The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

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 Polixenes.
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, 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.

For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall
From Dis's waggon! daffodils,

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
And only live by gazing.
[flock,

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,

That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty: violets, diu
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.

So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.

Per. O Doricles,

marry

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;

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 With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
The art itself is nature.
You woo'd me the false way.
Flo. I think, you have

Per. So it is.

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly- As little skill to fear, as I have purpose

flowers,

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

To put you to't.-But, come ;, our dance, I pray.
Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,
That never mean to part.

Per. I'll swear for 'em.

ever

Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that [seems, Ran on the green sward: nothing she does or But smacks of something greater than herself; Too noble for this place.

Can. He tells her something,

That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is
The queen of curds and cream.

२७.

Clo. Come on, strike up.

Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry,
garlic,
To mend her kissing with.-
Mop. Now, in good time!

Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our

manners.

Come, strike up.

[music

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 daugh-
I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon [ter;
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. DayServ. O master, if you did but hear the pedlar 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 stretchmouth'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 a 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;
msn Bugle bracelet, necklace-amber, my
Perfume for a lady's chamber:
Golden quoifs, and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears;d
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 promis'd you more than that, or there be liars.

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd 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 plaikets, 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 promis'd me a tawdry lace, and a pair of sweet gloves.

Clo. Have I not told thee, how I was cozencd by the way, and lost all my mongy?

Aut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore, it behoves men to be wary.

SAW.A

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, a'-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 money-bags 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 baïlad is very pitiful, and as true.

197

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 sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you."

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

Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago.

Aut. I can bear my part; you must know, 'tis Of happy holding her. my occupation: have at it with you.

Flo. Old sir, I know

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

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.

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 our-
selves: 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.

out:

Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. [aside. 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:

[excunt. That,-were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve; had force, and know. ledge,

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 ser-
Or to their own perdition.
[vice,
Pol. Fairly offer'd.

Cam. This shows a sound affection.

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
And handed love, as you do, I was wont [young,
To load my she with knacks: I would have ran-

sack'd

For a reply, at least, if you make a care

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

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 swan seems to wash
The hand, was fair before!I have put you

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.
Flo. He shall not.
Pol. Pr'ythee, let him.
Flo. No, he must not.

[grieve

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

Flo. Come, come, he must not :Mark our contract.

Pol. Mark your divorce, young sir, [discovers 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
The royal fool thou cop'st with ;-
[know

Shep. O, my heart!

Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briars, and made [boy,More homely than thy state. For thee, fond 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 dread 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.

[exit.

Per. 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, begone?
[to Flor.
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.

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.

Cam. 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 iniss 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

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; (from the whom, I
see,
There's no disjunction to be made, but by,
As heavens forfend! your ruin :) marry her;
And (with my best endeavours, in your absence,)
Your discontenting father strive to qualify,
And bring him up to liking.

Cam. Have you thought on

A place, whereto you'll go?

Flo. 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:

[purpose,

This follows,-if you will not change your
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; 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?

Sir,

Cam. Sent by the king your father
To greet him, and to give him comforts.
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What you, as from your father, shall deliver,
Things known betwixt us three, I'll write yoz
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. I am bound to you:
There is some sap in this.

Cam. A course more promising
Than a wild dedication of yourselves

[certain,

To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores; most
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 a
Prosperity's the very bond of love;
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
Affliction alters.
1116 2:621 Joie

Per. One of these is true:

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

Cam. Yea, say you so?

There shall not, at your father's
Be born another such.d
Flo. My good Camillo,

She is as forward of her breeding, as
I'the rear of birth.

9318

Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pity you
She lacks instructions; for she seems a mistress
To most that teach.

Per. Your pardon, sir, for this;
I'll blush you thanks.
Dani 1975

Flo. My prettiest Perdita.

Flo. How, Camillo,

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

May this, almost a miracle, be done?

That I may call thee something more than man, The medicin of our house! how shall we do mal
And, after that, trust to thee.
We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son; ul.
Nor shall appear in Sicily yo

Jass

house, these [seven years,

Cam. My lord,

4T and woI Fear none of this: I think, you know, my fortunes Do all lie there: it shall be so my care. 198 To have you royally appointed, as if volums bad The scene you play were mine. For instances sir, Id et Maist [word. That you may know you shall not want,—one Enter Autolycus.

404

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 buy first; as if my trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a bene diction 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,)

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: From the Text of Johnson ...