Exeunt.


Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Cleomines and Dion.

  Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre most sweet,
Fertile the Isle, the Temple much surpassing
The common prayse it beares

   Dion. I shall report,
For most it caught me, the Celestiall Habits,
(Me thinkes I so should terme them) and the reuerence
Of the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice,
How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthly
It was i'th' Offring?
  Cleo. But of all, the burst
And the eare-deaff'ning Voyce o'th' Oracle,
Kin to Ioues Thunder, so surpriz'd my Sence,
That I was nothing

   Dio. If th' euent o'th' Iourney
Proue as successefull to the Queene (O be't so)
As it hath beene to vs, rare, pleasant, speedie,
The time is worth the vse on't

   Cleo. Great Apollo
Turne all to th' best: these Proclamations,
So forcing faults vpon Hermione,
I little like

   Dio. The violent carriage of it
Will cleare, or end the Businesse, when the Oracle
(Thus by Apollo's great Diuine seal'd vp)
Shall the Contents discouer: something rare
Euen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horses,
And gracious be the issue.

Exeunt.


Scoena Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers: Hermione (as to her Triall) Ladies:
Cleomines, Dion.

  Leo. This Sessions (to our great griefe we pronounce)
Euen pushes 'gainst our heart. The partie try'd,
The Daughter of a King, our Wife, and one
Of vs too much belou'd. Let vs be clear'd
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
Proceed in Iustice, which shall haue due course,
Euen to the Guilt, or the Purgation:
Produce the Prisoner

   Officer. It is his Highnesse pleasure, that the Queene
Appeare in person, here in Court. Silence

   Leo. Reade the Indictment

   Officer. Hermione, Queene to the worthy Leontes, King
of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of High Treason,
in committing Adultery with Polixenes King of Bohemia,
and conspiring with Camillo to take away the Life of our
Soueraigne
Lord the King, thy Royall Husband: the pretence whereof
being by circumstances partly layd open, thou (Hermione) contrary
to the Faith and Allegeance of a true Subiect, didst counsaile
and ayde them, for their better safetie, to flye away by
Night

   Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that
Which contradicts my Accusation, and
The testimonie on my part, no other
But what comes from my selfe, it shall scarce boot me
To say, Not guiltie: mine Integritie
Being counted Falsehood, shall (as I expresse it)
Be so receiu'd. But thus, if Powres Diuine
Behold our humane Actions (as they doe)
I doubt not then, but Innocence shall make
False Accusation blush, and Tyrannie
Tremble at Patience. You (my Lord) best know
(Whom least will seeme to doe so) my past life
Hath beene as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now vnhappy; which is more
Then Historie can patterne, though deuis'd,
And play'd, to take Spectators. For behold me,
A Fellow of the Royall Bed, which owe
A Moitie of the Throne: a great Kings Daughter,
The Mother to a hopefull Prince, here standing
To prate and talke for Life, and Honor, fore
Who please to come, and heare. For Life, I prize it
As I weigh Griefe (which I would spare:) For Honor,
'Tis a deriuatiue from me to mine,
And onely that I stand for. I appeale
To your owne Conscience (Sir) before Polixenes
Came to your Court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so: Since he came,
With what encounter so vncurrant, I
Haue strayn'd t' appeare thus; if one iot beyond
The bound of Honor, or in act, or will
That way enclining, hardned be the hearts
Of all that heare me, and my neer'st of Kin
Cry fie vpon my Graue

   Leo. I ne're heard yet,
That any of these bolder Vices wanted
Lesse Impudence to gaine-say what they did,
Then to performe it first

   Her. That's true enough,
Though 'tis a saying (Sir) not due to me

   Leo. You will not owne it

   Her. More then Mistresse of,
Which comes to me in name of Fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
(With whom I am accus'd) I doe confesse
I lou'd him, as in Honor he requir'd:
With such a kind of Loue, as might become
A Lady like me; with a Loue, euen such,
So, and no other, as your selfe commanded:
Which, not to haue done, I thinke had been in me
Both Disobedience, and Ingratitude
To you, and toward your Friend, whose Loue had spoke,
Euen since it could speake, from an Infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now for Conspiracie,
I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'd
For me to try how: All I know of it,
Is, that Camillo was an honest man;
And why he left your Court, the Gods themselues
(Wotting no more then I) are ignorant

