The Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare

Act 4 - Scene 4

The Shepherd’s cottage.

Florizel : These your unusual weeds to each part of you [p]Do give a life: no
shepherdess, but Flora [p]Peering in April's front. This your
sheep-shearing [p]Is as a meeting of the petty gods, [p]And you the
queen on't.

Perdita : Sir, my gracious lord, [p]To chide at your extremes it not becomes
me: [p]O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self, [p]The gracious
mark o' the land, you have obscured [p]With a swain's wearing, and me,
poor lowly maid, [p]Most goddess-like prank'd up: but that our
feasts [p]In every mess have folly and the feeders [p]Digest it with a
custom, I should blush [p]To see you so attired, sworn, I think, [p]To
show myself a glass.

Florizel : I bless the time [p]When my good falcon made her flight across [p]Thy
father's ground.

Perdita : Now Jove afford you cause! [p]To me the difference forges dread; your
greatness [p]Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble [p]To
think your father, by some accident, [p]Should pass this way as you
did: O, the Fates! [p]How would he look, to see his work so
noble [p]Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how [p]Should I, in
these my borrow'd flaunts, behold [p]The sternness of his presence?

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

Perdita : O, but, sir, [p]Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis [p]Opposed, as
it must be, by the power of the king: [p]One of these two must be
necessities, [p]Which then will speak, that you must [p]change this
purpose, [p]Or I my life.

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

Perdita : O lady Fortune, [p]Stand you auspicious!

Florizel : See, your guests approach: [p]Address yourself to entertain them
sprightly, [p]And let's be red with mirth. [p][Enter Shepherd, Clown,
MOPSA, DORCAS, and] [p]others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised]

Old Shepherd : Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon [p]This day she was both
pantler, butler, cook, [p]Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served
all; [p]Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here, [p]At upper
end o' the table, now i' the middle; [p]On his shoulder, and his; her
face o' fire [p]With labour and the thing she took to quench
it, [p]She would to each one sip. You are retired, [p]As if you were a
feasted one and not [p]The hostess of the meeting: pray you,
bid [p]These unknown friends to's welcome; for it is [p]A way to make
us better friends, more known. [p]Come, quench your blushes and
present yourself [p]That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come
on, [p]And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, [p]As your good
flock shall prosper.

Perdita : [To POLIXENES] Sir, welcome: [p]It is my father's will I should take
on me [p]The hostess-ship o' the day. [p][To CAMILLO] [p]You're
welcome, sir. [p]Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend
sirs, [p]For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep [p]Seeming and
savour all the winter long: [p]Grace and remembrance be to you
both, [p]And welcome to our shearing!

Polixenes : Shepherdess, [p]A fair one are you--well you fit our ages [p]With
flowers of winter.

Perdita : Sir, the year growing ancient, [p]Not yet on summer's death, nor on
the birth [p]Of trembling winter, the fairest [p]flowers o' the
season [p]Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, [p]Which some
call nature's bastards: of that kind [p]Our rustic garden's barren;
and I care not [p]To get slips of them.

Polixenes : Wherefore, gentle maiden, [p]Do you neglect them?

Perdita : For I have heard it said [p]There is an art which in their piedness
shares [p]With great creating nature.

Polixenes : Say there be; [p]Yet nature is made better by no mean [p]But nature
makes that mean: so, over that art [p]Which you say adds to nature, is
an art [p]That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry [p]A
gentler scion to the wildest stock, [p]And make conceive a bark of
baser kind [p]By bud of nobler race: this is an art [p]Which does mend
nature, change it rather, but [p]The art itself is nature.

Perdita : So it is.

Polixenes : Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, [p]And do not call them
bastards.

Perdita : I'll not put [p]The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; [p]No
more than were I painted I would wish [p]This youth should say 'twere
well and only therefore [p]Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for
you; [p]Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; [p]The marigold, that
goes to bed wi' the sun [p]And with him rises weeping: these are
flowers [p]Of middle summer, and I think they are given [p]To men of
middle age. You're very welcome.

