The Winter's Tale (Modern)
Not Peer Reviewed
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[4.3
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Enter Autolycus singing
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When daffodils begin to peer
1670With 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 heigh, the sweet birds, O how they sing!1675Doth set my pugging tooth on edge,¶For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.¶The lark that tirra lirra chants,¶With heigh, with heigh, the thrush and the jay,¶Are summer songs for me and my aunts1680While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?
¶The pale moon shines by night,1685And 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,1690And 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, 1695I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is the silly ¶cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful on ¶the highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to me. ¶For the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. A ¶prize, a prize!
1700
Enter Clown.
¶Clown Let me see, every 'leven wether tods, every ¶tod yields pound and odd shilling. Fifteen hundred ¶shorn, what comes the wool to?
1705Clown I cannot do't without counters. [Taking out a list] Let me see,¶what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three ¶pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice. What ¶will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath ¶made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She 1710hath made me four-and-twenty nosegays for the ¶shearers -- three-man song men, all, and very good ones -- but ¶they are most of them means and basses but one ¶puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. ¶I must have saffron to color the warden pies; mace; 1715dates, 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'th'sun.
¶Clown I'th'name of me --
¶Autolycus O sir, the loathsomeness of them offend me1725more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ¶ones and millions.
¶Autolycus I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and 1730apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put ¶upon me.
¶Clown What, by a horseman or a footman?
¶Autolycus A footman, sweet sir, a footman.
¶Clown Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments 1735he has left with thee. If this be a horseman's coat, it ¶hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand. I'll help ¶thee. Come, lend me thy hand.
[Helps Autolycus to stand]
¶Autolycus Oh, good sir, tenderly, Oh!
¶Clown Alas, poor soul!
¶Clown How now? Canst stand?
¶Autolycus Softly, dear sir! Good sir, softly! [Picking Clown's pocket] You have done ¶me a charitable office.
¶Autolycus 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 1750thing I want. Offer me no money I pray you; that kills ¶my heart.
¶Autolycus A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about 1755with troll-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.
¶Clown His vices you would say. There's no virtue whipped 1760out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay there, ¶and yet it will no more but abide.
¶Autolycus Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well. ¶He hath been since an ape-bearer, then a process-server -- ¶a bailiff. Then he compassed a motion of the prodigal 1765son 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.
¶Clown Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia. If ¶you had but looked big and spit at him, he'd have 1775run.
¶Autolycus I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter. I am ¶false of heart that way, and that he knew, I warrant him.
¶Clown How do you now?
¶Autolycus Sweet sir, much better than I was. I can stand 1780and walk. I will even take my leave of you and pace ¶softly towards my kinsman's.
¶Clown Shall I bring thee on the way?
¶Autolycus No, good-faced sir, no, sweet sir.
Exit.
¶Autolycus Prosper you, sweet sir. Your purse is not hot ¶enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your ¶sheep-shearing too. If I make not this cheat bring out ¶another and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled 1790and my name put in the book of virtue!
[Sings]
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Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,
¶And merrily hent the stile-a;¶A merry heart goes all the day,¶Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Exit
