ble them: Come bring away thy Pack after me. Wenches, both: Pedler let's have the firft Choice;

I'll buy for you

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 Deer-a?

Any Silk, any Thread, any Toys for your Head
Of the new'ft, and fin'st, fin'ft Ware a :
Come to the Pedler, Mony's a medler,
That doth utter all Mens Ware-a.

[Exit Clown, Autolicus, Dorcas, and Mopf.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. Mafter, there are three Carters, three Shepherds, three Neat-herds, and three Swine herds that have made themfelves all Men of Hair, they call themselves Saltiers, and they have a Dance, which the Wenches fay is a Gally-maufry of Gambols, because they are not in't: But they themfelves 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 thofe that refresh us: 'Pray let's fee thefe four-threes of Herdfmen.

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 half by th' square.

Shep. Leave your prating; fince these 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 Shepherd,
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

Το

To load my She 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 were ftraited
For a Reply at least, if you make a Care
Of happy holding her.

Flo. Old Sir, I know

She prizes not fuch Trifles as thefe are;.

The Gifts fhe looks from me, are packt and lockt
Up in my Heart, which I have given already,
But not deliver'd. O hear me breath my Life
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 Ethiopians Tooth, or the fan'd Snow,
That's bolted by th' Northern Blast, twice o'er.
Pol. What follows this?

How prettily the young Swain feems to wash
The Hand, was fair before! I have put you out;
But to your Proteftation: Let me hear

What you profefs.

Flo. Do, and be witness tot.

Pol. And this my Neighbour too?

Flo. And he, and more

Than he, and Men; the Earth, and Heav'ns, and all;

Thereof moft worthy; were I the fairest Youth
That ever made Eye fwerve, had Force and Knowlege
More than was ever Man's, I would not prize them.
Without her Love; for her imploy them all,

That were I crown' Imperial Monarch

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 fpeak.

So well, nothing fo well, no, nor mean better.

VOL. II.

I i

By

By the Pattern of my 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 fhall 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. Soft, Swain, a-while; 'befeech 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 Son, 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 altring Rheums? Can he fpeak? Hear? Know Man from Man? Difpute his own Estate?

Lyes he not Bed-rid? And again, does nothing

But what he did, being Childish?

Flo. No, good Sir;

He has his Health, and ampler Strength indeed
Than most have of his Age.

Pol. By my white Beard,

You offer him, if this be fo, a wrong
Something unfilial: Reafon my Son

Shoud chufe himself a Wife, but as good reason
The Father (all whofe Joy is nothing else
But fair Pofterity) fhould hold fome Counsel
In fuch a Business.

Flo. I yield all this;

But for fome other Reasons, my grave Sir,
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My Father of this Bufinefs.

Pol.

Pol. Let him know't.

Flo. He fhall not.

Pol. Prethee let him.

Fle. No; he must not.

Shep. Let him, my Son, he fhall not need to grieve, At knowing of thy Choice.

Flo. Come, come, he must not :

Mark our Contract..

Pol. Mark your Divorce, young Sir, [Discovering himself. Whom Son I dare not call: Thou art too base

To be acknowledg'd. Thou a Scepter's Heir,

That thus affects a Sheep-hook? Thou old Traytor,
I am forry that by hanging thee, I can

But fhorten thy Life one Week. And thou fresh Piece
Of excellent Witchcraft, who of force must know
The Royal Fool thou coap'ft with.

Shep. Oh my Heart!

Pol. I'll have thy Beauty fcratch'd with Briars, and made
More homely than thy State. 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 shalt, we'll bar thee from Succeffion,
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 Difpleasure, 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 thee; if ever, henceforth, thou
These rural Latches to his entrance open,
Or hope 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 fpeak, and tell him plainly,
The felf-fame Sun that fhines upon his Court,
Hides not his Vifage from our Cottage, but

[Exit.

Looks on alike. Wilt please you, Sir, be gone? [To Flo.

I told

you what would come of this. 'Befeech 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 e'er thou dyeft.

Shep. I cannot fpeak, nor think,

[To Flo:

Nor dare to know that which I know. O Sir,
You have undone a Man of fourscore three,
That thought to fill his Grave in quiet; yea,
To dye upon the Bed my Father dy'd,
To lye close by his honeft Bones; but now
Some Hang-man muft put on my Shroud, and lay me
Where no Prieft fhovels in Duft.

Oh curfed Wretch!

[To Perdita

That knew'it this was the Prince, and wouldft 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;

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 Speech, which I do guess
You do not purpose to him; and as hardly
Will he endure your fight, as yet I fear;
Then, 'till the fury of his Highness settle,
Come not before him.

Flo. I not purpose it.

I think, Camillo.

Cam. Even he, my Lord.

Per. How often have I told you'twould be thus ? How often said, my Dignity would last

But 'till 'twere known?

Flo. It cannot fail, but by

The violation of my Faith, and then

Let Nature crush the fides o' th' Earth together,
And mar the Seeds within. Lift up thy Looks,

[Exit.

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