The Winter's Tale (Folio 1, 1623)
Peer Reviewed
1795
Scena Quarta.
¶
Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Ca-
¶millo, Mopsa, Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.
¶Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you
¶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:
1805(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)
1815Thy Fathers ground.
¶Hath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I tremble
¶To thinke your Father, by some accident
¶Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how
¶Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold
1825Flo. Apprehend
¶Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues
¶(Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken
¶Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune
1830A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God
¶Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine,
¶Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer,
1835Run 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:
¶Or I my life.
¶With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not
1845The 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
¶That you behold the while. Your guests are comming:
¶Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day
¶Of celebration of that nuptiall, which
1855Perd. O Lady Fortune,
¶Stand you auspicious.
¶And let's be red with mirth.
1860Shep. 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,
¶At vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle:
1865On 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
1870These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is
¶A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne.
¶Perd. Sir, welcome:
¶It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee
¶Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs,
¶Seeming, and sauour all the Winter long:
¶Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,
¶And welcome to our Shearing.
1885(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
1890Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors,
¶Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not
¶To get slips of them.
¶Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)
1895Do you neglect them.
¶With great creating-Nature.
¶Pol. Say there be:
1900Yet 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
¶A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke,
1905And 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.
1910Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors,
¶And do not call them bastards.
¶Perd. Ile not put
¶No more then were I painted, I would wish
¶Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you:
¶Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,
¶The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun,
1920Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen
¶To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome.
¶And onely liue by gazing.
¶Perd. Out alas:
¶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
1930Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,
¶For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall
¶That come before the Swallow dares, and take
¶The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim,
1935But 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
1940The 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.
1945Perd. 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
¶Flo. What you do,
¶Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet)
¶I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing,
1955Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres,
¶A waue o'th Sea, that you might euer do
¶And owne no other Function. Each your doing,
1960(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
1965And 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
¶To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray,
¶Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire
¶That neuer meane to part.
¶Too Noble for this place.
¶The Queene of Curds and Creame.
1985Mop. Now in good time.
¶Come, strike vp.
¶
Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and
1990Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this,
¶Which dances with your daughter?
¶To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it
¶Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:
¶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,
2000Who loues another best.
¶Pol. She dances featly.
2005Which he not dreames of.
Enter Seruant.
¶doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and
¶Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singes
2010them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to
¶his Tunes.
¶I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter
2015sung lamentably.
2020do's and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where
¶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
2025harme good man.
¶Pol. This is a braue fellow.
¶ceited fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares?
¶Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Raine-
2030bow; Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can
¶ging.
¶in's tunes.
¶them, then youl'd thinke (Sister.)
¶Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke.
¶
Enter Autolicus singing.
¶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.
2060come 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
2065againe.
¶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?
2070be 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 tawdry-
¶lace, and a paire of sweet Gloues.
¶Clo. Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the
2075way, and lost all my money.
¶Aut. And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, ther-
¶fore it behooues men to be wary.
2080of charge.
¶life, for then we are sure they are true.
2085rers 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..
¶Why should I carry lyes abroad?
¶Mop. 'Pray you now buy it.
¶lads: Wee'l buy the other things anon.
2100the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a Wo-
¶change flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very
¶pittifull, and as true.
¶Dor. Is it true too, thinke you.
¶then my packe will hold.
¶Clo. Lay it by too; another.
¶Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
¶shalt heare, 'tis in three parts.
2115Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe.
¶cupation: Haue at it with you:
¶
SongGet you hence, for I must goe
¶Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My
2135Father, 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?
2140 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
¶herds, three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made
¶and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gal-
¶ly-maufrey of Gambols, because they are not in't: but
2150they themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too rough
¶plentifully.
¶Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too
¶much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wea-
2155rie you.
¶Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,)
¶hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of the
2160three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire.
¶pleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now.
¶
Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.
2165Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter:
¶Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them,
¶Your heart is full of something, that do's take
¶Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong,
2170And handed loue, as you do; I was wont
¶To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt
¶To her acceptance: you haue let him go,
¶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
¶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
2185Hath 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?
¶The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out,
¶But to your protestation: Let me heare
2195Pol. 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
2200That 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.
2205Pol. Fairely offer'd.
¶Shep. But my daughter,
¶Say you the like to him.
2210So 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;
2215I giue my daughter to him, and will make
¶Her Portion, equall his.
¶I'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead,
¶I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet,
2220Enough then for your wonder: but come-on,
¶Shep. Come, your hand:
¶And daughter, yours.
2225Haue you a Father?
¶Flo. I haue: but what of him?
¶Pol. Knowes he of this?
¶Pol. Me-thinkes a Father,
¶That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more
¶Is not your Father growne incapeable
¶With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare?
¶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
2240Then most haue of his age.
¶Pol. By my white beard,
¶You offer him (if this be so) a wrong
¶Flo. I yeeld all this;
2250Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
¶Pol. Let him know't.
¶Pol. Prethee let him.
¶At knowing of thy choice.
¶Marke our Contract.
¶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
¶Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must know
¶The royall Foole thou coap'st with.
¶Shep. Oh my heart.
