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!

[Groveling on the ground.

Clown. I'the name of me,

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

Clown. 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 receiv'd; which are mighty ones, and millions.

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

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

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

Clown. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the garments he hath 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 band. [Helping him up. Aut. O! good sir, tenderly, oh!

Clown. Alas, poor soul.

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

Clown. How now? canst stand?

Aut. Softly, dear sir; [picks his pocket.] good sir, softly: you ha' done me a charitable office.

Clown. 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.

Clown. What manner of fellow was he that robb'd you?

Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames 53: 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 whipp'd out of the court.

Clown. His vices, you would say; there is no virtue whipp'd 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 process-server, a bailiff; then he compass'd a motion of the prodigal son 54, 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. 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.

Clown. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohe

Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune
A ram, and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,

As I seem now: Their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer;
Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires
Run not before mine honour; nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.

Per.

O but, dear sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis

Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'the king:
One of these two must be necessities,

Which then will speak; that you must change this

purpose,

Or I my life.

Flo.

Thou dearest Perdita,

With these forc'd thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not The mirth o'the feast: Or I'll be thine, my fair, Or not my father's: for I cannot be

Mine own, nor any thing to any, if

I be not thine: to this I am most constant,
Though destiny say, no. Be merry, gentle;
Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing

That you behold the while. Your guests are com

ing:

Lift up your countenance; as it were the day

Of celebration of that nuptial, which

We two have sworn shall come.

Per.

Stand you auspicious!

O lady fortune,

Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods,

And you the queen on't.

Per.

Sir, my gracious lord,

To chide at your extremes, it not becomes me;
O, pardon, that I name them: your high self,
The gracious mark o'the land, you have obscur'd
With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly

maid,

Most goddesslike prank'd up: But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, I should blush

To see you so attired; sworn, I think,
To show myself a glass 56.

Flo.

I bless the time,

When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father's ground.

Per.
Now Jove afford you cause!
To me the difference forges dread: your greatness
Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I tremble
To think, your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did: O, the fates!
How would he look, to see his work, so noble,
Vilely bound up 57? What would he say? Or how
Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
The sternness of his presence?

Apprehend

Flo.
Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter

VOL. V.

Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune
A ram, and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
As I seem now: Their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer;
Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires
Run not before mine honour; nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.

Per.

O but, dear sir,

Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis

Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'the king:
One of these two must be necessities,

Which then will speak; that you must change this

purpose,

Or I my life.

Flo.

Thou dearest Perdita,

With these forc'd thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not The mirth o'the feast: Or I'll be thine, my fair, Or not my father's: for I cannot be

Mine own, nor any thing to any, if

I be not thine: to this I am most constant,
Though destiny say, no. Be merry, gentle;
Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing

That you behold the while. Your guests are com

ing:

Lift up your countenance; as it were the day

Of celebration of that nuptial, which

We two have sworn shall come.

Per.
Stand you auspicious!

O lady fortune,