Camillo : I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, [p]And only live by
gazing.

Perdita : Out, alas! [p]You'd be so lean, that blasts of January [p]Would blow
you through and through. [p]Now, my fair'st friend, [p]I would I had
some flowers o' the spring that might [p]Become your time of day; and
yours, and yours, [p]That wear upon your virgin branches yet [p]Your
maidenheads growing: O Proserpina, [p]For the flowers now, that
frighted thou let'st fall [p]From Dis's waggon! daffodils, [p]That
come before the swallow dares, and take [p]The winds of March with
beauty; violets dim, [p]But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes [p]Or
Cytherea's breath; pale primroses [p]That die unmarried, ere they can
behold [p]Bight Phoebus in his strength--a malady [p]Most incident to
maids; bold oxlips and [p]The crown imperial; lilies of all
kinds, [p]The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, [p]To make
you garlands of, and my sweet friend, [p]To strew him o'er and o'er!

Florizel : What, like a corse?

Perdita : No, like a bank for love to lie and play on; [p]Not like a corse; or
if, not to be buried, [p]But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your
flowers: [p]Methinks I play as I have seen them do [p]In Whitsun
pastorals: sure this robe of mine [p]Does change my disposition.

Florizel : What you do [p]Still betters what is done. When you speak,
sweet. [p]I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing, [p]I'ld have you
buy and sell so, so give alms, [p]Pray so; and, for the ordering your
affairs, [p]To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you [p]A wave
o' the sea, that you might ever do [p]Nothing but that; move still,
still so, [p]And own no other function: each your doing, [p]So
singular in each particular, [p]Crowns what you are doing in the
present deed, [p]That all your acts are queens.

Perdita : O Doricles, [p]Your praises are too large: but that your youth, [p]And
the true blood which peepeth fairly through't, [p]Do plainly give you
out an unstain'd shepherd, [p]With wisdom I might fear, my
Doricles, [p]You woo'd me the false way.

Florizel : I think you have [p]As little skill to fear as I have purpose [p]To
put you to't. But come; our dance, I pray: [p]Your hand, my Perdita:
so turtles pair, [p]That never mean to part.

Perdita : I'll swear for 'em.

Polixenes : This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever [p]Ran on the
green-sward: nothing she does or seems [p]But smacks of something
greater than herself, [p]Too noble for this place.

Camillo : He tells her something [p]That makes her blood look out: good sooth,
she is [p]The queen of curds and cream.

Clown : Come on, strike up!

Dorcas : Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, [p]To mend her kissing
with!

Mopsa : Now, in good time!

Clown : Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. [p]Come, strike
up! [p][Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and] [p]Shepherdesses]

Polixenes : Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this [p]Which dances with your
daughter?

Old Shepherd : They call him Doricles; and boasts himself [p]To have a worthy
feeding: but I have it [p]Upon his own report and I believe it; [p]He
looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter: [p]I think so too; for
never gazed the moon [p]Upon the water as he'll stand and read [p]As
'twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain. [p]I think there is not
half a kiss to choose [p]Who loves another best.

Polixenes : She dances featly.

Old Shepherd : So she does any thing; though I report it, [p]That should be silent:
if young Doricles [p]Do light upon her, she shall bring him
that [p]Which he not dreams of.

Servant : O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the [p]door, you would
never dance again after a tabour and [p]pipe; no, the bagpipe could
not move you: he sings [p]several tunes faster than you'll tell money;
he [p]utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's [p]ears grew
to his tunes.

Clown : He could never come better; he shall come in. I [p]love a ballad but
even too well, if it be doleful [p]matter merrily set down, or a very
pleasant thing [p]indeed and sung lamentably.

Servant : He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes; no [p]milliner can so
fit his customers with gloves: he [p]has the prettiest love-songs for
maids; so without [p]bawdry, which is strange; with such
delicate [p]burthens of dildos and fadings, 'jump her and
thump [p]her;' and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would, [p]as it
were, mean mischief and break a foul gap into [p]the matter, he makes
the maid to answer 'Whoop, do me [p]no harm, good man;' puts him off,
slights him, with [p]'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.'