   Leo. You knew of his departure, as you know
What you haue vnderta'ne to doe in's absence

   Her. Sir,
You speake a Language that I vnderstand not:
My Life stands in the leuell of your Dreames,
Which Ile lay downe

   Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.
You had a Bastard by Polixenes,
And I but dream'd it: As you were past all shame,
(Those of your Fact are so) so past all truth;
Which to deny, concernes more then auailes: for as
Thy Brat hath been cast out, like to it selfe,
No Father owning it (which is indeed
More criminall in thee, then it) so thou
Shalt feele our Iustice; in whose easiest passage,
Looke for no lesse then death

   Her. Sir, spare your Threats:
The Bugge which you would fright me with, I seeke:
To me can Life be no commoditie;
The crowne and comfort of my Life (your Fauor)
I doe giue lost, for I doe feele it gone,
But know not how it went. My second Ioy,
And first Fruits of my body, from his presence
I am bar'd, like one infectious. My third comfort
(Star'd most vnluckily) is from my breast
(The innocent milke in it most innocent mouth)
Hal'd out to murther. My selfe on euery Post
Proclaym'd a Strumpet: With immodest hatred
The Child-bed priuiledge deny'd, which longs
To Women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried
Here, to this place, i'th' open ayre, before
I haue got strength of limit. Now (my Liege)
Tell me what blessings I haue here aliue,
That I should feare to die? Therefore proceed:
But yet heare this: mistake me not: no Life,
(I prize it not a straw) but for mine Honor,
Which I would free: if I shall be condemn'd
Vpon surmizes (all proofes sleeping else,
But what your Iealousies awake) I tell you
'Tis Rigor, and not Law. Your Honors all,
I doe referre me to the Oracle:
Apollo be my Iudge

   Lord. This your request
Is altogether iust: therefore bring forth
(And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle

   Her. The Emperor of Russia was my Father.
Oh that he were aliue, and here beholding
His Daughters Tryall: that he did but see
The flatnesse of my miserie; yet with eyes
Of Pitty, not Reuenge

   Officer. You here shal sweare vpon this Sword of Iustice,
That you (Cleomines and Dion) haue
Been both at Delphos, and from thence haue brought
This seal'd-vp Oracle, by the Hand deliuer'd
Of great Apollo's Priest; and that since then,
You haue not dar'd to breake the holy Seale,
Nor read the Secrets in't

   Cleo. Dio. All this we sweare

   Leo. Breake vp the Seales, and read

   Officer. Hermione is chast, Polixenes blamelesse, Camillo
a true Subiect, Leontes a iealous Tyrant, his innocent Babe
truly begotten, and the King shall liue without an Heire, if that
which is lost, be not found

   Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo

   Her. Praysed

   Leo. Hast thou read truth?
  Offic. I (my Lord) euen so as it is here set downe

   Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle:
The Sessions shall proceed: this is meere falsehood

   Ser. My Lord the King: the King?
  Leo. What is the businesse?
  Ser. O Sir, I shall be hated to report it.
The Prince your Sonne, with meere conceit, and feare
Of the Queenes speed, is gone

   Leo. How? gone?
  Ser. Is dead

   Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heauens themselues
Doe strike at my Iniustice. How now there?
  Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene: Look downe
And see what Death is doing

   Leo. Take her hence:
Her heart is but o're-charg'd: she will recouer.
I haue too much beleeu'd mine owne suspition:
'Beseech you tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life. Apollo pardon
My great prophanenesse 'gainst thine Oracle.
Ile reconcile me to Polixenes,
New woe my Queene, recall the good Camillo
(Whom I proclaime a man of Truth, of Mercy:)
For being transported by my Iealousies
To bloody thoughts, and to reuenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister, to poyson
My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My swift command: though I with Death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done: he (most humane,
And fill'd with Honor) to my Kingly Guest
Vnclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here
(Which you knew great) and to the hazard
Of all Incertainties, himselfe commended,
No richer then his Honor: How he glisters
Through my Rust? and how his Pietie
Do's my deeds make the blacker?
  Paul. Woe the while:
O cut my Lace, least my heart (cracking it)
Breake too

   Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?
  Paul. What studied torments (Tyrant) hast for me?
What Wheeles? Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling?
In Leads, or Oyles? What old, or newer Torture
Must I receiue? whose euery word deserues
To taste of thy most worst. Thy Tyranny
(Together working with thy Iealousies,
Fancies too weake for Boyes, too greene and idle
For Girles of Nine) O thinke what they haue done,
And then run mad indeed: starke-mad: for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betrayed'st Polixenes, 'twas nothing,
(That did but shew thee, of a Foole, inconstant,
And damnable ingratefull:) Nor was't much.
Thou would'st haue poyson'd good Camillo's Honor,
To haue him kill a King: poore Trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to Crowes, thy Baby-daughter,
To be or none, or little; though a Deuill
Would haue shed water out of fire, ere don't;
Nor is't directly layd to thee, the death
Of the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart
That could conceiue a grosse and foolish Sire
Blemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,
Layd to thy answere: but the last: O Lords,
When I haue said, cry woe: the Queene, the Queene,
The sweet'st, deer'st creature's dead: & vengeance for't
Not drop'd downe yet

   Lord. The higher powres forbid

   Pau. I say she's dead: Ile swear't. If word, nor oath
Preuaile not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre in her lip, her eye
Heate outwardly, or breath within, Ile serue you
As I would do the Gods. But, O thou Tyrant,
Do not repent these things, for they are heauier
Then all thy woes can stirre: therefore betake thee
To nothing but dispaire. A thousand knees,
Ten thousand yeares together, naked, fasting,
Vpon a barren Mountaine, and still Winter
In storme perpetuall, could not moue the Gods
To looke that way thou wer't

   Leo. Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speake too much, I haue deseru'd
All tongues to talke their bittrest

   Lord. Say no more;
How ere the businesse goes, you haue made fault
I'th boldnesse of your speech

   Pau. I am sorry for't;
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I haue shew'd too much
The rashnesse of a woman: he is toucht
To th' Noble heart. What's gone, and what's past helpe
Should be past greefe: Do not receiue affliction
At my petition; I beseech you, rather
Let me be punish'd, that haue minded you
Of what you should forget. Now (good my Liege)
Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue a foolish woman:
The loue I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe)
Ile speake of her no more, nor of your Children:
Ile not remember you of my owne Lord,
(Who is lost too:) take your patience to you,
And Ile say nothing

   Leo. Thou didst speake but well,
When most the truth: which I receyue much better,
Then to be pittied of thee. Prethee bring me
To the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne,
One graue shall be for both: Vpon them shall
The causes of their death appeare (vnto
Our shame perpetuall) once a day, Ile visit
The Chappell where they lye, and teares shed there
Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature
Will beare vp with this exercise, so long
I dayly vow to vse it. Come, and leade me
To these sorrowes.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.

  Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vpon
The Desarts of Bohemia

   Mar. I (my Lord) and feare
We haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,
And threaten present blusters. In my conscience
The heauens with that we haue in hand, are angry,
And frowne vpon's

   Ant. Their sacred wil's be done: go get a-boord,
Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long before
I call vpon thee

   Mar. Make your best haste, and go not
Too-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather,
Besides this place is famous for the Creatures
Of prey, that keepe vpon't

   Antig. Go thou away,
Ile follow instantly

   Mar. I am glad at heart
To be so ridde o'th businesse.

