Clo. Indeed, he fhould be a foot-man, by the garments he hath left with thee; if this be a horfe-man's coat, it hath feen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, F'll help thee. Come, lend me thy hand. [Helping him up. Aut. Oh! good Sir, tenderly, oh! Clo. Alas, poor foul. Aut. O good Sir, foftly, good Sir: I fear, Sir, my fhoulder-blade is out. Clo. How now? canft ftand? Aut. Softly, dear Sir; good Sir, foftly; you ha done me a charitable office. Clo. Doft lack any mony? I have a little mony for thee. Aut. No, good fweet Sir; no, I beseech you, Sir; I have a kinfman not paft three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I fhall there have mony, or any thing I want: offer me no mony, I pray you; that kills my heart. Clo. What manner of fellow was he, that robb'd you? Aut. A fellow, Sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames : I knew him once a fervant 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. Clo. His vices, you would fay; 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 fay, Sir. I know this man well he hath been fince an ape-bearer, then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compafs'd a motion of the prodigal fon, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lyes; and, having flown over many knavish profeffions, he fettled only in a rogue; fome call him Autolicus. Clo. 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. Clo. 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 confefs to you, Sir, I am no fighter; I am false of heart that way, and that he knew, I warrant him. Clo. 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 foftly towards my kinfman's. Clo. Shall I bring thee on thy way? Aut. No, good-fac'd Sir; no, fweet Sir. Clo. Then, farewel, I must go to buy spices for our fheep-fhearing. [Exit. Aut. Profper you, fweet Sir! Your purfe is not hot enough to purchase your fpice. I'll be with you at your fheep-fhearing too: if I make not this cheat bring out another, and the fhearers prove fheep, let me be unroll'd, and my name put into the book of virtue ! SONG. fog on, jog on, the foot-path way, A [Exit. SCENE, the Prospect of a Shepherd's Cotte. Flo. T Enter Florizel and Perdita. HESE your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no fhepherdefs, 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 extreams it not becomes me : โก In every mes have folly, and the feeders Flo. I blefs the time, When my good falcon made her flight a-crofs. Per. Now Jove afford you caufe! To me the difference forges dread, your greatnefs Flo. Apprehend Nothing but jollity: the Gods themselves, Per. O, but, dear Sir, Your refolution cannot hold, when 'tis One of thefe two muft be neceffities, Which then will fpeak, that you must change this purpose, Or I my life. Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, With these forc'd thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not Or not my father's. For I cannot be Mine own, nor any thing to any, if N 3 I I be not thine. To this I am most constant, Per. O lady fortune, Stand you aufpicious! Enter Shepherd, Clorun, Mopfa, Dorcas, Servants; with Polixenes and Camillo difguis'd. Flo. See, your guefts approach; Addrefs yourself to entertain them fprightly, Shep. Fie, daughter; when my old wife liv'd, upon This day fhe was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and fervant; welcom'd all, ferv'd all; As your good flock fhall profper. Per. Sirs, welcome. [To Pol. and Cam. It is my father's will, I fhould take on me The hoftefsfhip o'th' day; you're welcome, Sirs. Reverend Sirs, For Pol Pol. Shepherdess, (A fair one are you,) well With flowers of winter. you fit our ages Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on fummer's death, nor on the birth Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, Do you neglect them? Per. For I have heard it said, There is an art, which in their piedeness shares Pol. Say, there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean; fo over that art, That nature makes; you fee, fweet maid, we marry And make conceive a bark of bafer kind By bud of nobler race. This is an art, Which does mend nature, change it rather; but The art it felf is nature. Per. So it is. Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly-flowers, And do not call them baftards. Per. I'll not put The dibble in earth, to fet one flip of them: No more than, were I painted, I would with This youth fhould fay, "twere well; and only therefore: Hot lavender, mints, favoury, marjoram, Cam. I fhould leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing. N. 4 Per. |