2270More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy)
¶Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin,
2275Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words)
¶Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time
¶From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment,
¶Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too,
2280That 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
2285As thou art tender to't.
Exit.
¶Perd. Euen heere vndone:
¶I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice
¶I was about to speake, and tell him plainely,
2290Hides 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,
2295But milke my Ewes, and weepe.
¶Cam. Why how now Father,
¶Speake ere thou dyest.
¶Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir,
2300You 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 mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone:
¶If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd
¶To die when I desire.
Exit.
¶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.
2315Cam. Gracious my Lord,
¶You know my Fathers temper: at this time
¶You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly
¶Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare;
¶Come not before him.
¶I thinke Camillo.
¶Cam. Euen he, my Lord.
2325Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus?
¶But till 'twer knowne?
¶Flo. It cannot faile, but by
¶The violation of my faith, and then
¶And marre the seeds within. Lift vp thy lookes:
¶Am heyre to my affection.
¶Cam. Be aduis'd.
¶Will thereto be obedient: I haue reason:
¶Do bid it welcome.
2340Flo. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow:
¶Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may
¶Be thereat gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or
2345In vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oath
¶To this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you,
¶As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend,
¶Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
¶And so deliuer, I am put to Sea
¶With her, who heere I cannot hold on shore:
¶And most opportune to her neede, I haue
¶Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
¶Concerne me the reporting.
¶Cam. O my Lord,
¶Or stronger for your neede.
¶Flo. Hearke Perdita,
¶Ile heare you by and by.
¶Cam. Hee's irremoueable,
2365Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if
¶His going, I could frame to serue my turne,
¶Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor,
¶And that vnhappy King, my Master, whom
¶Flo. Now good Camillo,
¶I leaue out ceremony.
¶Cam. Sir, I thinke
2375You haue heard of my poore seruices, i'th loue
¶That I haue borne your Father?
¶Flo. Very nobly
¶To speake your deeds: not little of his care
2380To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on.
¶Cam. Well (my Lord)
¶If you may please to thinke I loue the King,
¶And through him, what's neerest to him, which is
¶Your gracious selfe; embrace but my direction,
2385If your more ponderous and setled proiect
¶May suffer alteration. On mine honor,
2390There's no disiunction to be made, but by
¶(As heauens forefend) your ruine: Marry her,
¶And bring him vp to liking.
2395Flo. How Camillo
¶May this (almost a miracle) be done?
¶That I may call thee something more then man,
¶And after that trust to thee.
¶Cam. Haue you thought on
2400A place whereto you'l go?
¶Flo. Not any yet:
¶But as th' vnthought-on accident is guiltie
2405Of euery winde that blowes.
¶This followes, if you will not change your purpose
¶But vndergo this flight: make for Sicillia,
¶She shall be habited, as it becomes
¶The partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I see
¶Leontes opening his free Armes, and weeping
¶He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
¶Faster then Thought, or Time.
2420Flo. Worthy Camillo,
¶Hold vp before him?
¶Cam. Sent by the King your Father
¶To greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir,
2425The manner of your bearing towards him, with
¶What you (as from your Father) shall deliuer,
¶Things knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe,
2430But that you haue your Fathers Bosome there,
¶And speake his very Heart.
¶Flo. I am bound to you:
2435Then a wild dedication of your selues
¶To vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; most certaine,
¶To Miseries enough: no hope to helpe you,
¶But as you shake off one, to take another:
¶Nothing so certaine, as your Anchors, who
¶Where you'le be loth to be: besides you know,
¶Prosperitie's the very bond of Loue,
¶Affliction alters.
¶I thinke Affliction may subdue the Cheeke,
¶But not take-in the Mind.
2450Be borne another such.
¶Flo. My good Camillo,
¶She's as forward, of her Breeding, as
¶She is i'th' reare' our Birth.
¶To most that teach.
¶Perd. Your pardon Sir, for this,
¶Ile blush you Thanks.
2460But O, the Thornes we stand vpon: (Camillo)
¶Preseruer of my Father, now of me,
¶We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's Sonne,
¶Nor shall appeare in Sicilia.
2465Cam. My Lord,
¶Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes
¶To haue you royally appointed, as if
¶The Scene you play, were mine. For instance Sir,
2470That you may know you shall not want: one word.
¶
Enter Autolicus.
¶Aut. Ha, ha, what a Foole Honestie is? and Trust (his
¶all my Tromperie: not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon,
¶Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe
¶as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought a be-
¶Wenches Song, that hee would not stirre his Petty-toes,
2485of the Heard to me, that all their other Sences stucke in
¶Eares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was sence-
¶would haue fill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes: no
¶hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring the
2490Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I pickd
¶old-man come in with a Whoo-bub against his Daugh-
¶ter, and the Kings Sonne, and scar'd my Chowghes from
¶the Chaffe, I had not left a Purse aliue in the whole
2495Army.
¶Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being there
2500Perd. Happy be you:
¶Cam. Who haue we here?
¶Wee'le make an Instrument of this: omit
¶Nothing may giue vs aide.
2505Aut. If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging.
¶Cam. How now (good Fellow)
¶Here's no harme intended to thee.
¶Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir.