Exit

  Ant. Come, poore babe;
I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o'th' dead
May walke againe: if such thing be, thy Mother
Appear'd to me last night: for ne're was dreame
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another,
I neuer saw a vessell of like sorrow
So fill'd, and so becomming: in pure white Robes
Like very sanctity she did approach
My Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,
And (gasping to begin some speech) her eyes
Became two spouts; the furie spent, anon
Did this breake from her. Good Antigonus,
Since Fate (against thy better disposition)
Hath made thy person for the Thrower-out
Of my poore babe, according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babe
Is counted lost for euer, Perdita
I prethee call't: For this vngentle businesse
Put on thee, by my Lord, thou ne're shalt see
Thy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shriekes
She melted into Ayre. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect my selfe, and thought
This was so, and no slumber: Dreames, are toyes,
Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do beleeue
Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that
Apollo would (this being indeede the issue
Of King Polixenes) it should heere be laide
(Either for life, or death) vpon the earth
Of it's right Father. Blossome, speed thee well,
There lye, and there thy charracter: there these,
Which may if Fortune please, both breed thee (pretty)
And still rest thine. The storme beginnes, poore wretch,
That for thy mothers fault, art thus expos'd
To losse, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot,
But my heart bleedes: and most accurst am I
To be by oath enioyn'd to this. Farewell,
The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like to haue
A lullabie too rough: I neuer saw
The heauens so dim, by day. A sauage clamor?
Well may I get a-boord: This is the Chace,
I am gone for euer.

Exit pursued by a Beare.

  Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten and
three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest:
for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wenches
with childe, wronging the Auncientry, stealing,
fighting, hearke you now: would any but these boyldebraines
of nineteene, and two and twenty hunt this weather?
They haue scarr'd away two of my best Sheepe,
which I feare the Wolfe will sooner finde then the Maister;
if any where I haue them, 'tis by the sea-side, brouzing
of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue
we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A
boy, or a Childe I wonder? (A pretty one, a verie prettie
one) sure some Scape; Though I am not bookish, yet I
can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this has
beene some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some
behinde-doore
worke: they were warmer that got this,
then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet
Ile tarry till my sonne come: he hallow'd but euen now.
Whoa-ho-hoa.
Enter Clowne.

  Clo. Hilloa, loa

   Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing to
talke on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither:
what ayl'st thou, man?
  Clo. I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land:
but I am not to say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, betwixt
the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins
point

   Shep. Why boy, how is it?
  Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages,
how it takes vp the shore, but that's not to the point:
Oh, the most pitteous cry of the poore soules, sometimes
to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Shippe boaring
the Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowed
with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a Corke into a hogshead.
And then for the Land-seruice, to see how the
Beare tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cride to mee
for helpe, and said his name was Antigonus, a Nobleman:
But to make an end of the Ship, to see how the Sea flapdragon'd
it: but first, how the poore soules roared, and
the sea mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roared,
and the Beare mock'd him, both roaring lowder
then the sea, or weather

   Shep. Name of mercy, when was this boy?
  Clo. Now, now: I haue not wink'd since I saw these
sights: the men are not yet cold vnder water, nor the
Beare halfe din'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now

   Shep. Would I had bin by, to haue help'd the olde
man

   Clo. I would you had beene by the ship side, to haue
help'd her; there your charity would haue lack'd footing

   Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke thee
heere boy. Now blesse thy selfe: thou met'st with things
dying, I with things new borne. Here's a sight for thee:
Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires childe: looke
thee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open't: so, let's see, it
was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is some
Changeling: open't: what's within, boy?
  Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the sinnes of your
youth are forgiuen you, you're well to liue. Golde, all
Gold

   Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp
with't, keepe it close: home, home, the next way. We
are luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing but
secrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy) the next
way home

   Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go
see if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and how
much he hath eaten: they are neuer curst but when they
are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it

   Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayest discerne by
that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sight
of him

   Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him
i'th' ground

   Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee'l do good deeds
on't.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Time, the Chorus.

