Per.

Flo.

Out, alas!

You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
Would blow you through-and-through.-Now, my
fair'st friend,

to one of

[th
the guests.

I would I had some flowers o' the 'Spring, that might
Become 'your time of day, and yours; daffodils,
That come before the swallow 'dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno'sa eyes,
Or Cytheréa's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold

Bright Phoebus in his strength; bold" oxlips, and
The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds,

turning

The flower-de-luce' being one. O, these I lack,
To make 'you garlands of; and my sweet friend, [to Fior.
To strew 'him o'er and o'er.

What, like a 'corse?
Per. No, like a 'bank, for Love to lie and play on,
Not like a corse; or if,-not to be 'buried,
But 'quick, and in 'mine arms.

Flo.

flowers.

g

Come, 'take your

Methinks, I 'play," as I have seen them do
In Whitsun'-pastorals: sure, this 'robe of mine
Does change my 'disposition.

What 'you do

Still 'betters what is done. When you 'speak, sweet,
I'd have you do it 'ever: when you 'sing,.
I'd have you buy-and-'sell so; so give 'alms;
'Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing 'them too: When you do 'dance, I wish you
A wave o' the sea,-that you might 'ever do
Nothing but 'that; move still, still so,

And own no 'other function. 'Each your doing,-
So singular in each particular,-

'Crowns what you are doing in the 'present deeds,
That 'all your acts are 'queens.

The disguised King Polixenes cannot withhold his admiration : Pol. This is the 'prettiest low-born lass that ever

Ran on the green-sward: nothing she 'does, or 'seems,
But smacks of something 'greater than herself,
Too noble for this place.

a wife of Jupiter and queen of all the gods. ba surname of Venus. ⚫ the Sun. d the oxlip has a strong stalk (bold), the cowslip a weak one. e a perennial bulb with showy flowers. f a plant of Iris genus, the fleur de lis. g living. ham become an actress. i Whit-Sunday, the seventh Sunday after Easter: (Pentecost.)

Cam.

Camillo earnestly watches the young couple.
He tells her something,
That makes her 'blood look out.

The 'queen of curds-and-cream.

Good sooth, she is

A merry dance of the Shepherds and Shepherdesses follows. Meanwhile King Polixenes inquires of the old father:

Pol. Pray you, good Shepherd, what fair swain is this,
Who dances with your daughter?

Shep. They call him Doricles, and he boasts himself
To have a worthy feeding."

He says he 'loves my daughter: and, to be plain,
I think, there is not half-a-kiss to choose
'Who loves another best. If young Doricles
Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not 'dreams of.

A Neat-herd enters.

Herd. O master! if you did but hear the 'Pedler at the door, you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe; no, the 'bagpipe could not move you. He'sings several tunes faster than you 'll tell money; he utters them as he had 'eaten ballads, and 'all men's ears grew to his tunes.

Clo. He could never come better; he shall come in. I'love a ballad but even too well; if it be 'doleful matter, merrily set down-or a very 'pleasant thing indeed, and sung 'lamentably.

Herd. He hath 'songs, for man or woman, of all sizes ; no milliner can so fit his customers with 'gloves. He hath 'ribbons, of all the colours i' the rainbow; points, more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross; inkles,a caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why, he 'sings them over, as they were gods or goddesses.

Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in, and let him 'approach singing.

[Exit Herd.

All the Shepherd lads and lasses crowd around Autolycus when he enters: The young Prince and Perdita are apart by themselves: and the old Shepherd is still in conversation with the King and Camillo.

Gloves, as sweet as damask roses;
Masks, for faces and for noses;
Bugle-bracelet, necklace-amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber;
Golden quoifs, and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears;—

Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry: Come, buy!

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of 'me; but, 'being enthralled as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribands and gloves. Mopsa coaxingly turns to her lover:

Mop. Come, you 'promised me a tawdry lace, and a pair of sweet gloves.

Clo. Have I not told thee how I was 'cozened by the way, and 'lost all my money?-What hast here? ballads? Mop. 'Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in 'print o' my life; for 'then we are sure they are 'true.

Aut. Here's a ballad,-Of a fish, that appeared upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom above water; and 'sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she 'was a woman, and was turned into a cold 'fish.

Dor. Is it 'true, think you?

