Mop. It becomes tby oath full well,
Thou to me thy secrets tell.

Dor. Me, to let me go ibitber:

Mop. Or thou go st to the grange, or mill,
Dor. If to either thou do'st ill,

Man. Neither. Dor. What neitber? Man. Neither,
Dor. Thon bast sworn my love to be;

Mop. Thou bast sworn it more to me ;
Both. Then, whither go'st? Say whither?

Clown. 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
The pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both:
'Pedlar, let's have the first choice. Follow me girls.
dutol. And you shall pay well for 'em.



Will you buy any tape, or lace for your cap?
My dainty buck my dear-a-
Any silk and thread? any toys for your beed,
f the new'st and fin'st, fin st wear-a.

Come to the pedlar; money's a Medlar,
That doth utter all men's ware-a— ?



[Ex. Autolicus, Clown, Dorcass, and Mopsa.

Enter LEONTES and CLEOMINES, from the Farm-House. Cleom. Why will you not repose you, Sir? these sports, The idle merriments of hearts at ease,

But ill will suit the colour of your mind,

Leon. Peace-I enjoy them in a better sortCleomines, look on this pretty damsel;

[Pointing to PERDITA.
Haply such age, sueh innocence and beauty,
Had our dear daughter own'd, had not my hand-
O had I not the course of pature stop'd

On weak surmise--I would not think that way-
And yet I must, always, and ever must.

Cleom. No more, my liege

Leon. Nay, I will gaze upon her; each salt dropt That trickles down my cheek, relieves my heart, Which else wou'd burst with anguish.

Polix (to Camil.) Is it not too far gone? 'tis time to

part 'em ; He's simple, and tells much-how now, fair shepherd,

[To Florizel.

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

Toload my she with knacks; I would have ransack'd
The pedlar's silken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance: you have let him go,
And noth,ng marted with him. If your lass
Interpretation should abuse, and call this

Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited
For a reply, at least, if you make care
Of happy holding her.

Flor. Old Sir, I know;

She prizes not such trifles as these are:

The gifts she looks from me, are pact and lockt
Up in my heart; which I have given already,
But not deliver'd. O hear me breathe my love
Before this ancient Sir; who, it should seem,
Hath sometime lov'd. I take thy hand, this hand,
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it,
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow,
That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er.
Polix. What follow's this?

Leon. How prettily the young swaim seems to wash
The hand was fair before?

Polix. You've put him out;

Come to your protestation: let me hear

What you profess.

Flor. Do, and be witness to't.

Polix. And this my neigbbour too.

Flor. And he, and more

shan he, and men; the earth, and heav'ns, and all;
That were I crown'd 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 'em
Without her love; for her employ them ali;
Commend them, and condemn them, to her service,
Or to their own perdition.

Poliz. Fairly offer'd.

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Leon. This shews a sound affection.

Old Shep. But, my daughter Say you like to him?

Perd. I cannot speak

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

Old Shep. Take hand's-a bargain;

And friends, unknown, you shall bear witness to't,
I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.

Flor: O, that must be

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

Old Shep. Come, your hand;

And, daughter, yours.

Polix. Soft, swain, a while; 'beseech you,
you a father?


Flor. I have; but what of him?

Polix. Knows he of this?

Flor. He neither does, nor shall.

Polix. Methinks a father

Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest

The 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 for man? dispute his own estate?

Lies he not bed-rid, and again, does nothing

But what he did, being childish!

Flor. No, good Sir;

He has his health, and ampler strength indeed,

Than most have of his



Leon. By my white beard,

You offer him, if this be so, a wrong

Something unfilial: reason my son

Shou'd chuse himself a wife; but as good reason,
The father (all whose joy is nothing else

But fair posterity) shou'd hold some council
In such a business.

Flor. I yield all this.


But for some other reasons, my grave Sirs,
Which 'tis not fit you know; I not aquaint
My father of this business.

Polix, Let him know't.
Flor. He shall not.
Polix. Prithee, let him.

Leon. O let him.

Flor. No; he must not.

Old Shep. Let him, my son, he shall not heed to grieve. At knowing of thy choice.

Flor. Come, come, he must not :

Mark our contract.

Polin. (Discovering bimself.) Mark your divorce, young Sir;

Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base

To be acknowledg'd. Thou a scepter's heir,
That thus affect'st a sheep-hook!

Leon. (Amaz'd.) How! Polixenes! what mystery is this I want the power to throw me at his feet,

Nor can I bear his eyes

[Leans on Cleomines, and they go apart. [To the Old Shepherd.

Polix. And thou, old traitor,

I'm 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-

Old Shep. O my heart!

Polix. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briars, and made More homely than my state. For thee, fond boy,

If I may ever know thou dost but sigh,

That thou no more shalt see this knack as never
1 mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succession;
Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin;
Far than our deucation off: mark thou my words;
Follow us to the court-thou churl; for this time
Tho' full of our displeasure, vet we free thee
From the dead blow of it; and new enchantment,
Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too,
That makes himself, but for your honour therein,
Unworthy thee; if ever henceforth, thou
These rural latches to his entrance open,
Or hoop his body more with the embraces,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee,


As thou art tender to it.

Perd. Ev'n here undone !

[Exit Polixenes and Camillo.

I was not much afraid; 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 all alike wil't please you, Sir, be gone?

[To Florizel.

I told you what woul'd hap'-this dream of mine
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,
But milk my ewes, and weep.

Leon. (Coming forward.) How now, old father?
Good shepherd, speak.

Old 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 dy'd,

[To Florizel.

To lie close by his honest bones; but now
Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me
Where no priest shovels in dust-O cursed wretch

[To Perdita. Thou knew'st this was the prince, and would'st adventure To mingle faith with him-Undone! undone !

If I might die this hour, I have liv'd

To die when I desire.

Perd. O my poor father!


Leon. (To Cleomines.) The honest wretch, he helps us at

our need

I will no longer vail me in this cloud,

But plead unmask's, this good old shepherds cause

Before my own; ev'n at Bohemia's knees.

Flor. (To Perdita.) Why look you so upon me?

I am but too sorry, not afraid; delay'd,

But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am,

And ever shall be thine, my Perdita!

Perd. Alas, alas! my lord; these hopes are fled
How often have I told you 'twou'd be thus?
How often said, my dignity wou'd last

But 'till 'twere known!

Flor. It cannot fail, but by

The violation of my faith; and then


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