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I told her so, my lord,

On your displeasure's peril, and on mine, She should not visit you.

Leon.

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I'll have thee burn'd.

It is an heretic, that makes the fire,

I care not:

Not she, which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant;

What, canst not rule her? But this most cruel usage of your queen

Paul. From all dishonesty, he can in this, (Unless he take the course that you have done,

Commit me, for committing honour,) trust it, He shall not rule me.

Ant.

Lo you now; you hear!

When she will take the rein, I let her run;
But she'll not stumble.
Paul.

Good my liege, I come,

And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess
Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
Your most obedient counsellor yet that dare
Less appear so, in comforting your evils,

Than such as most seem yours: I say, I come

From your good queen.

Leon.

(Not able to produce more accusation

Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,) something savours
Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,
Yea, scandalous to the world.

Leon.

On your allegiance, Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her.

Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jovesend her A better guiding spirit! What need these hands!You that are thus so tender o'er his follies,

Will never do him good, not one of you.

So, so:-Farewell; we are gone.

Good queen!

[Exit.

Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.

Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen: I say, My child? away with't!-even thou, that hast good queen:

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A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence,

And see it instantly consum'd with tire;

Even thou, and noue but thou. Take it up straight: Within this hour bring me word 'tis done,

(And by good testimony,) or I'll seize thy life, With what thou else call'st thine: If thou refuse, And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;

The bastard brains with these my proper hands
Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;
For thou sett'st on thy wife.

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We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech
So to esteem of us: and on our knees we beg,
(As recompense of our dear services,

Past, and to come,) that you do change this purpose;
Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must
Lead on to some foul issue: We all kneel.

Leon. I am a feather for each wind that blows;

Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel
And call me father? Better burn it now
Than curse it then. But be it; let it live:
It shall not neither. You, sir, come you hither;

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Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not And nobleness impose at least, thus much;

Paul.

Nor I; nor any,

The sacred honour of himself, his queen's,

His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander,

(For, as the case now stands, it is a curse

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He cannot be compell'd to't,) once remove

The root of his opinion, which is rotten,

As ever oak, or stone, was sound.

Leon.

A callat,

Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her husband,

And now baits me! This brat is none of mine;

It is the issue of Polixenes:

Hence with it; and, together with the dam,

Commit them to the fire.

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And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father eye, nose, lip,

The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; cheek; his smiles; smiles, The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger; And thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it

Thou wilt perform my bidding.

I will, my lord.

Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou ?) for the

[fail

Of any point in't shall not only be
Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife;
Whom, for this time, we pardon. We enjoin thee,
As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry
This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it
To some remote and desert place, quite out
Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it,
Without more mercy, to its own protection,
And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune
It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,-
On thy soul's peril, and thy body's torture,-
That thou commend it strangely to some place,
Where chance may nurse, or end it: Take it up.

Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe: Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, To be thy nurses! Wolves, and bears, they say, Casting their savageness aside, have done Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous In more than this deed doth require! and blessing, Against this cruelty, fight on thy side, Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! [Exit, with the Child. No, I'll not rear

Leon.

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nounce,)

pro

Even pushes 'gainst our heart: The party tried,
The daughter of a king; our wife; and one
Of us too much belov'd.-Let us be clear'd
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
Proceed in justice; which shall have due course,
Even to the guilt, or the purgation.-
Produce the prisoner.

Offi. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen Appear in person here in court. Silence !

Hermione is brought in guarded; Paulina and Ladies attending.

Leon. Read the indictment.

Offi. Hermione, queen 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 sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband; the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.

Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that

Which contradicts my accusation; and
The testimony on my part, no other
But what comes from myself; it shall scarce boot me
To say, Not guilty wine integrity,
Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
Be so receiv'd. But thus, If powers divine
Behold our human actions, (as they do,)
I doubt no: then, but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know,
(Who least will eem to do so,) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devis'd,

A fellow of the royal bed, which owe

A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince, -here standing
To prate and talk for life, and honour, 'fore

Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare for honour, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine,

And only that I stand for. I appeal

To your own 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 uncurrent I

Have strain'd, to appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honour; or, in act, or will,
That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
Cry, Fie upon my grave!

Leon.

I ne'er heard yet,

That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did, Than to perform it first.

Her.

That's true enough;

Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.

Leon. You will not own it.
Her.

More than mistress of,

Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,

(With whom I am accus'd,)

I do confess,

I lov'd him, as in honour he requir'd;
With such a kind of love, as might become
A lady like me; with a love, even such,
So, and no other, as yourself commanded:
Which not to have done, I think, had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude,
[spoke,
To you, and toward your friend; whose love had
Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,
I know not how it tastes; though it i be dish'd
For me to try how: all 1 know of it,

Is, that Camillo was an honest man;
an;
And why he left your court, the gods themselves,
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know What you have underta'en to do in his absence. Her. Sir,

You speak a language that I understand not:
My life stands in the level of your dreams,
Which I'll lay down.

