Clo. We'll have this fong out anon by ourselves : my father and the gentlemen are in fad talk, and we'll not trouble them: come bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both: pedler, let's have the firft choice; follow me, girls.

Aut. And you fhall pay

well for 'em.

SONG.

Will you buy any tape, or lace for your cape,
My dainty duck, my dear-a?

And filk, and thread, any toys for your head
Of the new'ft, and fin'ft, fin'ft ware-a?
Come to the pedler; money's a medler,
That doth utter all mens ware-a.

[Exit Clown, Autolicus, Dorcas, and Mopfa.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. (27) Mafter, there are three goat-herds, three fhepherds, three neat-herds, and three fwine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair, they call themfelves faltiers: and they have a dance, which the wenches fay is a gallymaufry of gambols, because they are not in't but they themselves are o'th' mind, (if it be not too rough for fome, that know little but bowling,) it will please plentifully.

:

Shep. Away! we'll none on't; here has been too much homely foolery already. I know, Sir, we weary you. Pol. You weary those, that refresh us: 'pray, let's fee thefe four-threes of herdsmen.

Ser. 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' square.

(27) Mafter, there are three carters, three fhepherds, three neat-berds, and three fwine-berds.] Thus all the printed copies hitherto. Now, in two speeches after this, these are call'd four three's of berdfmen. But could the carters properly be call'd berdfmen? at leaft, they have not the final fyllable, berd, in their names; which, I believe, Shakespeare intended, all the four threes fhould have. I have therefore guefs'd that he wrote-Mafter, there are three goat-herds, &c And fo, I think, we take in the four species of cattle usually tended by berdsmen.

Shep.

Shep. Leave your prating; fince thefe good men are pleas'd, let them come in; but quickly now.

Here a dance of twelve Satyrs.

Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.
Is it not too far gone? 'tis time to part them;
He's fimple, and tells much.-How now, fair fhepherd?
Your heart is full of fomething, that does take
Your mind from feafting. Sooth, when I was young,
And handed love, as you do, I was wont

To load my fhe with knacks: I would have ranfack'd
The pedler's filken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance; you have let him
go,
And nothing marted with him. If your lafs
Interpretation fhould abufe, and call this
Your lack of love or bounty; you are ftraited
For a reply, at least, if you make care
Of happy holding her.

Flo. Old Sir, I know,

She prizes not fuch trifles as these are;

The gifts, the looks from me, are packt and lockt
Up in my heart, which I have given already,
But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe. my love
Before this ancient Sir, who, it should feem,
Hath fometime lov'd. I take thy hand, this hand,
As foft as dove's down, and as white as it,
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd fnow

That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er.
Pol. What follows this?

How prettily the young fwain feems to wash
The hand, was fair before! I've put you out;
But, to your proteftation: let me hear

What you profefs.

Flo. Do, and be witnefs to't.

Pol. And this my neighbour too?

Flo. And he, and more

Than he, and men; the earth, and heav'ns, and all; That were I crown'd the most imperial monarch Thereof moft worthy, were I the fairest youth...

That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge

More

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.

Pol. Fairly offer'd.

Cam. This fhews a found affection.

Shep. But my daughter,

Say you the like to him?

Per. I cannot speak

So well, nothing fo well, no, nor mean better.
By th' pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.

Shep. Take hands, a bargain;

And, friends unknown, you fhall bear witnefs to't:
I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.

Flo. 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 thefe witnesses.

Shep. Come, your hand;

And, daughter, yours.

Pol. Sott, fwain, a-while; 'beseech you,

Have you a father?

Flo. I have; but what of him? ·

Pol. Knows he of this?

Flo. He neither does, nor fhall.

Pol. Methinks, a father

Is, at the nuptial of his fon, a guest

That beft 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 fpeak ? hear?
Know man from man? difpute his own eftate?
Lies he not bed-rid? and, again, does nothing,
But what he did being childish?

Flo. No, good Sir;

He has his health, and ampler ftrength, indeed,
Than most have of his age.

Pol

Pol. By my white beard,

You offer him, if this be fo, á wrong:

Something unfilial: Reafon, my fon

Should chufe himself a wife; but as good reafon,
The father (all whofe joy is nothing else

But fair pofterity) fhould hold fome counfel
In fuch a bufinefs.

Flo. I yield all this;

But for fome other reafons, my grave Sir,
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My father of this business.

Pol. Let him know't.
Fle. He fhall not.

Pol. Pr'ythee, let him.

Flo. No; he must not.

Shep. Let him, my fon, he frall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice.

Flo. Come, come, he muft not:

Mark our contract.

Pol. Mark your divorce, young Sir, [Discovering himself. Whom fon I dare not call: thou art too base To be acknowledg'd. Thou a scepter's heir, That thus affect'ft a fheep-hook! Thou old traitor, I'm forry, 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 coap'ft with

Shep. O my heart!

Pol. I'll have thy beauty fcratch'd with briars, and made
More homely than thy ftate. For thee, fond boy,
If I may ever know thou doft but figh

That thou no more fhalt fee this knack, as never
I mean thou fhalt, we'll bar thee from fucceffion;
Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin,
Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words;
Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time,
Tho' full of our displeasure, yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it: and you, enchantment,
Worthy enough a herdfman; yea him too,
That makes himself, but for our honour therein,

Unworthy

Unworthy thee; if ever, henceforth, thou
Thefe rural latches to his entrance open,
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
I will devife a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to it.

Per. Even here undone:

I was not much afraid; for once or twice
I was about to speak, and tell him plainly,
The felf-fame fun, that fhines upon
his court,
Hides not his vifage from our cottage, but

[Exit.

Looks on alike. Wilt please you, Sir, be gone? [To Flor.
I told you, what would come of this. 'Beseech you,
Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,
But milk my ewes, and weep.

Cam. Why, how now, father?

Speak, ere thou dieft.

Shep. I cannot fpeak, nor think,

Nor dare to know that which I know. O Sir, [7. Flor.
You have undone a man of fourscore three,

That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
To die upon the bed my father dy'd,
To lie close by his honeft bones; but now

Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me
Where no prieft fhovels in duft. O curfed wretch!
[To Perdita.
That knew'ft, this was the Prince; and would't adventure
To mingle faith with him. Undone, undone!

If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I defire.

Flo. Why look you .fo. upon me?

I am but forry, not afraid; delay'd,

But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am;

[Exit.

More ftraining on, for plucking back; not following My leafh unwillingly.

Cam. Gracious my Lord,

You know your father's temper: at this time
He will allow no fpeech, (which I do guefs,
You do not purpose to him ;) and as hardly
Will he endure your fight, as yet I fear;

1

Then,