am, littered under Mercury, was like-wise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With dye, and drab, I purchased this caparison; and my revenue is the silly cheat. Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the highway; beating, and hanging, are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it.-A prize! A prize! Enter Clown. Clo. Let me see; - Every 'leven wether-tods; every tod yields-pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wool to? [Aside. Three pound what will this Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. Clo. I cannot do't without counters.-Let me see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? of sugar; five pound of currants; ricesister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four-and-twenty nosegays for the shearers; three-man songmen all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases: but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have saffron, to color the warden 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. I'the name of me, [Grovelling on the ground. Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death! 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. Clo. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter. Aut. I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me. Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man? Aut. A foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man. Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the garments he hath left with thee; if this be a horse-man's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand; I'll help thee! come, lend me thy hand. [Helping him up. Aut. O, good sir, tenderly, oh! Clo. Alas, poor soul! Aut. O, good sir, softly, good sir. shoulder-blade is out. Clo. How now? canst stand? I fear, sir, my Aut. Softly, dear sir; [Picks his pocket.] good sir, softly. You ha' done me a charitable office. Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. Aut. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir; I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want. Offer me no money, I pray you, that kills my heart. Clo. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you. 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. Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court. They cherish it, to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide. Aut. Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue. Some call him Autolycus. Clo. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings. Aut. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that put me into this apparel. Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but looked big, and spit at him, he'd have run. Aut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter. I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him. 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 for our sheep-shearing. Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir!-[Exit Clown.] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too. If I make not this cheat VOL. II.-8 bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my name put in the book of virtue! Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, [Exit. SCENE III. The same. A Shepherd's Cottage. Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA. Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing And you the queen on't. Per. Flo. I bless the time, Per. Should pass this way, as you did. O the fates! Flo. As I seem now. Their transformations Per. O, but, dear sir, Opposed, as it must be, by the power o' the king: Which then will speak; that you must change this pur With these forced thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not Mine own, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine: to this I am most constant, Of celebration of that nuptial, which We two have sworn shall come. Per. Stand you auspicious! O lady Fortune, Enter Shepherd, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO, disguised; Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others. Flo. See, your guests approach: Shep. Fie, daughter! When my old wife lived, upon This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook; Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all; Would sing her song, and dance her turn; now here, On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire With labor; and the thing she took to quench it, And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, Per. Welcome, sir! [To POL. It is my father's will I should take on me [To CAMILLO. Pol. Shepherdess, (A fair one are you,) well you fit our ages With flowers of winter. Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,— Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter,-the fairest flowers o' the season, Which some call nature's bastards. Of that kind Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, For I have heard it said, There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares With great creating nature. Pol. Say, there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean; so, 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 Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilliflowers, And do not call them bastards. Per. I'll not put 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 therefore Desire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savory marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, |