Here a dance Of SHEPHERDS and SHEPHERDESSES
POLIXENES. Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this
Which dances with your daughter?
SHEPHERD. They call him Doricles, and 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.
POLIXENES. She dances featly.
SHEPHERD. 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
SERVANT. 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.
CLOWN. 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.
SERVANT. 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.'
POLIXENES. This is a brave fellow.
CLOWN. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited
fellow.
Has he any unbraided wares?
SERVANT. He hath ribbons of all the colours i' th' rainbow;
points,
more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle,
though
they come to him by th' gross; inkles, caddisses, cambrics,
lawns. Why he sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses;
you
would think a smock were she-angel, he so chants to the
sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't.
CLOWN. Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing.
PERDITA. Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in's
tunes.
Exit SERVANT
CLOWN. You have of these pedlars that have more in them than
you'd
think, sister.
PERDITA. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
Enter AUTOLYCUS, Singing
Lawn as white as driven snow;
Cypress 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.
CLOWN. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no
money of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be
the
bondage of certain ribbons and gloves.
MOPSA. I was promis'd them against the feast; but they come not
too
late now.
DORCAS. He hath promis'd you more than that, or there be liars.
MOPSA. He hath paid you all he promis'd you. May be he has paid
you
more, which will shame you to give him again.
CLOWN. 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 whisp'ring. Clammer your tongues,
and
not a word more.
MOPSA. I have done. Come, you promis'd me a tawdry-lace, and a
pair
of sweet gloves.
CLOWN. Have I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and
lost
all my money?
AUTOLYCUS. And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad;
therefore it
behoves men to be wary.
CLOWN. Fear not thou, man; thou shalt lose nothing here.
AUTOLYCUS. I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of
charge.
CLOWN. What hast here? Ballads?
MOPSA. Pray now, buy some. I love a ballad in print a-life, for
then we are sure they are true.
AUTOLYCUS. 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
long'd to eat adders' heads and toads carbonado'd.
MOPSA. Is it true, think you?
AUTOLYCUS. Very true, and but a month old.
DORCAS. Bless me from marrying a usurer!
AUTOLYCUS. 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?
MOPSA. Pray you now, buy it.
CLOWN. Come on, lay it by; and let's first see moe ballads;
we'll
buy the other things anon.
AUTOLYCUS. 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 turn'd into a
cold
fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that lov'd
her.
The ballad is very pitiful, and as true.
DORCAS. Is it true too, think you?
AUTOLYCUS. Five justices' hands at it; and witnesses more than
my
pack will hold.
CLOWN. Lay it by too. Another.
AUTOLYCUS. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
MOPSA. Let's have some merry ones.
AUTOLYCUS. 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, I can tell you.
MOPSA. can both sing it. If thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt
hear;
'tis in three parts.
DORCAS. We had the tune on't a month ago.
AUTOLYCUS. I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my
occupation.
Have at it with you.
SONG
AUTOLYCUS. Get you hence, for I must go
Where it fits not you to know.
DORCAS. Whither?
MOPSA. O, whither?
DORCAS. Whither?
MOPSA. It becomes thy oath full well
Thou to me thy secrets tell.
DORCAS. Me too! Let me go thither
MOPSA. Or thou goest to th' grange or mill.
DORCAS. If to either, thou dost ill.
AUTOLYCUS. Neither.
DORCAS. What, neither?
AUTOLYCUS. Neither.
DORCAS. Thou hast sworn my love to be.
MOPSA. Thou hast sworn it more to me.
Then whither goest? Say, whither?
CLOWN. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves; 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.
Pedlar, let's have the first choice. Follow me, girls.
Exit with DORCAS and MOPSA
AUTOLYCUS. And you shall pay well for 'em.
Exit AUTOLYCUS, Singing
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 pedlar;
Money's a meddler
That doth utter all men's ware-a.
Re-enter SERVANT
SERVANT. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three
neat-herds, three swineherds, that have made themselves all
men
of hair; they call themselves Saltiers, and they have dance
which
the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are
not
in't; but they themselves are o' th' mind, if it be not too
rough
for some that know little but bowling, it will please
plentifully.