  Time. I that please some, try all: both ioy and terror
Of good, and bad: that makes, and vnfolds error,
Now take vpon me (in the name of Time)
To vse my wings: Impute it not a crime
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide
Ore sixteene yeeres, and leaue the growth vntride
Of that wide gap, since it is in my powre
To orethrow Law, and in one selfe-borne howre
To plant, and orewhelme Custome. Let me passe
The same I am, ere ancient'st Order was,
Or what is now receiu'd. I witnesse to
The times that brought them in, so shall I do
To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my Tale
Now seemes to it: your patience this allowing,
I turne my glasse, and giue my Scene such growing
As you had slept betweene: Leontes leauing
Th' effects of his fond iealousies, so greeuing
That he shuts vp himselfe. Imagine me
(Gentle Spectators) that I now may be
In faire Bohemia, and remember well,
I mentioned a sonne o'th' Kings, which Florizell
I now name to you: and with speed so pace
To speake of Perdita, now growne in grace
Equall with wond'ring. What of her insues
I list not prophesie: but let Times newes
Be knowne when 'tis brought forth. A shepherds daughter
And what to her adheres, which followes after,
Is th' argument of Time: of this allow,
If euer you haue spent time worse, ere now:
If neuer, yet that Time himselfe doth say,
He wishes earnestly, you neuer may.
Enter.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Polixenes, and Camillo.

  Pol. I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importunate:
'tis a sicknesse denying thee any thing: a death to
grant this

   Cam. It is fifteene yeeres since I saw my Countrey:
though I haue (for the most part) bin ayred abroad, I desire
to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King
(my Master) hath sent for me, to whose feeling sorrowes
I might be some allay, or I oreweene to thinke so) which
is another spurre to my departure

   Pol. As thou lou'st me (Camillo) wipe not out the rest
of thy seruices, by leauing me now: the neede I haue of
thee, thine owne goodnesse hath made: better not to
haue had thee, then thus to want thee, thou hauing made
me Businesses, (which none (without thee) can sufficiently
manage) must either stay to execute them thy selfe,
or take away with thee the very seruices thou hast done:
which if I haue not enough considered (as too much I
cannot) to bee more thankefull to thee, shall bee my studie,
and my profite therein, the heaping friendshippes.
Of that fatall Countrey Sicillia, prethee speake no more,
whose very naming, punnishes me with the remembrance
of that penitent (as thou calst him) and reconciled King
my brother, whose losse of his most precious Queene &
Children, are euen now to be a-fresh lamented. Say to
me, when saw'st thou the Prince Florizell my son? Kings
are no lesse vnhappy, their issue, not being gracious, then
they are in loosing them, when they haue approued their
Vertues

   Cam. Sir, it is three dayes since I saw the Prince: what
his happier affayres may be, are to me vnknowne: but I
haue (missingly) noted, he is of late much retyred from
Court, and is lesse frequent to his Princely exercises then
formerly he hath appeared

   Pol. I haue considered so much (Camillo) and with
some care, so farre, that I haue eyes vnder my seruice,
which looke vpon his remouednesse: from whom I haue
this Intelligence, that he is seldome from the house of a
most homely shepheard: a man (they say) that from very
nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors,
is growne into an vnspeakable estate

   Cam. I haue heard (sir) of such a man, who hath a
daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended
more, then can be thought to begin from such a cottage
  Pol. That's likewise part of my Intelligence: but (I
feare) the Angle that pluckes our sonne thither. Thou
shalt accompany vs to the place, where we will (not appearing
what we are) haue some question with the shepheard;
from whose simplicity, I thinke it not vneasie to
get the cause of my sonnes resort thether. 'Prethe be my
present partner in this busines, and lay aside the thoughts
of Sicillia

   Cam. I willingly obey your command

   Pol. My best Camillo, we must disguise our selues.

Exit


Scena Tertia.

Enter Autolicus singing

When Daffadils begin to peere,
With heigh the Doxy ouer the dale,
Why then comes in the sweet o'the yeere,
For the red blood raigns in y winters pale.
The white sheete bleaching on the hedge,
With hey the sweet birds, O how they sing:
Doth set my pugging tooth an edge,
For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King.
The Larke, that tirra Lyra chaunts,
With heigh, the Thrush and the Iay:
Are Summer songs for me and my Aunts
While we lye tumbling in the hay.
I haue seru'd Prince Florizell, and in my time wore three
pile, but now I am out of seruice.
But shall I go mourne for that (my deere)
the pale Moone shines by night:
And when I wander here, and there
I then do most go right.
If Tinkers may haue leaue to liue,
and beare the Sow-skin Bowget,
Then my account I well may giue,
and in the Stockes auouch-it.
My Trafficke is sheetes: when the Kite builds, looke to
lesser Linnen. My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who being
(as I am) lytter'd vnder Mercurie, was likewise a
snapper-vp of vnconsidered trifles: With Dye and drab,
I purchas'd this Caparison, and my Reuennew is the silly
Cheate. Gallowes, and Knocke, are too powerfull on
the Highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to mee:
For the life to come, I sleepe out the thought of it. A
prize, a prize.
Enter Clowne.