Leon.

Your actions are my dreams;

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, concerns more than avails:
For as

Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
No father owning it, (which is, indeed,
More criminal in thee, than it,) so thou

Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage,

Look for no less than death,

Her.

Sir, spare your threats: The bug, which you would fright me with, I seek. To me can life be no commodity:

The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,
I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
But know not how it went: My second joy,
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence,
I am barr'd, like one infections: My third comfort,
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murder Myself on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet; With immodest hatred
To child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
To women of all fashion-Lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i'the open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,

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What is the business?

Serv. O sir, I shall be hated to report it:

The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
Of the queen's speed, is gone.

Leon.

Serv.

How! gone!

Is dead.

Leon. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice. [Hermione faints. How now there?

Paul. This news is mortal to the queen:-Look And see what death is doing.

Leon.

[down,

Take her hence: Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover.I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion:'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life. - Apollo, pardon

Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine!-O, think, what they have done,
And then run mad, indeed; stark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing:
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,
And damnable ungrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would'st have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by whereof I reckon
daughter,

The casting forth to crows thy baby daug

To be or none, or little; though a devil
Would have shed water out of fire, ere done't:
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
Of the young prince; whose honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender,) cleft the heart
That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: But the last,-O, lords,
When I have said, cry, woe!-the queen, the queen,
The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and ven-
Not dropped down yet.
[geance for't
1 Lord.
The higher powers forbid!
Paul. I say, she's dead; I'll swear't: if word, nor
[oath,

Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eve,
Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you
As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees,
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.
Leon.

Go on, go on:

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.

1 Lord.

Say no more;

Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I'the boldness of your speech.

Paul.

I am sorry for't;

All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much
The rashness of a woman he is touch'd

[help,

To the noble heart.- What's gone, and what's past
Should be past grief: Do not receive affliction
At my petition, I beseech you; rather
Let me be punish'd, that have minded you
Of what you should forget. Now, good ny liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
The love I bore your queen,-lo, fool again!-
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember you of my own lord,
Who is lost toe: Take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.

Leon.
Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth; which I receive much better

Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me

[Exeunt Paulina and Ladies, with Herm. To the dead bodies of my queen, and son:

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New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo;
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy:

For, being transported by my jealousies

bloody and to re evenge, I chose

Camillo for the minister, to poison
My friend Polixenes; which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo ta died
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 honour, to my kingly guest
Unclasp'd my practice; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended,

No richer than his honour: How he glisters
Thorough my rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker!

Paul.

Re-enter Paulina.

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We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly,
And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry,
And frown upon us.

Ant. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get aboard;

Woe the while! Look to thy bark; I'll not be long; before

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Ant.

roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder

Come, poor babe:
I have heard, (but not believ'd,) the spirits of the dead than the sea, or weather.
May walk again if such thing be, thy mother

Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another;
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,

So fill'd, and so becoming in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me;
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her: Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,-
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,

I pr'ythee, call't; for this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more:-and so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself; and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do believe,
Hermione hath suffer'd death; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid,
Either for life, or death, upon the earth
Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well!

[Laying down the Child.

There lie; and there thy character: there these;

Shep. 'Name of mercy, when was this, boy? Clo. Now, now I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman; he's at it

now.

Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped the old man! Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her; there your charity would have lacked footing. [Aside.

a

Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying, I with things new born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for squire's child! Look thee here; take up, take up, 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 made old man if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!

Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with it, keep it close; home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so still, requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go:-Come, good boy, the next way home.

Clo. Go you the next way with your findings; I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten they are never curst, but when they are hungry; if there be any of him left, I'll bury it.

Shep. That's a good deed: If thou mayst discern [Laying down the Bundle, by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to

Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty,
And still rest thine. The storm begins:-Poor wretch,
That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd
To loss, and what may follow -Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds: and most accurs'd am I,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell!
The day ay frowns more and more; thou art like to have
A lullaby too rough: I never saw

The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour?-
Well may I get aboard! This is the chace;

I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a Bear.

Enter an old Shepherd.

Shep. I would, there were no age between ten and three and twenty; or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting. Hark you now! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen, and two and twenty, hunt this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep; which, I fear, the wolf will sooner find, than the master if any where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browzing on ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [Taking up the Child.] Mercy on's, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy, or a child, I wonder? A pretty one;

a

very pretty one:

can

the sight of him.

Clo. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i'the ground. Shep. "Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Enter Time, as Chorus.

Time. I, that please some, try all; both joy, and
terror,

Of good and bad; that make, and unfold error,
Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime,
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide
O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried
Of that wide gap; since it is in my power
To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour
To plant and o'erwhelm custom: Let me pass
The same I am, ere ancient'st order was,
Or what is now receiv'd: I witness to
The times that brought them in; so shall I do
To the freshest things now reigning; and make stale
The glistening of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,

As you had slept between. Leontes leaving
The effects of his fond jealousies; so grieving,
That he shuts up himself; imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now ma may be
In fair Bohemia; and remember well,

Sure, some though I am not bookish, I I turn my glass; and give my scene such growing, read waiting-gentle woman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this, than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hollaed but even Whoa, ho hoa!

now.