SHEPHERD. Away! We'll none on't; here has been too much homely
foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you.
POLIXENES. You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let's see
these
four threes of herdsmen.
SERVANT. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath
danc'd
before the King; and not the worst of the three but jumps
twelve
foot and a half by th' squier.
SHEPHERD. Leave your prating; since these good men are pleas'd,
let
them come in; but quickly now.
SERVANT. Why, they stay at door, sir. Exit
Here a dance of twelve SATYRS
POLIXENES. [To SHEPHERD] O, father, you'll know more of that
hereafter.
[To CAMILLO] Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them.
He's simple and tells much. [To FLORIZEL] 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 pedlar'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.
FLORIZEL. 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, whom, 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 th' northern blasts twice o'er.
POLIXENES. 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.
FLORIZEL. Do, and be witness to't.
POLIXENES. And this my neighbour too?
FLORIZEL. 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
That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge
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
Or to their own perdition.
POLIXENES. Fairly offer'd.
CAMILLO. This shows a sound affection.
SHEPHERD. But, my daughter,
Say you the like to him?
PERDITA. I cannot speak
So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better.
By th' pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.
SHEPHERD. Take hands, a bargain!
And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't:
I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.
FLORIZEL. O, that must be
I' th' virtue of your daughter. One being dead,
I shall have more than you can dream of yet;
Enough then for your wonder. But come on,
Contract us fore these witnesses.
SHEPHERD. Come, your hand;
And, daughter, yours.
POLIXENES. Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you;
Have you a father?
FLORIZEL. I have, but what of him?
POLIXENES. Knows he of this?
FLORIZEL. He neither does nor shall.
POLIXENES. 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 alt'ring 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?
FLORIZEL. No, good sir;
He has his health, and ampler strength indeed
Than most have of his age.
POLIXENES. 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.
FLORIZEL. 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.
POLIXENES. Let him know't.
FLORIZEL. He shall not.
POLIXENES. Prithee let him.
FLORIZEL. No, he must not.
SHEPHERD. Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve
At knowing of thy choice.
FLORIZEL. Come, come, he must not.
Mark our contract.
POLIXENES. [Discovering himself] Mark your divorce, young
sir,
Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base
To be acknowledg'd- thou a sceptre's heir,
That thus affects 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-
SHEPHERD. O, my heart!
POLIXENES. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers 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,
Farre 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. Exit
PERDITA. 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. [To FLORIZEL] Will't please you, sir, be
gone?
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 farther,
But milk my ewes and weep.
CAMILLO. Why, how now, father!
Speak ere thou diest.
SHEPHERD. I cannot speak nor think,
Nor dare to know that which I know. [To FLORIZEL] O sir,
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. [To PERDITA] O cursed
wretch,
That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst adventure
To mingle faith with him!- Undone, undone!
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire. Exit
FLORIZEL. Why look you so upon me?
I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd,
But nothing alt'red. What I was, I am:
More straining on for plucking back; not following
My leash unwillingly.
CAMILLO. 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.
FLORIZEL. I not purpose it.
I think Camillo?
CAMILLO. Even he, my lord.
PERDITA. How often have I told you 'twould be thus!
How often said my dignity would last
But till 'twere known!
FLORIZEL. It cannot fail but by
The violation of my faith; and then
Let nature crush the sides o' th' earth together
And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks.
From my succession wipe me, father; I
Am heir to my affection.
CAMILLO. Be advis'd.
FLORIZEL. 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.
CAMILLO. This is desperate, sir.
FLORIZEL. 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 hides
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 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 who here I cannot hold on shore.
And most opportune to her 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.
CAMILLO. O my lord,
I would your spirit were easier for advice.
Or stronger for your need.
FLORIZEL. Hark, Perdita. [Takes her aside]
[To CAMILLO] I'll hear you by and by.
CAMILLO. 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.
FLORIZEL. Now, good Camillo,
I am so fraught with curious business that
I leave out ceremony.
CAMILLO. Sir, I think
You have heard of my poor services i' th' love
That I have borne your father?
FLORIZEL. 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.
