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money, or

Cla. Doft lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

AUT. No, good sweet fir; no, I beseech you, fir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going ; I shall there have any thing I want: Offer me no money, i pray you; that kills my heart.

Clo. What manner of fellow was he that rob’d you? Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-madames : I knew him once a servant of the prince; I cannot tell, good fir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipt out of the court.

Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipt 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, fir. I know this man well: he hath been fince an ape-bearer ; then a process-server, a bailif; then he compaffd a motion of the prodigal fon, and marry'd a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settld only in rogue: some call him, Autolicus.

Clo. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.

Aut. Very true, fir; he, fir, 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

Aut. I must confess to you, fir, I am no fighter: I am falle of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him,

run.

Clo. How do you now?

AUT. Sweet fir, 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.

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?
Aut. No, good-fac'd fir; no, sweet fir.

Clo. Then fare thee well; I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.

AUT. Prosper you, sweet fir!-[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 Mearers prove sheep, let me be unrold, and my name put in the book of virtue!

[fings. Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,

and merrily hend the stile-a : a merry heart goes all the day, your sad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit.

SCENE III. The fame. A Room in the Shepherd's House.

Enter Florizel, and Perdita. 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-lhearing 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 ;
O, pardon, that I name them : your high self,
The gracious mark o'the land, you have obscurid
With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,
Moft goddess-like prank'd up : But that our feasts

16 bent

23 Do’s give

In

every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom ; I should blush,
To see you so attired ; swoon, I think,
To fhew myself a glass.

Flo. I bless the time,
When my good falcon made her fight across
Thy father's ground.
PER. Now Jove afford you

cause!
To me, the difference forges dread; your greatness
Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I tremble
To think, your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did: 0 the fates !
How would he look, to see his work, so noble,
Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how
Should I, in these my borrow'd faunts, behold
The fternness of his presence?

Flo. Apprehend Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune A ram, and bleated ; and the fire-rob’d god, Golden Apollo, a poor humble fwain, As I seem now: Their transformations Were never for a piece of beauty rarer; Nor in a way so chaft : since my desires Run not before mine honour; nor my luits Burn hotter than

my

faith. Per. o but, dear fir, 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,

3 sworne I

Which then will speak; that you must change this purOr I my life.

[pose, Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, With these forc'd thoughts, I pr’ythee, darken not The mirth o'the feast: Or I'll be thine, my fair, Or not my father's : for I cannot be Mine own, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine : to this I am most conftant, Though destiny fay, no. Be merry, gentle ; Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing That you behold the while. Your guests are coming : Lift up your countenance; as it were the day Of celebration of that nuptial, which We two have sworn shall come.

Per. O lady fortune,
Stand you auspicious!

Flo. See, your guests approach :
Address yourfelf to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Enter Shepherd, with POLIxenes and
CAMILLO, disguis'd; Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS,

and other Company. She. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv'd, upon This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook ; Both dame, and servant : welcom'd all; serv'd all : Would fing her song, and dance her turn: now here, At

upper end o’the table; now, i'the middle; On his houlder, and his : her face o'fire With labour ; and the thing, she took to quench it, She would to each one sip : You are retir’d, As if you were a feasted one, and not The hostess of the meeting : Pray you, bid

These unknown friends to us, welcome; for it is
A way to make us better friends, more known.
Come, quench your blushes; and present yourself
That which you are, mistress o'the feast: Come on,
And bid us welcome to your sheep-fhearing,
As your good flock shall profper.

PER. Welcome, fir !
It is
my

father's will, I should take on me
The hostess-ship o'the day: _You're welcome, fir! -
Give me those T flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend firs,
For

you there's rose- mary, and rue ; these keep
Seeming, and favour, all the winter long :
Grace, and remembrance, be to you both;
And welcome to our shearing!

Pol. Shepherdess,
(A fair one are you) well you fit our ages
With flowers of winter.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, - the fair'ít flowers o'the season Are our carnations, and streak'd gilly-flowers, Which fome call, nature's baftards : of that kind Our ruftick garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them.

POL. Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Do you neglect them?

Per. For I have heard it said,
There is an art, which, in their pideness, shares
With great creating nature.

POL. Say, there be ;
Yet nature is made better by no means
But nature makes that mean : fo, o'er that art,

7 firy welcome :

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