Aut. 'Five Justices' hands at it; and 'witnesses, more than my pack will hold.

Clo. Lay it by: Another.

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

Aut. Why, this is a "passing merry one, and goes to the tune of "Two maids wooing a man."

Clo. We'll have this song 'out anon,' by 'ourselves.-My father, and the gentlemen, are in sad talk, and we 'll not trouble 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.

Aut. [Aside.] And you shall pay 'well for 'em.

Will you buy any tape,

Or lace for your cape,
My dainty duck, my dear-a?
Any silks, any thread,

Any toys for your head,

Of the newest and finest wear-a?

bornamental breast-coverings.

coifs, head-dresses. a cheap kind of lace, called (corruptedly) after St. Audry, of Ely, in Cambridgeshire, and known, at St. Audry's fair, as" tawdry lace." perfumed. surpassing. 'very soon. 8 serious.

Come to the pedler;

Money 's a meddler,

That doth uttera 'all men's ware-a.

Exeunt Clown, Aut.,

Dor., and Mop.

During the absence of the rustics, the solemn part of the day's proceedings is about to begin. Out of courtesy to the strangers, they are invited to be witnesses: The King guardedly addresses his son:

Pol. How now, fair shepherd?

Your heart is full of something, that does take

'Your mind from feasting. Sooth,-when 'I was young,
And handed love as 'you do, I was wont

To 'load my she" with knacks: I would have 'ransacked
The Pedler's silken treasury, and have 'poured it
To her acceptance; 'you have let him go,

And nothing marted with him.

Flo. 'She prizes not such trifles as 'these are.

The gifts she looks from 'me are packed and locked
Up in my heart,—which I have 'given already,

But not 'delivered.-[.] O, hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
Hath 'sometime loved. I take thy hand; this hand,
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it,

Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fanned snow

That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er. Pol. [Aside.] How prettily the young swain seems to 'wash The hand, was fair 'before!-I have put you out.But to your 'protestation: let me 'hear

What you profess.

Do, and be witness to 't.

Flo.
Pol. And this my neighbour too?
Flo.

And he, and 'more
Than he, and 'men; the earth, the heavens, and 'all;
That, were I crowned the most imperial monarch,
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve; had force and knowledge
More than was ever 'man 's,-I would not prize them,
Without 'her 'love: 'for her, employ them 'all;

Commend them, and condemn them, to 'her service,
Or to their own 'perdition.

The old Shepherd adds his inquiry:

Shep. But, my daughter, say you the like to 'him?
Per. I cannot 'speak.

a bring out for sale.

b my lady-love. c traded. d gifted.

Shep.

Flo.

So well, 'nothing so well; no, nor mean 'better:
By the pattern of mine 'own thoughts, I cut-out
The purity of 'his.

Take hands; a bargain:-
And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't:
I 'give my daughter to him,-and will make
'Her portion equal 'his!

O! that must be

I' the 'virtue of your daughter: One being dead,
'I shall have more than you can 'dream of yet;
Enough then for your 'wonder! But, come;
Contract us 'fore these witnesses.

King Polixenes excitedly addresses the Prince :

Pol. Soft, Swain, a while, 'beseech you: Have you a father? Flo. I have: But what of 'him?

Pol. 'Knows he of this?

Flo.

Pol. Methinks, a 'father

Flo.

He neither 'does, nor 'shall.

Is, at the 'nuptial of his son, a guest

That 'best becomes the table." Reason, a son
Should 'choose himself a wife; but as 'good reason,
The father (all whose joy is nothing else

But fair posterity)—should hold 'some counsel,
In 'such a business.

I 'yield all this;

But... for some 'other reasons, my grave sir,-
Which 't is not fit 'you know,-I 'not acquaint
My father, of 'this business.

The Shepherd adds his entreaty:

Shep. 'Let him, my son: he shall not need to 'grieve
At 'knowing of thy choice.

Flo.

Come, come, he 'must not.—

Mark now our contract.

The King discovers himself:

Pol. Mark your 'divorce, young sir,

Whom 'son I dare not call: thou art too base
To be acknowledged. 'Thou, a 'sceptre's heir,
That thus affect'st a 'sheep-hook!-[shepherd.] Thou old
traitor,

the King.

b festivity.

CO. R. my sonne.

d inserted word.