CAMILLO. Well, my lord,
If you may please to think I love the King,
And through him what's 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, 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.
FLORIZEL. How, Camillo,
May this, almost a miracle, be done?
That I may call thee something more than man,
And after that trust to thee.
CAMILLO. Have you thought on
A place whereto you'll go?
FLORIZEL. Not any yet;
But as th' 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.
CAMILLO. 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 there 'Son, forgiveness!'
As 'twere i' th' father's person; kisses the hands
Of your fresh princess; o'er and o'er divides him
'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness- th' one
He chides to hell, and bids the other grow
Faster than thought or time.
FLORIZEL. Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my visitation shall I
Hold up before him?
CAMILLO. 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.
FLORIZEL. I am bound to you.
There is some sap in this.
CAMILLO. 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.
PERDITA. One of these is true:
I think affliction may subdue the cheek,
But not take in the mind.
CAMILLO. Yea, say you so?
There shall not at your father's house these seven years
Be born another such.
FLORIZEL. My good Camillo,
She is as forward of her breeding as
She is i' th' rear o' our birth.
CAMILLO. I cannot say 'tis pity
She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress
To most that teach.
PERDITA. Your pardon, sir; for this
I'll blush you thanks.
FLORIZEL. My prettiest Perdita!
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 Sicilia.
CAMILLO. 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 talk aside]
Re-enter AUTOLYCUS
AUTOLYCUS. 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 ribbon, 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
benediction to the buyer; by which means I saw whose purse
was
best in picture; and what I saw, to my good use I rememb'red.
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 pinch'd a placket, it was senseless; 'twas nothing to
geld a
codpiece of a purse; I would have fil'd 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 pick'd
and
cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man
come
in with whoobub against his daughter and the King's son and
scar'd my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse
alive in
the whole army.
CAMILLO, FLORIZEL, and PERDITA come forward
CAMILLO. Nay, but my letters, by this means being there
So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.
FLORIZEL. And those that you'll procure from King Leontes?
CAMILLO. Shall satisfy your father.
PERDITA. Happy be you!
All that you speak shows fair.
CAMILLO. [seeing AUTOLYCUS] Who have we here?
We'll make an instrument of this; omit
Nothing may give us aid.
AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] If they have overheard me now- why,
hanging.
CAMILLO. How now, good fellow! Why shak'st thou so?
Fear not, man; here's no harm intended to thee.
AUTOLYCUS. I am a poor fellow, sir.
CAMILLO. 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 a
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. [Giving money]
AUTOLYCUS. I am a poor fellow, sir. [Aside] I know ye well
enough.
CAMILLO. Nay, prithee dispatch. The gentleman is half flay'd
already.
AUTOLYCUS. Are you in camest, sir? [Aside] I smell the trick
on't.
FLORIZEL. Dispatch, I prithee.
AUTOLYCUS. Indeed, I have had earnest; but I cannot with
conscience
take it.
CAMILLO. Unbuckle, unbuckle.
FLORIZEL and AUTOLYCUS exchange garments
Fortunate mistress- let my prophecy
Come home to ye!- 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- to shipboard
Get undescried.
PERDITA. I see the play so lies
That I must bear a part.
CAMILLO. No remedy.
Have you done there?
FLORIZEL. Should I now meet my father,
He would not call me son.
CAMILLO. Nay, you shall have no hat.
[Giving it to PERDITA]
Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend.
AUTOLYCUS. Adieu, sir.
FLORIZEL. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot!
Pray you a word. [They converse apart]
CAMILLO. [Aside] What I do next shall be to tell the King
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 re-view Sicilia, for whose sight
I have a woman's longing.
FLORIZEL. Fortune speed us!
Thus we set on, Camillo, to th' sea-side.
CAMILLO. The swifter speed the better.
Exeunt FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and CAMILLO
AUTOLYCUS. 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
th' 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 anything extempore. The Prince himself
is
about a piece of iniquity- stealing away from his father with
his
clog at his heels. If I thought it were a piece of honesty to
acquaint the King withal, I would not do't. I hold it the
more
knavery to conceal it; and therein am I constant to my
profession.
Re-enter CLOWN 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.
CLOWN. 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.
