Pol. This is a braue fellow

Clo. Beleeue mee, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares? Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Rainebow; Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can learnedly handle, though they come to him by th' grosse: Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he sings em ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would thinke a Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes to the sleeue-hand, and the worke about the square on't

Clo. Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach singing

Perd. Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous words in's tunes

Clow. You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more in them, then youl'd thinke (Sister.) Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke. Enter Autolicus singing.

Lawne as white as driuen Snow, Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow, Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses, Maskes for faces, and for noses: Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber, Perfume for a Ladies Chamber: Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers For my Lads, to giue their deers: Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele. What Maids lacke from head to heele: Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy, Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy

Clo. If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues

Mop. I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they come not too late now

Dor. He hath promis'd you more then that, or there be lyars

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be he has paid you more, which will shame you to giue him againe

Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they weare their plackets, where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time? When you are going to bed? Or kill-hole? To whistle of these secrets, but you must be tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more

Mop. I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdrylace, and a paire of sweet Gloues

Clo. Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and lost all my money

Aut. And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, therfore it behooues men to be wary

Clo. Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here Aut. I hope so sir, for I haue about me many parcels of charge

Clo. What hast heere? Ballads? Mop. Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, a life, for then we are sure they are true

Aut. Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsurers wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs at a burthen, and how she long'd to eate Adders heads, and Toads carbonado'd

Mop. Is it true, thinke you? Aut. Very true, and but a moneth old

Dor. Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer

Aut. Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist[ris]. Tale-Porter, and fiue or six honest Wiues, that were present. Why should I carry lyes abroad? Mop. 'Pray you now buy it

Clo. Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see moe Ballads: Wee'l buy the other things anon

Aut. Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared vpon the coast, on wensday the fourescore of April, fortie thousand fadom aboue water, & sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a Woman, and was turn'd into a cold fish, for she wold not exchange flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very pittifull, and as true

Dor. Is it true too, thinke you

Autol. Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses more then my packe will hold

Clo. Lay it by too; another

Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one

Mop. Let's haue some merry ones

Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of two maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maide westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you

Mop. We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou shalt heare, 'tis in three parts

Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe

Aut. I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my occupation: Haue at it with you:

Song

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

Dor. Whether? Mop. O whether? Dor. Whether? Mop. It becomes thy oath full well, Thou to me thy secrets tell

Dor: Me too: Let me go thether: Mop: Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill, Dor: If to either thou dost ill, Aut: Neither

Dor: What neither? Aut: Neither: Dor: Thou hast sworne my Loue to be, Mop: Thou hast sworne it more to mee. Then whether goest? Say whether? Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My Father, and the Gent. are in sad talke, & wee'll not trouble them: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ile buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the first choice; folow me girles

Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.

Song.

Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape? My dainty Ducke, my deere-a? Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head Of the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a. Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler, That doth vtter all mens ware-a.

Exit

Seruant. Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shepherds, three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made themselues all men of haire, they cal themselues Saltiers, and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gally-maufrey of Gambols, because they are not in't: but they themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too rough for some, that know little but bowling) it will please plentifully

Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wearie you

Pol. You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's see these foure-threes of Heardsmen

Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,) hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of the three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire

Shep. Leaue your prating, since these good men are pleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now

Ser. Why, they stay at doore Sir.

Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.

Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter: Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them, He's simple, and tels much. How now (faire shepheard) Your heart is full of something, that do's take Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong, And handed loue, as you do; I was wont To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt The Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr'd it To her acceptance: you haue let him go, And nothing marted with him. If your Lasse Interpretation should abuse, and call this Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited For a reply at least, if you make a care Of happie holding her

Flo. Old Sir, I know She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already, But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme) Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as Doues-downe, and as white as it, Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd snow, that's bolted By th' Northerne blasts, twice ore

Pol. What followes this? How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to wash The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out, But to your protestation: Let me heare What you professe

Flo. Do, and be witnesse too't

Pol. And this my neighbour too? Flo. And he, and more Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all; That were I crown'd the most Imperiall Monarch Thereof most worthy: were I the fayrest youth That euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledge More then was euer mans, I would not prize them Without her Loue; for her, employ them all, Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice, Or to their owne perdition

Pol. Fairely offer'd

Cam. This shewes a sound affection

Shep. But my daughter, Say you the like to him

Per. I cannot speake So well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane better By th' patterne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out The puritie of his