  Clo. Let me see, euery Leauen-weather toddes, euery
tod yeeldes pound and odde shilling: fifteene hundred
shorne, what comes the wooll too?
  Aut. If the sprindge hold, the Cocke's mine

   Clo. I cannot do't without Compters. Let mee see,
what am I to buy for our Sheepe-shearing-Feast? Three
pound of Sugar, fiue pound of Currence, Rice: What
will this sister of mine do with Rice? But my father hath
made her Mistris of the Feast, and she layes it on. Shee
hath made-me four and twenty Nose-gayes for the shearers
(three-man song-men, all, and very good ones) but
they are most of them Meanes and Bases; but one Puritan
amongst them, and he sings Psalmes to horne-pipes.
I must haue Saffron to colour the Warden Pies, Mace:
Dates, none: that's out of my note: Nutmegges, seuen;
a Race or two of Ginger, but that I may begge: Foure
pound of Prewyns, and as many of Reysons o'th Sun

   Aut. Oh, that euer I was borne

   Clo. I'th' name of me

   Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe mee: plucke but off these
ragges: and then, death, death

   Clo. Alacke poore soule, thou hast need of more rags
to lay on thee, rather then haue these off

   Aut. Oh sir, the loathsomnesse of them offend mee,
more then the stripes I haue receiued, which are mightie
ones and millions

   Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come
to a great matter

   Aut. I am rob'd sir, and beaten: my money, and apparrell
tane from me, and these detestable things put vpon
me

   Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?
  Aut. A footman (sweet sir) a footman

   Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments
he has left with thee: If this bee a horsemans Coate, it
hath seene very hot seruice. Lend me thy hand, Ile helpe
thee. Come, lend me thy hand

   Aut. Oh good sir, tenderly, oh

   Clo. Alas poore soule

   Aut. Oh good sir, softly, good sir: I feare (sir) my
shoulder-blade is out

   Clo. How now? Canst stand?
  Aut. Softly, deere sir: good sir, softly: you ha done
me a charitable office

   Clo. Doest lacke any mony? I haue a little mony for
thee

   Aut. No, good sweet sir: no, I beseech you sir: I haue
a Kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, vnto
whome I was going: I shall there haue money, or anie
thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you, that killes
my heart

   Clow. What manner of Fellow was hee that robb'd
you?
  Aut. A fellow (sir) that I haue knowne to goe about
with Troll-my-dames: I knew him once a seruant of the
Prince: I cannot tell good sir, for which of his Vertues
it was, but hee was certainely Whipt out of the
Court

   Clo. His vices you would say: there's no vertue whipt
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 bene since an Ape-bearer, then a Processe-seruer
(a Bayliffe) then hee compast a Motion of the Prodigall
sonne, and married a Tinkers wife, within a Mile where
my Land and Liuing lyes; and (hauing flowne ouer many
knauish professions) he setled onely in Rogue: some
call him Autolicus

   Clo. Out vpon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts
Wakes, Faires, and Beare-baitings

   Aut. Very true sir: he sir hee: that's the Rogue that
put me into this apparrell

   Clo. Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If
you had but look'd bigge, and spit at him, hee'ld haue
runne

   Aut. I must confesse to you (sir) I am no fighter: I am
false of heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him

   Clo. How do you now?
  Aut. Sweet sir, much better then I was: I can stand,
and walke: I will euen take my leaue of you, & pace softly
towards my Kinsmans

   Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?
  Aut. No, good fac'd sir, no sweet sir

   Clo. Then fartheewell, I must go buy Spices for our
sheepe-shearing.
Enter.

  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