SHEPHERD. Nay, but hear me.
CLOWN. Nay- but hear me.
SHEPHERD. Go to, then.
CLOWN. 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 punish'd 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.
SHEPHERD. 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.
CLOWN. Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you could
have
been to him; and then your blood had been the dearer by I
know
how much an ounce.
AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] Very wisely, puppies!
SHEPHERD. Well, let us to the King. There is that in this
fardel
will make him scratch his beard.
AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] I know not what impediment this complaint
may
be to the flight of my master.
CLOWN. Pray heartily he be at palace.
AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] Though I am not naturally honest, I am so
sometimes by chance. Let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement.
[Takes off his false beard] How now, rustics! Whither are
you
bound?
SHEPHERD. To th' palace, an it like your worship.
AUTOLYCUS. 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 anything that is fitting to be
known- discover.
CLOWN. We are but plain fellows, sir.
AUTOLYCUS. 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.
CLOWN. Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had
not
taken yourself with the manner.
SHEPHERD. Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir?
AUTOLYCUS. 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, that toaze from thee thy
business, I
am therefore no courtier? I am courtier cap-a-pe, and one
that
will either push on or pluck back thy business there;
whereupon I
command the to open thy affair.
SHEPHERD. My business, sir, is to the King.
AUTOLYCUS. What advocate hast thou to him?
SHEPHERD. I know not, an't like you.
CLOWN. Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant; say you have
none.
SHEPHERD. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen.
AUTOLYCUS. How blessed are we that are not simple men!
Yet nature might have made me as these are,
Therefore I will not disdain.
CLOWN. This cannot be but a great courtier.
SHEPHERD. His garments are rich, but he wears them not
handsomely.
CLOWN. He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical.
A great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking on's teeth.
AUTOLYCUS. The fardel there? What's i' th' fardel? Wherefore
that
box?
SHEPHERD. 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 th' speech of him.
AUTOLYCUS. Age, thou hast lost thy labour.
SHEPHERD. Why, Sir?
AUTOLYCUS. 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.
SHEPHERD. So 'tis said, sir- about his son, that should have
married a shepherd's daughter.
AUTOLYCUS. 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.
CLOWN. Think you so, sir?
AUTOLYCUS. Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy
and
vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to him, though
remov'd fifty times, shall all come under the hangman- which,
though it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old
sheep-whistling rogue, a ram-tender, to offer to have his
daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be ston'd; but
that
death is too soft for him, say I. Draw our throne into a
sheep-cote!- all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy.
CLOWN. Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear, an't like
you,
sir?
AUTOLYCUS. He has a son- who shall be flay'd alive; then
'nointed
over with honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest; then stand
till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recover'd
again
with aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as he
is,
and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall he be
set
against a brick wall, the sun looking with a southward eye
upon
him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death. But
what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are
to be
smil'd at, their offences being so capital? Tell me, for you
seem
to be honest plain men, what you have to the King. Being
something gently consider'd, I'll bring you where he is
aboard,
tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your
behalfs;
and if it be in man besides the King to effect your suits,
here
is man shall do it.
CLOWN. He seems to be of great authority. Close with him, give
him
gold; and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft
led
by the nose with gold. Show the inside of your purse to the
outside of his hand, and no more ado. Remember- ston'd and
flay'd
alive.
SHEPHERD. An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for
us,
here is that gold I have. I'll make it as much more, and
leave
this young man in pawn till I bring it you.
AUTOLYCUS. After I have done what I promised?
SHEPHERD. Ay, sir.
AUTOLYCUS. Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this
business?
CLOWN. In some sort, sir; but though my case be a pitiful one,
I
hope I shall not be flay'd out of it.
AUTOLYCUS. O, that's the case of the shepherd's son! Hang him,
he'll be made an example.
CLOWN. Comfort, good comfort! We must to the King and show our
strange sights. He must know 'tis none of your daughter nor
my
sister; we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as
this
old man does, when the business is performed; and remain, as
he
says, your pawn till it be brought you.
AUTOLYCUS. I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side;
go on
the right-hand; I will but look upon the hedge, and follow
you.
CLOWN. We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest.
