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I have ; but what of him ;
Pol. Knows he of this ?

He neither does nor shall.
Pol. Methinks a father
Is at the nuptial of his son a guest
That best becomes the table. Pray you once

more, Is not your father grown incapable Of reasonable affairs ? Is he not stupid With age and alt’ring rheums? Can he speak ?

hear? Know man from man ? dispute his own es

tate ? Lies 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 so, a wrong
Something unfilial. Reason my 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.

Let him know 't.
Flo. He shall not.

Prithee, let him.

No, he must not.
Shep. Let him, my son. He shall 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.Í Whom son I dare not call.' Thou art too base To be acknowledg'd. Thou a sceptre's heir, That thus affects a sheep-hook! Thou old

traitor, I am sorry that by hanging thee I can But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh

piece Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know The royal fool thou cop'st with, Shep.

0, my heart! Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with

briers, and made More homely than thy state. For thee, fond

If I may ever know thou dost but sigh
That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never
I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succes-

Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, 440
Far than Deucalion off. Mark thou my words.
Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this

Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it. And you, enchant-

ment, Worthy enough a herdsman, 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 hoop his body more with thy embraces,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee
As thou art tender to 't.

[Exit. Per.

Even here undone ! I was not much afeard; for once or twice I was about to speak, and tell him plainly The self-same sun that shines upon his court Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike. Will 't please you, sir, be

gone? I told you what would come of this. Beseech

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! 180 Speak ere thou diest. Shep.

I cannot speak, nor think, 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 die upon the bed my father died, To lie close by his honest bones ; but now Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed

wretch, That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst

adventure To mingle faith with him! Undone ! undone ! If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd 471 To die when I desire.

[Erit. Flo.

Why look you so upon me? I am but sorry, not afeard ; delay'd, But nothing alt'red. What I was, I am ; More straining on for plucking back, not follow

ing My leash 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 sight as yet, I fear.
Then, till the fury of his Highness settle,
Come not before him.

I not purpose it.
I think, Camillo ?

Even he, my lord.
Per. How often have I told you 't would be

thus !
How often said, my dignity would last
But till 't were known!

It cannot fail but by
The violation of my faith; and then
Let Nature crush the sides o' the earth together
And mar the seeds within ! Lift up thy looks.
From my succession wipe me, father; I
Am heir to my affection.

Be advis'd. Flo. I am, and by my fancy. If my reason Will thereto be obedient, I have reason ; If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness, Do bid it welcome. Cam.

This is desperate, sir,








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Flo. So call it, but it does fulfil my vow; I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may Be thereat gleaned, for all the sun sees or The close earth wombs or the profound seas

hides In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath To this my fair belov'd ; therefore, I pray you, As you have ever been my father's honour'd

friend, When he shall miss me, - as, in faith, I mean

To see him any more, - cast your good counsels
Upon his passion ; let myself and Fortune
Tug for the time to come. This you may know
And so deliver: I am put to sea
With her who here I cannot hold on shore ;
And most opportune to our need I have
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd
For this design. What course I mean to hold
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concern me the reporting.

O my lord !
I would your spirit were easier for advice,
Or stronger for your need.

Hark, Perdita!

(Drawing her aside.) I'll hear you (to Cam.] by and by. Cam.

He's irremoveable,
Resolv'd for flight. Now were I happy, if
His going I could frame to serve my turn,
Save him from danger, do him love and hon-

Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia
And that unhappy king, my master, whom
I so much thirst to see.

Now, good Camillo ;
I am so fraught with curious business that
I leave out ceremony.

Sir, I think You have heard of my poor services, i' the love That I have borne your father? Flo.

Very nobly Have you deserv'd. It is my father's music To speak your deeds, not little of his care To have them recompens'd as thought on. Cam.

Well, my lord, If you may please to think I love the King 631 And through him what 's nearest to him,

which is Your gracious self, embrace but my direction. If your more ponderous and settled project May suffer alteration, on mine honour, I'll point you where you shall have such re

ceiving As shall become your Highness ; where you

Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see,
There's no disjunction to be made, but by -
As heavens forefend ! - your ruin ; marry
And, with my best endeavours in your ab-

Your discontenting father strive to qualify
And bring him up to liking.

How, Camillo,
May this, almost a miracle, be done ?