Shep. Take hands, a bargaine; And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't: I giue my daughter to him, and will make Her Portion, equall his

Flo. O, that must bee I'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead, I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet, Enough then for your wonder: but come-on, Contract vs fore these Witnesses

Shep. Come, your hand: And daughter, yours

Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you, Haue you a Father? Flo. I haue: but what of him? Pol. Knowes he of this? Flo. He neither do's, nor shall

Pol. Me-thinkes a Father, Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guest That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more Is not your Father growne incapeable Of reasonable affayres? Is he not stupid With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare? Know man, from man? Dispute his owne estate? Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothing But what he did, being childish? Flo. No good Sir: He has his health, and ampler strength indeede Then most haue of his age

Pol. By my white beard, You offer him (if this be so) a wrong Something vnfilliall: Reason my sonne Should choose himselfe a wife, but as good reason The Father (all whose ioy is nothing else But faire posterity) should hold some counsaile In such a businesse

Flo. I yeeld all this; But for some other reasons (my graue Sir) Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint My Father of this businesse

Pol. Let him know't

Flo. He shall not

Pol. Prethee let him

Flo. No, he must not

Shep. Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeue At knowing of thy choice

Flo. Come, come, he must not: Marke our Contract

Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong sir) Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too base To be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire, That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor, I am sorry, that by hanging thee, I can But shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peece Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must know The royall Foole thou coap'st with

Shep. Oh my heart

Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy) If I may euer know thou dost but sigh, That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer I meane thou shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession, Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin, Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words) Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time (Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment, Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too, That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein) Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou These rurall Latches, to his entrance open, Or hope his body more, with thy embraces, I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee As thou art tender to't. Enter.

Perd. Euen heere vndone: I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice I was about to speake, and tell him plainely, The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court, Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but Lookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone? I told you what would come of this: Beseech you Of your owne state take care: This dreame of mine Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther, But milke my Ewes, and weepe

Cam. Why how now Father, Speake ere thou dyest

Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke, Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir, You haue vndone a man of fourescore three, That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea, To dye vpon the bed my father dy'de, To lye close by his honest bones; but now Some Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me Where no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch, That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone: If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd To die when I desire. Enter.

Flo. Why looke you so vpon me? I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid, But nothing altred: What I was, I am: More straining on, for plucking backe; not following My leash vnwillingly

Cam. Gracious my Lord, You know my Fathers temper: at this time He will allow no speech: (which I do ghesse You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare; Then till the fury of his Highnesse settle Come not before him

Flo. I not purpose it: I thinke Camillo

Cam. Euen he, my Lord

Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus? How often said my dignity would last But till 'twer knowne? Flo. It cannot faile, but by The violation of my faith, and then Let Nature crush the sides o'th earth together, And marre the seeds within. Lift vp thy lookes: From my succession wipe me (Father) I Am heyre to my affection

Cam. Be aduis'd

Flo. I am: and by my fancie, if my Reason Will thereto be obedient: I haue reason: If not, my sences better pleas'd with madnesse, Do bid it welcome

Cam. This is desperate (sir.) Flo. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow: I needs must thinke it honesty. Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may Be thereat gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or The close earth wombes, or the profound seas, hides In vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oath To this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you, As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend, When he shall misse me, as (in faith I meane not To see him any more) cast your good counsailes Vpon his passion: Let my selfe, and Fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know, And so deliuer, I am put to Sea With her, who heere I cannot hold on shore: And most opportune to her neede, I haue A Vessell rides fast by, but not prepar'd For this designe. What course I meane to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concerne me the reporting

Cam. O my Lord, I would your spirit were easier for aduice, Or stronger for your neede

Flo. Hearke Perdita, Ile heare you by and by

Cam. Hee's irremoueable, Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if His going, I could frame to serue my turne, Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor, Purchase the sight againe of deere Sicillia, And that vnhappy King, my Master, whom I so much thirst to see

Flo. Now good Camillo, I am so fraught with curious businesse, that I leaue out ceremony

Cam. Sir, I thinke You haue heard of my poore seruices, i'th loue That I haue borne your Father? Flo. Very nobly Haue you deseru'd: It is my Fathers Musicke To speake your deeds: not little of his care To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on