SHEPHERD. Let's before, as he bids us. He was provided to do us
good. Exeunt SHEPHERD and CLOWN
AUTOLYCUS. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would
not
suffer me: she drops booties in my mouth. I am courted now
with a
double occasion- gold, and a means to do the Prince my master
good; which who knows how that may turn back to my
advancement? I
will bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him. If
he
think it fit to shore them again, and that the complaint they
have to the King concerns him nothing, let him call me rogue
for
being so far officious; for I am proof against that title,
and
what shame else belongs to't. To him will I present them.
There
may be matter in it. Exit
<>
ACT V. SCENE I.
Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES
Enter LEONTES, CLEOMENES, DION, PAULINA, and OTHERS
CLEOMENES. Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd
A saint-like sorrow. No fault could you make
Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down
More penitence than done trespass. At the last,
Do as the heavens have done: forget your evil;
With them forgive yourself.
LEONTES. Whilst I remember
Her and her virtues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them, and so still think of
The wrong I did myself; which was so much
That heirless it hath made my kingdom, and
Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man
Bred his hopes out of.
PAULINA. True, too true, my lord.
If, one by one, you wedded all the world,
Or from the all that are took something good
To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd
Would be unparallel'd.
LEONTES. I think so. Kill'd!
She I kill'd! I did so; but thou strik'st me
Sorely, to say I did. It is as bitter
Upon thy tongue as in my thought. Now, good now,
Say so but seldom.
CLEOMENES. Not at all, good lady.
You might have spoken a thousand things that would
Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd
Your kindness better.
PAULINA. You are one of those
Would have him wed again.
DION. If you would not so,
You pity not the state, nor the remembrance
Of his most sovereign name; consider little
What dangers, by his Highness' fail of issue,
May drop upon his kingdom and devour
Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy
Than to rejoice the former queen is well?
What holier than, for royalty's repair,
For present comfort, and for future good,
To bless the bed of majesty again
With a sweet fellow to't?
PAULINA. There is none worthy,
Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods
Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes;
For has not the divine Apollo said,
Is't not the tenour of his oracle,
That King Leontes shall not have an heir
Till his lost child be found? Which that it shall,
Is all as monstrous to our human reason
As my Antigonus to break his grave
And come again to me; who, on my life,
Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel
My lord should to the heavens be contrary,
Oppose against their wills. [To LEONTES] Care not for
issue;
The crown will find an heir. Great Alexander
Left his to th' worthiest; so his successor
Was like to be the best.
LEONTES. Good Paulina,
Who hast the memory of Hermione,
I know, in honour, O that ever I
Had squar'd me to thy counsel! Then, even now,
I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes,
Have taken treasure from her lips-
PAULINA. And left them
More rich for what they yielded.
LEONTES. Thou speak'st truth.
No more such wives; therefore, no wife. One worse,
And better us'd, would make her sainted spirit
Again possess her corpse, and on this stage,
Where we offend her now, appear soul-vex'd,
And begin 'Why to me'-
PAULINA. Had she such power,
She had just cause.
LEONTES. She had; and would incense me
To murder her I married.
PAULINA. I should so.
Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you mark
Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't
You chose her; then I'd shriek, that even your ears
Should rift to hear me; and the words that follow'd
Should be 'Remember mine.'
LEONTES. Stars, stars,
And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no wife;
I'll have no wife, Paulina.
PAULINA. Will you swear
Never to marry but by my free leave?
LEONTES. Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit!
PAULINA. Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.
CLEOMENES. You tempt him over-much.
PAULINA. Unless another,
As like Hermione as is her picture,
Affront his eye.
CLEOMENES. Good madam-
PAULINA. I have done.
Yet, if my lord will marry- if you will, sir,
No remedy but you will- give me the office
To choose you a queen. She shall not be so young
As was your former; but she shall be such
As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy
To see her in your arms.
LEONTES. My true Paulina,
We shall not marry till thou bid'st us.
PAULINA. That
Shall be when your first queen's again in breath;
Never till then.
Enter a GENTLEMAN
GENTLEMAN. One that gives out himself Prince Florizel,
Son of Polixenes, with his princess- she
The fairest I have yet beheld- desires access
To your high presence.