That I may call thee something more than

man And after that trust to thee. Cam.

Have you thought on A place whereto you 'll go ? Flo.

Not any yet: But as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and

flies Of every wind that blows. Cam.

Then list to me. This follows: if you will not change your pur

pose But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia, And there present yourself and your fair prin

cess, For so I see she must be, 'fore Leontes. She shall be habited as it becomes The partner of your bed. Methinks I see Leontes opening his free arms and weeping His welcomes forth; asks thee, the son, for

giveness, As 't were i' the father's person ; kisses the

hands Of your fresh princess ; o'er and o'er divides

him 'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness ; the He chides to hell and bids the other grow Faster than thought or time. Flo.

Worthy Camillo, What colour for my visitation shall I Hold up before him ? Cam.

Sent by the King your father To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you as from your father shall deliver, Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you

down ; The which shall point you forth at every sitting What you must say ; that he shall not perceive But that you have your father's bosom there And speak his very heart. Flo.

I am bound to you. There is some sap in this. Cam.

A cause more promising Than a wild dedication of yourselves To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most

certain To miseries enough; no hope to help you, But as you shake off one to take another; Nothing so certain as your anchors, who Do their best office, if they can but stay you Where you 'll be loath to be. Besides, you know, Prosperity 's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart to

gether Affliction alters. Per.

One of these is true.
I think affliction may subdue the cheek,
But not take in the mind.

Yea, say you so ? There shall not at your father's house these

seven years Be born another such. Flo.

My good Camillo,

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She is as forward of her breeding as
She is i' the rear o' our birth.

I cannot say 't is pity
She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress
To most that teach.

Your pardon, sir; for this I'll blush you thanks. Flo.

My prettiest Perdita! But 0, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo, 695 Preserver of my father, now of me, The medicine of our house, how shall we do? We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son, Nor shall appear in Sicilia. Cam.

My lord,
Fear none of this. I think you know my for-

Do all lie there. It shall be so my care
To have you royally appointed as if

scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, That you may know you shall not want, one word.

(They talk aside.) 604 Re-enter AUTOLYCUS. Aut. Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my trumpery ; not a counterfeit stone, pot a ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack (610 from fasting. They throng who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer; by which means I saw whose purse was best in picture, and what I saw, to my good use I rememb’red. My clown, who wants but something to be (616 a reasonable man, grew so in love with the wenches' song, that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words; which so drew the rest of the herd to me that all their other senses stuck in ears. You might have (620 pinched a placket, it was senseless; 't was nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse ; I would have fil'd keys off that hung in chains. No hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this time of lethargy I pick'd and cut most of their (625 festival purses ; and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against bis daughter and the King's son and scar'd my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army. [Camillo, Florizel, and Perdita

come forward.] Cam. Nay, but my letters, by this means

being there So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. Flo. And those that you 'll procure from

King Leontes ?
Cam. Shall satisfy yonr father.

Happy be you !
All that you speak shows fair.

Who have we here?

[Seeing Autolycus.) We'll make an instrument of this, omit Nothing may give us aid.

Aut. If they have overheard me now, why, banging.

Cam. How now, good fellow ! why shak'st

thou so ? Fear not, man ; here 's no harm intended to thee.

Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir.

Cam. Why, be so still, here's nobody will steal that from thee. Yet for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange ; therefore discase thee instantly, thou must think there is a necessity in 't, -- and change garments with this gentleman. Though the pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot.

Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir. (Aside.] I know ye well enough.

Cam. Nay, prithee, dispatch. The gentleman is half flay'd already.

Aut. Are you in earnest, sir ? (Aside.] I smell the trick on 't.

Flo. Dispatch, I prithee.

Aut. Indeed, I have had earnest; but I cannot with conscience take it. Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle.

(Florizel and Autolycus exchange

Fortunate mistress, – let my prophecy
Come home to ye ! you must retire yourself
Into some covert. Take your sweetheart's hat
And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your face,
Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken
The truth of your own seeming ; that you

For I do fear eyes over- to shipboard
Get undescri'd.

I see the play so lies
That I must bear a part.

No remedy.
Have you done there?

Should I now meet my father,
He would not call me son.

Nay, you shall have no hat.

(Giving it to Perdita.] Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. Aut.

