Aut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad: therefore it behoves men to be wary.

Clo. Fear not thou, man; thou shalt lose nothing here.

Aut. I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge.

Clo. What hast here? ballads?

500

Mop. Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print, or a life; for then we are sure they are true.

Aut. Here's one, to a very doleful tune, How an usurer's wife was brought to-bed with twenty moneybags at a burden; and how she long'd to eat adders heads, and toads carbonado'd.

Mop. Is it true, think you?

Aut. Very true, and but a month old.

Dor. Bless me from marrying an usurer t

510

Aut. Here's the midwife's name to't, one mistress Taleporter, and five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad?

Mop. Pray you now, buy it.

Clo. Come on, lay it by; and lets first see more ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.

Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish that appear'd 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 turn'd into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh with one that lov'd her. The ballad is very pitiful, and as true.

Dor. Is it true too, think you?

523

Aut.

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

Clo. Lay it by too: Another.

Aut. This is a merry ballad; but a very pretty

one.

Mop. Let's have some merry ones.

530

Aut. Why, this is a passing merry one; and goes to the tune of, Two maids wooing a man: there's scarce a maid westward, but she sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you.

Mop. We can both sing it; if thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts.

Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago.

Aut. I can hear my part; you must know, 'tis my Occupation: have at it with you.

S O N G.

A. Get you hence, for I must go;

Where, it fits not you to know.

540

D. Whither? M. 0, whither? D. Whither?

M. It becomes thy oath full well,

Thou to me thy secrets tell:

D. Me too, let me go thither.

M. Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill:

D. If to either, thou do'st ill.

A. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Neither.

D. Thou hast sworn my love to be;

M. Thou hast sworn it more to me:

Then, whither go's't? say, whither?

550

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. Pedlar, let's have the first choice. Follow me, girls.

Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.

Will you buy any tape,

Or lace for your cape,

My dainty duck, my dear-a?

[Aside.

560

Of the new'st, and fin'st, fin'st wear-a?

Come to the pedlar;

Money's a medlar,

That doth utter all men's wear-a.

[Exit Clown, AUTOLICUS, DORCAS, and MOPSA,

Enter a Servant.

Ser. Master, there are three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, and three swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair, they call themselves saltiers; and they have a dance, which the wenches say is a gallymaufry of gambols, because they are not in't but they themselves are o'the mind,

if it be not too rough for some, that know little but bowling, it will please plentifully.

574 Shep. Away! we'll none on't; here has been too much homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you.

Pol. You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let's see these four-threes of herdsmen.

Ser. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danc'd before the king; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the square. 583 Shep. Leave your prating; since these good men are pleas'd, let them come in; but quickly now. Ser. Why, they stay at door, sir.

Here a Dance of Twelve Satyrs.

Pol. [Aside.] O, father, you'll know more of that

hereafter.

Is it not too far gone 'Tis time to part them.—
He's simple, and tells much.- How

herd ?

now, fair shep

590

Your heart is full of something, that doth 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 ransack'd
The pedlar's silken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance; you have let him go,
And nothing 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 a care

Of happy holding her.

Flo. Old sir, I know,

She prizes not such trifles as these are:

600

The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd
Up in my heart; which I have given already,
But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life
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.

Pol. What follows this?

How prettily the young swain seems to was

610

The hand, was fair before!—I have put you out :But, to your protestation: let me hear

What you profess.

Flo. Do, and be witness to't.

Pol. And this my neighbour too?

Flo. And he, and more

Than he, and men; the earth, and heavens, and all:
That were I crown'd the most imperial monarch 620
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve; had force, and know-

ledge o

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.

Pol. Fairly offer'd.

Cam.