¶with this Gentleman: Though the penny-worth (on his
¶Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well
¶enough.)
¶fled already.
¶conscience take it.
¶Cam. Vnbuckle, vnbuckle.
¶And pluck it ore your Browes, muffle your face,
¶Dis-mantle you, and (as you can) disliken
2530The truth of your owne seeming, that you may
¶(For I doe feare eyes ouer) to Ship-boord
¶Get vndescry'd.
¶That I must beare a part.
2535Cam. No remedie:
¶Haue you done there?
¶Flo. Should I now meet my Father,
¶He would not call me Sonne.
2540Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)
¶Aut. Adieu, Sir.
¶Flo. O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot?
¶'Pray you a word.
2545Of this escape, and whither they are bound;
¶To force him after: in whose company
¶I haue a Womans Longing.
¶Aut. I vnderstand the businesse, I heare it: to haue an
¶worke for th' other Sences. I see this is the time that the
¶vniust man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been,
¶without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange?
¶Sure the Gods doe this yeere conniue at vs, and we may
2560doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about
¶a peece of Iniquitie (stealing away from his Father, with
¶his Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peece of ho-
¶nestie to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: I
¶hold it the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein am
¶
Enter Clowne and Shepheard.
¶a carefull man worke.
¶other way, but to tell the King she's a Changeling, and
¶none of your flesh and blood.
¶Shep. Nay, but heare me.
¶Clow. Nay; but heare me.
2575Shep. Goe too then.
2580what she ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law goe
¶whistle: I warrant you.
¶Shep. I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and his
¶neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make me
2585the Kings Brother in Law.
¶could haue beene to him, and then your Blood had beene
¶the dearer, by I know how much an ounce.
2590Shep. Well: let vs to the King: there is that in this
¶Farthell, will make him scratch his Beard.
¶Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaint
¶may be to the flight of my Master.
¶Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at' Pallace.
¶times by chance: Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excre-
¶ment. How now (Rustiques) whither are you bound?
¶Aut. Your Affaires there? what? with whom? the
2600Condition of that Farthell? the place of your dwelling?
¶your names? your ages? of what hauing? breeding, and
¶any thing that is fitting to be knowne, discouer?
¶Clo. We are but plaine fellowes, Sir.
¶Aut. A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haue
2605no lying; it becomes none but Trades-men, and they of-
¶ten giue vs (Souldiers) the Lye, but wee pay them for it
¶doe not giue vs the Lye.
2610you had not taken your selfe with the manner.
¶Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir?
¶thou not the ayre of the Court, in these enfoldings? Hath
¶not my gate in it, the measure of the Court? Receiues not
2615thy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy
¶fore no Courtier? I am Courtier Cap-a-pe; and one that
2620whereupon I command thee to open thy Affaire.
¶Shep. I know not (and't like you.)
2625you haue none.
¶Shep. None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen.
¶Yet Nature might haue made me as these are,
¶Therefore I will not disdaine.
2630Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier.
¶Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them not
¶handsomely.
¶sticall: A great man, Ile warrant; I know by the picking
2635on's Teeth.
¶Aut. The Farthell there? What's i'th' Farthell?
¶Wherefore that Box?
¶Box, which none must know but the King, and which hee
¶of him.
¶Shep. Why Sir?
¶Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboord
2645a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himselfe: for
¶the King is full of griefe.
¶haue marryed a Shepheards Daughter.
¶will breake the back of Man, the heart of Monster.
2655heauie, and Vengeance bitter; but those that are Iermaine
¶to him (though remou'd fiftie times) shall all come vnder
¶the Hang-man: which, though it be great pitty, yet it is
¶der, to offer to haue his Daughter come into grace? Some
¶(say I:) Draw our Throne into a Sheep-Coat? all deaths
¶Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare)
¶and't like you, Sir?
¶then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or some other hot
¶(the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye vpon him;
¶where hee is to behold him, with Flyes blown to death.)
¶bring you where he is aboord, tender your persons to his
¶man, besides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man
2680shall doe it.
¶him, giue him Gold; and though Authoritie be a stub-
¶borne Beare, yet hee is oft led by the Nose with Gold:
2685hand, and no more adoe. Remember ston'd, and flay'd
¶aliue.
¶for vs, here is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as much
¶more, and leaue this young man in pawne, till I bring it
2690you.
¶Shep. I Sir.
¶Aut. Well, giue me the Moitie: Are you a partie in
¶tifull one, I hope I shall not be flayd out of it.
¶hang him, hee'le be made an example.
¶will giue you as much as this old man do's, when the Bu-
¶till it be brought you.
¶side, goe on the right hand, I will but looke vpon the
¶Hedge, and follow you.
¶bless'd.
2710Shep. Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided to
¶doe vs good.
¶courted now with a double occasion: (Gold, and a means
2715to doe the Prince my Master good; which, who knowes
¶how that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I will
¶he thinke it fit to shoare them againe, and that the Com-
¶plaint they haue to the King, concernes him nothing, let
2720him call me Rogue, for being so farre officious, for I am
¶to't: To him will I present them, there may be matter in
¶it.
Exeunt.