Adieu, sir. Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain for

got! Pray you, a word. Cam. (Aside.) What I do next, shall be to

tell the King
Of this escape and whither they are bound ;
Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail
To force him after ; in whose company
I shall re-view Sicilia, for whose sight
I have a woman's longing.

Fortune speed us !
Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.
Cam. The swifter speed the better.

[Exeunt (Florizel, Perdita, and Ca

millo). Aut. I understand the business, I hear it. To have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cut-purse ; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for the (686 other senses. I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been without boot ! What a boot is here with this exchange ! Sure the gods do this year connive at us, and we may do anything ex- (001 tempore. The Prince himself is about a piece








nor hen.






an ounce.

of iniquity, stealing away from his father with court-contempt? Think'st thou, for that I inhis clog at his heels. If I thought it were a sinuate, or tuuse from thee thy business, I am piece of honesty to acquaint the King withal, I therefore no courtier ? I am courtier cap-a-pie, would not do 't. I hold it the more knavery (ess and one that will either push on or pluck (781 to conceal it; and therein am I constant to back thy business there ; whereupon I commy profession.

mand thee to open thy affair. Re-enter Clown and SHEPHERD.

Shep. My business, sir, is to the King.

Aut. What advocate hast thou to him ? Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot Shep. I know not, an 't like you, brain. Every lane's end, every shop, church, Clo. Advocate's the court-word for a pheasession, hanging, yields a careful man work. 101 sant. Say you have none.

Clo. See, see ; what a man you are now ! Shep. None, sir ; I have no pheasant, cock There is no other way but to tell the King she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood. Aut. How blessed are we that are not simShep. Nay, but hear me.

ple men! Clo. Nay, but hear me.

Yet Nature might have made me as these are, Shep. Go to, then.

Therefore I will not disdain. Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood, Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. your flesh and blood has not offended the King; Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears and so your flesh and blood is not to be punish'd them not handsomely. by him. Show those things you found about Clo. He seems to be the more noble in being her, those secret things, all but what she has fantastical. A great man, I 'll warrant ; I know with her. This being done, let the law go by the picking on 's teeth. whistle. I warrant you.

Aut. The fardel there? What's i' the farShep. I will tell the King all, every word, del? Wherefore that box ? yea, and his son's pranks too; who, I may say, Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this faris no honest man, neither to his father nor to del and box, which none must know but the me, to go about to make me the King's brother- King; and which he shall know within this in-law.

hour, if I may come to the speech of him. Clo. Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. off you could have been to him, and then your Shep. Why, sir ? blood had been the dearer by I know how much Aut. The King is not at the palace. He is

gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy Aut. (Aside.) Very wisely, puppies !

and air himself; for, if thou be'st capable of Shep. Well, let us to the King. There is that things serious, thou must know the King is in this fardel will make him scratch his beard. full of grief.

Aut. (Aside.) I know not what impediment Shep. So 't is said, sir ; about his son, that this complaint may be to the flight of my master. should have married a shepherd's daughter. Clo. Pray heartily he be at palace.

Aut. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, Aut. (Aside.) Though I am not naturally let him fly. The curses he shall have, the torhonest, I am so sometimes by chance. Let me tures he shall feel, will break the back of man, pocket up my pedlar's excrement. (Takes off the heart of monster. his false beard.) How now, rustics ! whither are Clo. Think you so, sir ?

Aut. Not he alone shall suffer what wit can Shep. To the palace, an it like your worship. make heavy and vengeance bitter, but those

Aui. Your affairs there? What, with whom, that are germane to him, though remov'd fifty the condition of that fardel, the place of your times, shall all come under the hangman; dwelling, your names, your ages, of what hav- which though it be great pity, yet it is necesing, breeding, and anything that is fitting to sary. An old sheep-whistling rogue, a ram- [*** be known, discover ?

tender, to offer to have his daughter come into Clo. We are but plain fellows, sir.

grace! Some say he shall be ston'd; but that Aut. A lie ; you are rough and hairy. Let death is too soft for him, say I. Draw our me have no lying. It becomes none but trades- throne into a sheep-cote! All deaths are too men, and they often give us soldiers the lie; few, the sharpest too easy. but we pay them for it with stamped coin, not Clo. Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you stabbing steel; therefore they do not give us hear, an 't like you, sir ? the lie.