Clo. Hilloa, loa!

Enter Clown.

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Shep. What, art so near? talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man?

Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea, and by land; but I am not to say, it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

Shep. Why, boy, how is it?

Clo. I would, you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the point! O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast: and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service, To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said, his name was Antigonus, a nobleman: But to make an end of the ship:-to see how the sea flap-dragoned it:-but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman

I mention'd a son o'the king's, which Florizel
I now name to you; and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wond'ring: What of her ensues,
I list not prophesy; but let Time's news [daughter,
Be known, when 'tis brought forth-a shepherd's
And what to her adheres, which follows after,

Is the argument of time: Of this allow,

If ever you have spent time worse ere now;
If never yet, that Time himself doth say,
He wishes earnestly, you never may.

The same.

SCENE 1.

[Exit.

A Room in the Palace of Polixenes. Enter Polixenes and Camillo.

Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate; 'tis a sickness denying thee any thing; a death to grant this.

Cam. It is fifteen years, since I saw my country: though I have, for the most part, been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent king, my master, hath sent for me to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to think so; which is another spur to my departure.

Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of thy services, by leaving me now: the need I have of thee, thine own goodness hath made; better not to have had thee, than thus to want thee: thou, having made me businesses, which none without thee can sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute them thyself, or take away with thee the very services thou hast done which, if I have not enough considered, (as too much I cannot,) to be more thank ful to thee, shall be my study; and my profit therein, the heaping friendships. Of that country Sicilia, pr'ythee speak no more: whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thon call'st him, and reconciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen, and children, are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the prince Florizel my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them, when they have approved

their virtues,

Cam. Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince: What his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I have, missingly, noted, he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises, than formerly he hath appeared.

Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo; and with some care; so far, that I have eyes under my service, which look upon his removedness: from whom I have this intelligence; That he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable

estate.

Cam. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended more, than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.

Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence. But I fear the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the place where we will, not appearing what we are, have some question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity, I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Pr'ythee, be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.

Cam. I willingly obey your command.
Pol. My best Camillo! We must disguise our-

selves.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

The same. A Road near the Shepherd's Cottage.
Enter Autolycus, singing.
When daffodils begin to peer,
begin

With heigh! the doxy over the dale, -
Why, then comes in the sweet o'the year;

For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,

With, hey! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;

For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

The lark, that tirra-lirra chants,

Clo. I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what I am to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of suga sugar; five pound of currants; riceWhat will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the shearers: three-man songmen all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases: but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. 1 must have saffron, to colour the warden pies; mace,-dates, none; that's out of my note nutmegs, seven; a race, or two, of ginger; but that I may beg; -four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o'the sun. Aut. O, that ever I was born!

[Grovelling on the Ground.

Clo. I'the name of me,

Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death!

Clo. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.

Aut. O, sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received; which are mighty ones and millions.

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

Aut. I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man.
Aut. A foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man.

Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the garments he has left with thee; if this be a horse-man's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand.

Aut. O! good sir, tenderly, oh!
Clo. Alas, poor soul.

[Helping him up.

Aut. O, good sir, softly, good sir: I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out.

Clo. How now? canst stand?

Aut. Softly, dear sir; [Picks his Pocket.] good sir, softly you ha' done me a charitable office. Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

Aut. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want Offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart.

Clo. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you ?

Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames: I knew him once a servant of the prince; I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.

Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish it, to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide. Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a pro

With, hey! with, hey! the thrush and the jay: cess-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of Are summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lie tumbling in the hay.

I have served prince Florizel, and, in my time, wore
three-pile; but now I am out of service:

But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?
The pale moon shines by night:
And when I wander here and there,
I then do most go right.

If tinkers may have leave to live,
And bear the sow-skin budget.;
Then my account I well may give,
And in the stocks avouch it.

My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to
lesser linen. My father named me, Autolycus; who,
being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise
a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles: With die, and
drab, I purchased this caparison; and my revenue is
the silly cheat: Gallows, and knock, are too power-
ful on the highway: beating, and hanging, are ter-
rors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the
thought of it.-A prize! a prize!

Enter Clown. Clo. Let me see: -Every 'leven wether-tods; yields-pound and odd hundred shorn, Whate shilling: fifteen That comes the wool to?

tod

the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.

Clo. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.

Aut. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue, that put me into this apparel.

Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but looked big, and spit at him, he'd

have run.

Aut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him.

Clo. How do you now?

Aut. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand, and walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's. Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?

Aut. No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.

Clo. Then fare thee well; I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.

Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir!-[Exit Clown.] Your be with you at your sheep-shearing too: purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice I'll If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my name put in

Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. [Aside. the book of virtue!

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