LEONTES. What with him? He comes not
Like to his father's greatness. His approach,
So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us
'Tis not a visitation fram'd, but forc'd
By need and accident. What train?
GENTLEMAN. But few,
And those but mean.
LEONTES. His princess, say you, with him?
GENTLEMAN. Ay; the most peerless piece of earth, I think,
That e'er the sun shone bright on.
PAULINA. O Hermione,
As every present time doth boast itself
Above a better gone, so must thy grave
Give way to what's seen now! Sir, you yourself
Have said and writ so, but your writing now
Is colder than that theme: 'She had not been,
Nor was not to be equall'd.' Thus your verse
Flow'd with her beauty once; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,
To say you have seen a better.
GENTLEMAN. Pardon, madam.
The one I have almost forgot- your pardon;
The other, when she has obtain'd your eye,
Will have your tongue too. This is a creature,
Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal
Of all professors else, make proselytes
Of who she but bid follow.
PAULINA. How! not women?
GENTLEMAN. Women will love her that she is a woman
More worth than any man; men, that she is
The rarest of all women.
LEONTES. Go, Cleomenes;
Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends,
Bring them to our embracement. Exeunt
Still, 'tis strange
He thus should steal upon us.
PAULINA. Had our prince,
Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd
Well with this lord; there was not full a month
Between their births.
LEONTES. Prithee no more; cease. Thou know'st
He dies to me again when talk'd of. Sure,
When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches
Will bring me to consider that which may
Unfurnish me of reason.
Re-enter CLEOMENES, with FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and
ATTENDANTS
They are come.
Your mother was most true to wedlock, Prince;
For she did print your royal father off,
Conceiving you. Were I but twenty-one,
Your father's image is so hit in you
His very air, that I should call you brother,
As I did him, and speak of something wildly
By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome!
And your fair princess- goddess! O, alas!
I lost a couple that 'twixt heaven and earth
Might thus have stood begetting wonder as
You, gracious couple, do. And then I lost-
All mine own folly- the society,
Amity too, of your brave father, whom,
Though bearing misery, I desire my life
Once more to look on him.
FLORIZEL. By his command
Have I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him
Give you all greetings that a king, at friend,
Can send his brother; and, but infirmity,
Which waits upon worn times, hath something seiz'd
His wish'd ability, he had himself
The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his
Measur'd, to look upon you; whom he loves,
He bade me say so, more than all the sceptres
And those that bear them living.
LEONTES. O my brother-
Good gentleman!- the wrongs I have done thee stir
Afresh within me; and these thy offices,
So rarely kind, are as interpreters
Of my behind-hand slackness! Welcome hither,
As is the spring to th' earth. And hath he too
Expos'd this paragon to th' fearful usage,
At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune,
To greet a man not worth her pains, much less
Th' adventure of her person?
FLORIZEL. Good, my lord,
She came from Libya.
LEONTES. Where the warlike Smalus,
That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and lov'd?
FLORIZEL. Most royal sir, from thence; from him whose daughter
His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her; thence,
A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross'd,
To execute the charge my father gave me
For visiting your Highness. My best train
I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd;
Who for Bohemia bend, to signify
Not only my success in Libya, sir,
But my arrival and my wife's in safety
Here where we are.
LEONTES. The blessed gods
Purge all infection from our air whilst you
Do climate here! You have a holy father,
A graceful gentleman, against whose person,
So sacred as it is, I have done sin,
For which the heavens, taking angry note,
Have left me issueless; and your father's blest,
As he from heaven merits it, with you,
Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,
Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on,
Such goodly things as you!
Enter a LORD
LORD. Most noble sir,
That which I shall report will bear no credit,
Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir,
Bohemia greets you from himself by me;
Desires you to attach his son, who has-
His dignity and duty both cast off-
Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
A shepherd's daughter.
LEONTES. Where's Bohemia? Speak.
LORD. Here in your city; I now came from him.
I speak amazedly; and it becomes
My marvel and my message. To your court
Whiles he was hast'ning- in the chase, it seems,
Of this fair couple- meets he on the way
The father of this seeming lady and
Her brother, having both their country quitted
With this young prince.