Aut. He has a son, who shall be flay'd alive: Clo. Your worship had like to have given us then 'nointed over with honey, set on the head one, if you had not taken yourself with the of a wasp's nest; then stand till he be three

quarters and a dram dead; then recover'd Shep. Are you a courtier, an 't like you, again with aqua-vitæ or some other hot insir ?

fusion ; then, raw as he is, and in the hot- sis Aut. Whether it like me or no, I am a cour- test day prognostication proclaims, shall he be tier. Seest thou not the air of the court in these set against a brick-wall, the sun looking with a enfoldings ? Hath not my gait in it the mea- southward eye upon him, where he is to behold sure of the court ? Receives not thy nose court- him with flies blown to death. But what talk odour from me ? Reflect I not on thy baseness we of these traitorly rascals, whose mis- (129


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eries are to be smil'd at, their offences being so capital ? Tell me, for you seem to be honest plain men, what you have to the King. Being something gently consider'd, I'll bring you where he is aboard, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfs ; and if it be in man besides the King to effect your suits, here is man shall do it.

Clo. He seems to be of great authority. Close with him, give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold. Show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, and no more ado. Remember “ston'd," and "flay'd alive."

Shep. An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, here is that gold I have. I'll make it as much more, and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you.

Aut. After I have done what I promised ? Shep. Ay, sir.

Aut. Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business?

Clo. In some sort, sir; but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be fay'd out of it.

Aut. O, that's the case of the shepherd's son. Hang him, he 'll be made an example. 846

Clo. Comfort, good comfort! We must to the King and show our strange sights. He must know 't is none of your daughter nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old man does when the business is performed, and remain, as he says, your pawn till it be brought you.

Aut. I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side; go on the right hand. I will but look upon the hedge and follow you.

Clo.' We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest.

Shep. Let's before as he bids us. He was provided to do us good.

(Exeunt Shepherd and Clown.] Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer me; she drops booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion, gold and a means to do the Prince my master good; which who knows how that may turn back to my advancement? I will [865 bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him. If he think it fit to shore them again, and that the complaint they have to the King concerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far officious; for I am proof against that title and what shame else belongs to 't. To him will I present them. There may be matter in it.

[Erit. 873

Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid

down More penitence than done trespass. At the last Do as the heavens have done, forget your With them forgive yourself. Leon.

Whilst I remember Her and her virtues, I cannot forget My blemishes in them, and so still think of The wrong I did myself; which was so much That heirless it hath made my kingdom, and 10 Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er

man Bred his hopes out of. Paul.

True, too true, my lord. If, one by one, you wedded all the world, Or, from the all that are, took something good To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd Would be unparallel'd. Leon.

I think so. Kill'd ! She I kill'd! I did so ; but thou strik'st me Sorely, to say I did. It is as bitter Upon thy tongue as in my thought. Now, good,

now, Say so but seldom. Cleo.

Not at all, good lady.
You might have spoken a thousand things that

Have done the time more benefit and grac'd
Your kindness better.

You are one of those
Would have him wed again.

If you would not so,
You pity not the state, nor the remembrance 26
Of his most sovereign name; consider little
What dangers, by his Highness' fail of issue,
May drop upon his kingdom and devour
Incertain lookers on. What were more holy
Than to rejoice the former queen is well ?
What holier than, for royalty's repair,
For present comfort and for future good,
To bless the bed of majesty again
With a sweet fellow to't ?

There is none worthy, Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes ; For has not the divine Apollo said, Is 't not the tenour of his oracle, That King Leontes shall not have an beir Till his lost child be found ? which that it

shall, Is all as monstrous to our human reason As my Antigonus to break his grave And come again to me; who, on my life, Did perish with the infant. 'T is your counsel My lord should to the heavens be contrary, Oppose against their wills. [To Leontes.] Care

not for issue ; The crown will find an heir. Great Alexander Left his to the worthiest; so his successor Was like to be the best. Leon.

Good Paulina, Who hast the memory of Hermione, I know, in honour, 0, that ever I Had squar'd me to thy counsell then, even



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SCENE I. (A room in Leontes' palace.! Enter LEONTES, CLEOMENES, Dion, PAULINA,

and Servants. Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have

perform'd A saint-like sorrow. No fault could you make,


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