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- William Shakespeare: Winter’s Tale, Act IV, Scene IV
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Scene IVThe Shepherd’s cottageEnter Florizel and PerditaFlorizelThese your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no shepherdess, 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.PerditaSir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extremes it not becomes me: O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self, The gracious mark o’ the land, you have obscured With a swain’s wearing, and me, poor lowly maid, Most goddess-like prank’d up: but that our feasts In every mess have folly and the feeders Digest it with a custom, I should blush To see you so attired, sworn, I think, To show myself a glass.FlorizelI bless the time When my good falcon made her flight across Thy father’s ground.PerditaNow Jove afford you cause! To me the difference forges dread; your greatness Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble To think your father, by some accident, Should pass this way as you did: O, 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 flaunts, behold The sternness of his presence?FlorizelApprehend 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-robed god, Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, As I seem now. Their transformations Were never for a piece of beauty rarer, Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts Burn hotter than my faith.PerditaO, but, sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when ’tis Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the king: One of these two must be necessities, Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose, Or I my life.FlorizelThou dearest Perdita, With these forced thoughts, I prithee, 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 constant, Though destiny say 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.PerditaO lady Fortune, Stand you auspicious!FlorizelSee, your guests approach: Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let’s be red with mirth.Enter Shepherd, Clown, Mopsa, Dorcas, and others, with Polixenes and Camillo disguisedShepherdFie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all; Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here, At upper end o’ the table, now i’ the middle; On his shoulder, and his; her face o’ fire With labour and the thing she took to quench it, She would to each one sip. You are retired, As if you were a feasted one and not The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid These unknown friends to’s 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-shearing, As your good flock shall prosper.PerditaTo PolixenesSir, welcome: It is my father’s will I should take on me The hostess-ship o’ the day.To CamilloYou’re welcome, sir. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, For you there’s rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long: Grace and remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our shearing!PolixenesShepherdess, A fair one are you—well you fit our ages With flowers of winter.PerditaSir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer’s death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o’ the season Are our carnations and streak’d gillyvors, Which some call nature’s bastards: of that kind Our rustic garden’s barren; and I care not To get slips of them.PolixenesWherefore, gentle maiden, Do you neglect them?PerditaFor I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature.PolixenesSay there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean: so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.PerditaSo it is.PolixenesThen make your garden rich in gillyvors, And do not call them bastards.PerditaI’ll not put The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; No more than were I painted I would wish This youth should say ’twere well and only therefore Desire to breed by me. Here’s flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi’ the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age. You’re very welcome.CamilloI should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing.PerditaOut, alas! You’d be so lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair’st friend, I would I had some flowers o’ the spring that might Become your time of day; and yours, and yours, That wear upon your virgin branches yet Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let’st fall From Dis’s waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bight Phoebus in his strength—a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend, To strew him o’er and o’er!FlorizelWhat, like a corse?PerditaNo, like a bank for love to lie and play on; Not like a corse; or if, not to be buried, But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers: Methinks I play as I have seen them do In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine Does change my disposition.FlorizelWhat you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet. I’ld have you do it ever: when you sing, I’ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms, Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you A wave o’ the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that; move still, still so, And own no other function: each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deed, That all your acts are queens.PerditaO Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth, And the true blood which peepeth fairly through’t, Do plainly give you out an unstain’d shepherd, With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, You woo’d me the false way.FlorizelI think you have As little skill to fear as I have purpose To put you to’t. But come; our dance, I pray: Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair, That never mean to part.PerditaI’ll swear for ’em.PolixenesThis is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place.CamilloHe tells her something That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is The queen of curds and cream.ClownCome on, strike up!DorcasMopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, To mend her kissing with!MopsaNow, in good time!ClownNot a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. Come, strike up!Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and ShepherdessesPolixenesPray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this Which dances with your daughter?ShepherdThey call him Doricles; and boasts himself To have a worthy feeding: but I have it Upon his own report and I believe it; He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter: I think so too; for never gazed the moon Upon the water as he’ll stand and read As ’twere my daughter’s eyes: and, to be plain. I think there is not half a kiss to choose Who loves another best.PolixenesShe dances featly.ShepherdSo she does any thing; though I report it, That should be silent: if young Doricles Do light upon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreams of.Enter ServantServantO master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door, you would never dance again after a tabour and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings several tunes faster than you’ll tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men’s ears grew to his tunes.ClownHe could never come better; he shall come in. I love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.ServantHe hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burthens of dildos and fadings, ‘jump her and thump her;’ and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would, as it were, mean mischief and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer ‘Whoop, do me no harm, good man;’ puts him off, slights him, with ‘Whoop, do me no harm, good man.