FLORIZEL. Camillo has betray'd me;
Whose honour and whose honesty till now
Endur'd all weathers.
LORD. Lay't so to his charge;
He's with the King your father.
LEONTES. Who? Camillo?
LORD. Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now
Has these poor men in question. Never saw I
Wretches so quake. They kneel, they kiss the earth;
Forswear themselves as often as they speak.
Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them
With divers deaths in death.
PERDITA. O my poor father!
The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.
LEONTES. You are married?
FLORIZEL. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;
The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first.
The odds for high and low's alike.
LEONTES. My lord,
Is this the daughter of a king?
FLORIZEL. She is,
When once she is my wife.
LEONTES. That 'once,' I see by your good father's speed,
Will come on very slowly. I am sorry,
Most sorry, you have broken from his liking
Where you were tied in duty; and as sorry
Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty,
That you might well enjoy her.
FLORIZEL. Dear, look up.
Though Fortune, visible an enemy,
Should chase us with my father, pow'r no jot
Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir,
Remember since you ow'd no more to time
Than I do now. With thought of such affections,
Step forth mine advocate; at your request
My father will grant precious things as trifles.
LEONTES. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mistress,
Which he counts but a trifle.
PAULINA. Sir, my liege,
Your eye hath too much youth in't. Not a month
Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes
Than what you look on now.
LEONTES. I thought of her
Even in these looks I made. [To FLORIZEL] But your petition
Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father.
Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires,
I am friend to them and you. Upon which errand
I now go toward him; therefore, follow me,
And mark what way I make. Come, good my lord. Exeunt
SCENE II.
Sicilia. Before the palace of LEONTES
Enter AUTOLYCUS and a GENTLEMAN
AUTOLYCUS. Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation?
FIRST GENTLEMAN. I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard
the
old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it; whereupon,
after
a little amazedness, we were all commanded out of the
chamber;
only this, methought I heard the shepherd say he found the
child.
AUTOLYCUS. I would most gladly know the issue of it.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. I make a broken delivery of the business; but
the
changes I perceived in the King and Camillo were very notes
of
admiration. They seem'd almost, with staring on one another,
to
tear the cases of their eyes; there was speech in their
dumbness,
language in their very gesture; they look'd as they had heard
of
a world ransom'd, or one destroyed. A notable passion of
wonder
appeared in them; but the wisest beholder that knew no more
but
seeing could not say if th' importance were joy or sorrow-
but in
the extremity of the one it must needs be.
Enter another GENTLEMAN
Here comes a gentleman that happily knows more. The news,
Rogero?
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Nothing but bonfires. The oracle is
fulfill'd:
the King's daughter is found. Such a deal of wonder is broken
out
within this hour that ballad-makers cannot be able to express
it.
Enter another GENTLEMAN
Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward; he can deliver you
more.
How goes it now, sir? This news, which is call'd true, is so
like
an old tale that the verity of it is in strong suspicion. Has
the
King found his heir?
THIRD GENTLEMAN. Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by
circumstance. That which you hear you'll swear you see, there
is
such unity in the proofs. The mantle of Queen Hermione's; her
jewel about the neck of it; the letters of Antigonus found
with
it, which they know to be his character; the majesty of the
creature in resemblance of the mother; the affection of
nobleness
which nature shows above her breeding; and many other
evidences-
proclaim her with all certainty to be the King's daughter.
Did
you see the meeting of the two kings?
SECOND GENTLEMAN. No.
THIRD GENTLEMAN. Then you have lost a sight which was to be
seen,
cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy
crown
another, so and in such manner that it seem'd sorrow wept to
take
leave of them; for their joy waded in tears. There was
casting up
of eyes, holding up of hands, with countenance of such
distraction that they were to be known by garment, not by
favour.
Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his
found
daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, cries 'O,
thy
mother, thy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then
embraces
his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter with
clipping
her. Now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by like a
weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard
of
such another encounter, which lames report to follow it and
undoes description to do it.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that
carried
hence the child?
THIRD GENTLEMAN. Like an old tale still, which will have matter
to
rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear open: he was
