That makes her Blood look on't: Good footh fhe is
The Queen of Curds and Cream.

Clo. Come on, ftrike up.

Dor. Mopfa must be your Mistress; marry Garlick to mend her kiffing with.

Mop. Now in good time.

Clo. Not a word, a word, we ftand upon our Manners, Come strike up.

Here a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdeffes.

Pol. Pray, good Shepherd, what fair Swain is this Which Dances with your Daughter?

Shep. They call him Doricles, and he boafts himself To have a worthy Feeding; but I have it

Upon his own Report, and I believe it:

He looks like footh; he fays he loves my Daughter,
I think fo too; for never gaz'd the Moon
Upon the Water, as he'll ftand and read

As 'twere my Daughter's Eyes: And, to be plain,
I think there is not half a Kifs to chufe
Who loves another beft.

Pol. She Dances featly.

Shep. So he does any thing, tho' I report it
That should be filent; if young Doricles
Do light upon her, the hall bring him that
Which he not dreams of

Enter a Servant.

Ser. O Mafter, if you did but hear the Pedler at the Door, you would never Dance again after a Tabor and Pipe: No, the Bag-pipe could not move you; he fings several Tunes fafter than you'll tell Mony; he utters them as he had eaten Ballads, and all Mens Ears grew to his

Tunes.

Clo. He could never come better; he fhall come in ; I love a Ballad but even too well, if it be doleful Matter merrily fet down; or a very pleasant thing indeed, and fung lamentably.

Ser. He hath Songs for Man or Woman of all Sizes; no Milliner can fo fit his Cuftomers with Gloves: He has the prettieft Love-fongs for Maids, fo without Bawdry, (which is ftrange) with fuch delicate burthens of Dildos

and

and Fadings: Jump her and thump her; and where fome ftretch-mouth'd Rafcal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the Maid to anfwer, Whoop, do me no harm, good Man; puts him off, flights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, good Man.

Pol. This is a brave Fellow.

Clo. Believe me, thou talkeft of an admirable conceited Fellow, has he any unbraided Wares?

Ser. He hath Ribbons of all the Colours i'th' Rainbow; Points, more than all the Lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, tho' they come to him by the grofs: Inkles, Caddiffes, Cambricks, Lawns; why he fings 'em over, as they were Gods or Goddeffes; you would think a Smock were a She Angel, he fo chants to the Sleeve-hand, and the work about the Square on't.

Clo. Prethee bring him in, and let him approach finging.

Per. Forewarn him that he ufe no fcurrillous Words in's Tunes.

Clo. You have of thefe Pedlers, that have more in them, than you'ld think, Sifter.

Per. Ay, good Brother, or go about to think.

Enter Autolicus finging.

Lawn as white as driven Snow,
Cypress black as c'er was Crow;
Gloves as sweet as Damask Rofes,
Masks for Faces, and for Nofes;
Bugle-Bracelets, Neck-lace Amber,
Perfume for a Lady's Chamber
Golden Quoifs, and Stomachers,
Lads to give their Dears:

For

my

Pins, and poaking Sticks of Steel,

What Maids lack from Head to Heel:

Come buy of me, come: Come buy, come buy,

Buy Lads, or else your Laffes cry: Come buy.

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopfa, thou should'st take no Mony of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will alfo be the Bondage of certain Ribbons and Gloves.

Mop.

Mop. I was promis'd them againft the Feaft, but they come not too late now.

Dor. He hath promis'd you more than that, or there be Liars.

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be he has paid you more, which will thame you to give him again.

Clo. Is there no Manners left among Maids? Will they wear their Plackets, where they fhould bear their Faces? Is there not Milking-time? when you are going to bed? or kill-hole to whiftle of thefe Secrets; but you must be tittle-tatling before all our Guefts; 'tis well they are whispring Clamour your Tongues, and not a word more.

Mop. I have done: Come, you promis'd me a tawdry Lace, and a pair of fweet Gloves.

Clo. Have I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and loft all my Mony?

Aut. And indeed, Sir, there fare Cozeners abroad, therefore it behoves Men to be wary.

Clo. Fear not thou, Man, thou fhalt lofe nothing here. Aut. I hope fo, Sir, for I have about me many Parcels of Charge.

Clo. What haft here? Ballads ?

Mop. Pray now buy fome, I love a Ballad in Print, a Life, for then we are fure they are true.

Aut. Here's one to a very doleful Tune, how a Ufurer's Wife was brought to bed with twenty Mony Bags at a Burthen, and how the long'd to eat Adder's Heads, and Toads Carbonado'd.

Mop. Is it true, think you?

Aut. Very true, and but a month old.

Dor. Blefs me from marrying a Ufurer.

Aut. Here's the Midwife's name to't; one Miftrefs TalePorter, and five or fix honeft Wives that were present. Why fhould I carry Lyes abroad?

Mop. 'Pray you now buy it.

Clo. Come on, lay it by; and let's first fee moe Ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.

Aut. Here's another Ballad of a Fish, that appear'd upon the Coaft, on Wednesday the fourfcore of April, forty thou

fand

fand Fadem above Water, and fung this Ballad against the hard Hearts of Maids; it was thought he was a Woman, and was turn'd into a cold Fish, for he would not exchange Flesh with one that lov'd her: The Ballad is very pitiful, and as true.

Dor. Is it true too, think you?

Aut. Five Juftices hands at it; and Witnesses more than my Pack will hold.

Clo. Lay it by too: Another.

Aut. This is a merry Ballad, but a very pretty one.
Mop. Let's have some merry ones.

Aut. Why this is a paffing merry one, and goes to the tune of two Maids wooing a Man; there's fcarce a Maid Weftward but she fings it: 'Tis in Requeft, I can tell you. Mop. We can both fing it; if thou'lt bear a part, thoa fhalt hear, 'tis in three parts.

Dor. We had the Tune on't a Month a-go.

Aut. I can bear my part, you must know 'tis my occu pation: Have at it with you.

SONG.

Aut. Get you hence, for I must go,

Where fits not you to know.

Dor. Whither?

Mop. O whither ?

Dor. Whither?

Mop. It becomes thy Oath full well,
Thou to me thy Secrets tell.

Dor. Me too, let me go thither:

Mop. Or thou goeft to th' Grange, or Mill,
Dor. If to either thou doft ill:

Aut. Neither.

Dor. What neither ?

Aut. Neither.

Dor. Thou hast fworn my Love to be,

Mop. Thou haft fworn it more to me:
Then whither goest? Say whither?

Clo. We'll have this Song out anon by our felves: My
Father and the Gentlemen are in fad talk, and we'll not trou-

ble

ble them: Come bring away thy Pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both: Pedler let's have the first Choice; follow me Girls.

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'ft, fin'ft Ware a:
Come to the Pedler, Mony's a medler,
That doth utter all Mens Ware-a.

[Exit Clown, Autolicus, Dorcas, and Mopfa.

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 themfelves 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 these 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' fquare.

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 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

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