‘PolixenesThis is a brave fellow.ClownBelieve me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares?ServantHe hath ribbons of an the colours i’ the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross: inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why, he sings ’em over as they were gods or goddesses; you would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on’t.ClownPrithee bring him in; and let him approach singing.PerditaForewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in ’s tunes.Exit ServantClownYou have of these pedlars, that have more in them than you’ld think, sister.PerditaAy, good brother, or go about to think.Enter Autolycus, singingAutolycusLawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e’er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses; Masks for faces and for noses; Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, Perfume for a lady’s chamber; Golden quoifs and stomachers, For my lads to give their dears: Pins and poking-sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel: Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy.ClownIf I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me; but being enthralled as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves.MopsaI was promised them against the feast; but they come not too late now.DorcasHe hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.MopsaHe hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has paid you more, which will shame you to give him again.ClownIs there no manners left among maids? will they wear their plackets where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? ’tis well they are whispering: clamour your tongues, and not a word more.MopsaI have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace and a pair of sweet gloves.ClownHave I not told thee how I was cozened by the way and lost all my money?AutolycusAnd indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary.ClownFear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.AutolycusI hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge.ClownWhat hast here? ballads?MopsaPray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o’ life, for then we are sure they are true.AutolycusHere’s one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer’s wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burthen and how she longed to eat adders’ heads and toads carbonadoed.MopsaIs it true, think you?AutolycusVery true, and but a month old.DorcasBless me from marrying a usurer!AutolycusHere’s the midwife’s name to’t, one Mistress Tale-porter, and five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad?MopsaPray you now, buy it.ClownCome on, lay it by: and let’s first see moe ballads; we’ll buy the other things anon.AutolycusHere’s another ballad of a fish, that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday the four-score 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 turned into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her: the ballad is very pitiful and as true.DorcasIs it true too, think you?AutolycusFive justices’ hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack will hold.ClownLay it by too: another.AutolycusThis is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.MopsaLet’s have some merry ones.AutolycusWhy, 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.MopsaWe can both sing it: if thou’lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; ’tis in three parts.DorcasWe had the tune on’t a month ago.AutolycusI can bear my part; you must know ’tis my occupation; have at it with you.SongAutolycusGet you hence, for I must go Where it fits not you to know.DorcasWhither?MopsaO, whither?DorcasWhither?MopsaIt becomes thy oath full well, Thou to me thy secrets tell.DorcasMe too, let me go thither.MopsaOr thou goest to the orange or mill.DorcasIf to either, thou dost ill.AutolycusNeither.DorcasWhat, neither?AutolycusNeither.DorcasThou hast sworn my love to be.MopsaThou hast sworn it more to me: Then whither goest? say, whither?ClownWe’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.Exit with Dorcas and MopsaAutolycusAnd you shall pay well for ’em.Follows singingWill you buy any tape, Or lace for your cape, My dainty duck, my dear-a? Any silk, any thread, Any toys for your head, Of the new’st and finest, finest wear-a? Come to the pedlar; Money’s a medler. That doth utter all men’s ware-a.ExitRe-enter ServantServantMaster, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, 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 gallimaufry 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.ShepherdAway! we’ll none on ’t: here has been too much homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you.PolixenesYou weary those that refresh us: pray, let’s see these four threes of herdsmen.ServantOne three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squier.ShepherdLeave your prating: since these good men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now.ServantWhy, they stay at door, sir.ExitHere a dance of twelve SatyrsPolixenesO, father, you’ll know more of that hereafter.To CamilloIs it not too far gone? ‘Tis time to part them. He’s simple and tells much.To FlorizelHow now, fair shepherd! 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 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.FlorizelOld sir, I know She prizes not such trifles as these are: 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 loved! 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 blasts twice o’er.PolixenesWhat follows this? How prettily the young swain seems to wash The hand was fair before! I have put you out: But to your protestation; let me hear What you profess.FlorizelDo, and be witness to ’t.PolixenesAnd this my neighbour too?FlorizelAnd he, and more Than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, 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 them Without her love; for her employ them all; Commend them and condemn them to her service Or to their own perdition.PolixenesFairly offer’d.CamilloThis shows a sound affection.ShepherdBut, my daughter, Say you the like to him?PerditaI cannot speak So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better: By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his.ShepherdTake hands, a bargain! And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to ’t: I give my daughter to him, and will make Her portion equal his.FlorizelO, that must be I’ the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet; Enough then for your wonder. But, come on, Contract us ‘fore these witnesses.ShepherdCome, your hand; And, daughter, yours.PolixenesSoft, swain, awhile, beseech you; Have you a father?FlorizelI have: but what of him?PolixenesKnows he of this?FlorizelHe neither does nor shall.PolixenesMethinks 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 altering rheums? can he speak? hear? Know man from man? dispute his own estate? Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing But what he did being childish?FlorizelNo, good sir; He has his health and ampler strength indeed Than most have of his age.PolixenesBy 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.FlorizelI yield all this; But for some other reasons, my grave sir, Which ’tis not fit you know, I not acquaint My father of this business.PolixenesLet him know’t.FlorizelHe shall not.PolixenesPrithee, let him.FlorizelNo, he must not.ShepherdLet him, my son: he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice.FlorizelCome, come, he must not. Mark our contract.PolixenesMark your divorce, young sir,Discovering himselfWhom son I dare not call; thou art too base To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre’s heir, That thus affect’st 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 copest with,—ShepherdO, my heart!PolixenesI’ll have thy beauty scratch’d with briers, and made More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, 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 succession; Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words: Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time, Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment.— 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.ExitPerditaEven here undone! I was not much afeard; for once or twice I was about to speak and tell him plainly, The selfsame 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.CamilloWhy, how now, father! Speak ere thou diest.ShepherdI 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 me 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 lived To die when I desire.ExitFlorizelWhy look you so upon me? I am but sorry, not afeard; delay’d, But nothing alter’d: what I was, I am; More straining on for plucking back, not following My leash unwillingly.CamilloGracious 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.FlorizelI not purpose it. I think, Camillo?CamilloEven he, my lord.PerditaHow often have I told you ’twould be thus! How often said, my dignity would last But till ’twere known!FlorizelIt 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.CamilloBe advised.FlorizelI am, and by my fancy: if my reason Will thereto be obedient, I have reason; If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, Do bid it welcome.CamilloThis is desperate, sir.FlorizelSo 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 glean’d, for all the sun sees or The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath To this my fair beloved: 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 not 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 whom here I cannot hold on shore; And most opportune to our need I have A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared For this design. What course I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting.CamilloO my lord! I would your spirit were easier for advice, Or stronger for your need.FlorizelHark, PerditaDrawing her asideI’ll hear you by and by.CamilloHe’s irremoveable, Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if His going I could frame to serve my turn, Save him from danger, do him love and honour, Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia And that unhappy king, my master, whom I so much thirst to see.FlorizelNow, good Camillo; I am so fraught with curious business that I leave out ceremony.CamilloSir, I think You have heard of my poor services, i’ the love That I have borne your father?FlorizelVery nobly Have you deserved: it is my father’s music To speak your deeds, not little of his care To have them recompensed as thought on.CamilloWell, my lord, If you may please to think I love the king And through him what is 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 receiving As shall become your highness; where you may Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see, There’s no disjunction to be made, but by— As heavens forefend!—your ruin; marry her, And, with my best endeavours in your absence, Your discontenting father strive to qualify And bring him up to liking.FlorizelHow, Camillo, May this, almost a miracle, be done? That I may call thee something more than man And after that trust to thee.CamilloHave you thought on A place whereto you’ll go?FlorizelNot 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.CamilloThen list to me: This follows, if you will not change your purpose But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia, And there present yourself and your fair princess, 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 forgiveness, As ’twere 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 one He chides to hell and bids the other grow Faster than thought or time.FlorizelWorthy Camillo, What colour for my visitation shall I Hold up before him?CamilloSent 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.FlorizelI am bound to you: There is some sap in this.CamilloA 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 together Affliction alters.PerditaOne of these is true: I think affliction may subdue the cheek, But not take in the mind.CamilloYea, say you so? There shall not at your father’s house these seven years Be born another such.FlorizelMy good Camillo, She is as forward of her breeding as She is i’ the rear our birth.CamilloI cannot say ’tis pity She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress To most that teach.PerditaYour pardon, sir; for this I’ll blush you thanks.FlorizelMy prettiest Perdita! But O, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo, 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.CamilloMy lord, Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes Do all lie there: it shall be so my care To have you royally appointed as if The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, That you may know you shall not want, one word.They talk asideRe-enter AutolycusAutolycusHa, 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, not a ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack 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 remembered. My clown, who wants but something to be 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 pinched a placket, it was senseless; ’twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse; I could have filed 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 picked and cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king’s son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army.Camillo, Florizel, and Perdita come forwardCamilloNay, but my letters, by this means being there So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.FlorizelAnd those that you’ll procure from King Leontes—CamilloShall satisfy your father.PerditaHappy be you! All that you speak shows fair.CamilloWho have we here?Seeing AutolycusWe’ll make an instrument of this, omit Nothing may give us aid.AutolycusIf they have overheard me now, why, hanging.CamilloHow now, good fellow! why shakest thou so? Fear not, man; here’s no harm intended to thee.AutolycusI am a poor fellow, sir.CamilloWhy, 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’s 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.AutolycusI am a poor fellow, sir.AsideI know ye well enough.CamilloNay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half flayed already.AutolycusAre you in earnest, sir?AsideI smell the trick on’t.FlorizelDispatch, I prithee.AutolycusIndeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with conscience take it.CamilloUnbuckle, unbuckle.Florizel and Autolycus exchange garmentsFortunate 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 may— For I do fear eyes over—to shipboard Get undescried.PerditaI see the play so lies That I must bear a part.CamilloNo remedy. Have you done there?FlorizelShould I now meet my father, He would not call me son.CamilloNay, you shall have no hat.Giving it to PerditaCome, lady, come. Farewell, my friend.AutolycusAdieu, sir.FlorizelO Perdita, what have we twain forgot! Pray you, a word.CamilloAsideWhat 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 review Sicilia, for whose sight I have a woman’s longing.FlorizelFortune speed us! Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.CamilloThe swifter speed the better.Exeunt Florizel, Perdita, and CamilloAutolycusI 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 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 any thing extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity, stealing away from his father with his clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not do’t: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it; and therein am I constant to my profession.Re-enter Clown and ShepherdAside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain: every lane’s end, every shop, church, session, hanging, yields a careful man work.ClownSee, see; what a man you are now! There is no other way but to tell the king she’s a changeling and none of your flesh and blood.ShepherdNay, but hear me.ClownNay, but hear me.ShepherdGo to, then.ClownShe being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the king; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show those things you found about her, those secret things, all but what she has with her: this being done, let the law go whistle: I warrant you.ShepherdI will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his son’s pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his father nor to me, to go about to make me the king’s brother-in-law.ClownIndeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you could have been to him and then your blood had been the dearer by I know how much an ounce.AutolycusAsideVery wisely, puppies!ShepherdWell, let us to the king: there is that in this fardel will make him scratch his beard.AutolycusAsideI know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master.ClownPray heartily he be at palace.AutolycusAsideThough I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance: let me pocket up my pedlar’s excrement.Takes off his false beardHow now, rustics! whither are you bound?ShepherdTo the palace, an it like your worship.AutolycusYour affairs there, what, with whom, the condition of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your names, your ages, of what having, breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be known, discover.ClownWe are but plain fellows, sir.AutolycusA lie; you are rough and hairy. Let me have no lying: it becomes none but tradesmen, and they often give us soldiers the lie: but we pay them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel; therefore they do not give us the lie.ClownYour worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner.ShepherdAre you a courtier, an’t like you, sir?AutolycusWhether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? receives not thy nose court-odor from me? reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt? Thinkest thou, for that I insinuate, or toaze from thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier cap-a-pe; and one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there: whereupon I command thee to open thy affair.ShepherdMy business, sir, is to the king.AutolycusWhat advocate hast thou to him?ShepherdI know not, an’t like you.ClownAdvocate’s the court-word for a pheasant: say you have none.ShepherdNone, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen.AutolycusHow blessed are we that are not simple men! Yet nature might have made me as these are, Therefore I will not disdain.ClownThis cannot be but a great courtier.ShepherdHis garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely.ClownHe seems to be the more noble in being fantastical: a great man, I’ll warrant; I know by the picking on’s teeth.AutolycusThe fardel there? what’s i’ the fardel? Wherefore that box?ShepherdSir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box, which none must know but the king; and which he shall know within this hour, if I may come to the speech of him.AutolycusAge, thou hast lost thy labour.ShepherdWhy, sir?AutolycusThe king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy and air himself: for, if thou beest capable of things serious, thou must know the king is full of grief.ShepardSo ’tis said, sir; about his son, that should have married a shepherd’s daughter.AutolycusIf that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly: the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster.ClownThink you so, sir?AutolycusNot he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to him, though removed fifty times, shall all come under the hangman: which though it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whistling rogue a ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be stoned; but that death is too soft for him, say I draw our throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy.ClownHas the old man e’er a son, sir, do you hear. an’t like you, sir?AutolycusHe has a son, who shall be flayed alive; then ’nointed over with honey, set on the head of a wasp’s nest; then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recovered again with aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall be be set against a brick-wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death. But what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled 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 considered, 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.ClownHe 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 ‘stoned,’ and ‘flayed alive.‘ShepherdAn’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.AutolycusAfter I have done what I promised?ShepherdAy, sir.AutolycusWell, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business?ClownIn some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it.AutolycusO, that’s the case of the shepherd’s son: hang him, he’ll be made an example.ClownComfort, good comfort! We must to the king and show our strange sights: he must know ’tis 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.AutolycusI will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side; go on the right hand: I will but look upon the hedge and follow you.ClownWe are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest.ShepherdLet’s before as he bids us: he was provided to do us good.Exeunt Shepherd and ClownAutolycusIf 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 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.Exit
William Shakespeare: Winter’s Tale, Act IV
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