die, and drab, I purchased this caparison; and my revenue is the silly cheat: Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the highway: beating, and hang. ing, are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. A prize! a prize! Enter Clown. Clown. Let me see: Every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields pound and odd shilling: fifteen hundred shorn, What comes the wool to? Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. [Aside. Clown. I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of sugar; five pound of cur What will this sister of mine do rants; rice with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the shearers: three-man song-men all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases: but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden pies; mace, dates, none; that's out of my note: nutmegs, a race, or two, of ginger; but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o'the sun. seven; Aut. O, that ever I was born! [Groveling on the ground. Clown. Ithe 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 Tags 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 robd'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 hand. [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 abou with trol-my-dames: 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's 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 pro. cess-server, a bailiff; then he compass'd a motion of the prodigal son, 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 Bohemia; if you had but look'd big, and spit at him, he'd have run. Aut. I must confess to you, Sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him. Clown. How do you now? Aut. Sweet Sir, much better than I was; I can stand, and walk: I 'will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's. Clown. Shall I bring thee on the way? Aut. No, good-faced Sir; no, sweet Sir. Clown. Then fare thee well; I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing. Aut. Prosper you, sweet Sir! [Exit Clown.] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unroll'd, and my name put in the book of virtue! Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, SCENE III. The same. A Shepherd's Cottage. Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA. [Exit. Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no shepherdess; but Flora, 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: Flo. I bless the time, When my good falcon made her flight across Per. Now Jove afford you cause! To me, the difference forges dread; your greatness To think, your father, by some accident, Should I in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold Flo. Apprehend A ram, Nothing but jollity. The Gods themselves, 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 Mine own, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine: to this I am most constant, We two have sworn shall come. Per. O lady fortune Stand you auspicious! |