Polixenes : This is a brave fellow.

Clown : Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited [p]fellow. Has he
any unbraided wares?

Servant : He hath ribbons of an the colours i' the rainbow; [p]points more than
all the lawyers in Bohemia can [p]learnedly handle, though they come
to him by the [p]gross: inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why,
he [p]sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses; you [p]would
think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants [p]to the sleeve-hand and
the work about the square on't.

Clown : Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing.

Perdita : Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in 's tunes.

Clown : You have of these pedlars, that have more in them [p]than you'ld
think, sister.

Perdita : Ay, good brother, or go about to think.

Autolycus : Lawn as white as driven snow; [p]Cyprus black as e'er was
crow; [p]Gloves as sweet as damask roses; [p]Masks for faces and for
noses; [p]Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, [p]Perfume for a lady's
chamber; [p]Golden quoifs and stomachers, [p]For my lads to give their
dears: [p]Pins and poking-sticks of steel, [p]What maids lack from
head to heel: [p]Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; [p]Buy
lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy.

Clown : If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take [p]no money of
me; but being enthralled as I am, it [p]will also be the bondage of
certain ribbons and gloves.

Mopsa : I was promised them against the feast; but they come [p]not too late
now.

Dorcas : He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.

Mopsa : He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has [p]paid you more,
which will shame you to give him again.

Clown : Is there no manners left among maids? will they [p]wear their plackets
where they should bear their [p]faces? Is there not milking-time, when
you are [p]going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off
these [p]secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all [p]our
guests? 'tis well they are whispering: clamour [p]your tongues, and
not a word more.

Mopsa : I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace [p]and a pair of
sweet gloves.

Clown : Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way [p]and lost all my
money?

Autolycus : And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; [p]therefore it behoves
men to be wary.

Clown : Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.

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

Clown : What hast here? ballads?

Mopsa : Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o' [p]life, for then we
are sure they are true.

Autolycus : Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's [p]wife was brought
to bed of twenty money-bags at a [p]burthen and how she longed to eat
adders' heads and [p]toads carbonadoed.

Mopsa : Is it true, think you?

Autolycus : Very true, and but a month old.

Dorcas : Bless me from marrying a usurer!

Autolycus : Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress [p]Tale-porter, and five
or six honest wives that were [p]present. Why should I carry lies
abroad?

Mopsa : Pray you now, buy it.

Clown : Come on, lay it by: and let's first see moe [p]ballads; we'll buy the
other things anon.

Autolycus : Here's another ballad of a fish, that appeared upon [p]the coast on
Wednesday the four-score of April, [p]forty thousand fathom above
water, and sung this [p]ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it
was [p]thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold [p]fish for
she would not exchange flesh with one that [p]loved her: the ballad is
very pitiful and as true.

Dorcas : Is it true too, think you?

Autolycus : Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than [p]my pack will
hold.

Clown : Lay it by too: another.

Autolycus : This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.

Mopsa : Let's have some merry ones.

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

Mopsa : We can both sing it: if thou'lt bear a part, thou [p]shalt hear; 'tis
in three parts.

Dorcas : We had the tune on't a month ago.

Autolycus : I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my [p]occupation; have at it
with you.

Autolycus : Get you hence, for I must go [p]Where it fits not you to know.

Dorcas : Whither?

Mopsa : O, whither?

Dorcas : Whither?

Mopsa : It becomes thy oath full well, [p]Thou to me thy secrets tell.

Dorcas : Me too, let me go thither.

Mopsa : Or thou goest to the orange or mill.

Dorcas : If to either, thou dost ill.

Autolycus : Neither.

Dorcas : What, neither?

Autolycus : Neither.

Dorcas : Thou hast sworn my love to be.

Mopsa : Thou hast sworn it more to me: [p]Then whither goest? say, whither?

Clown : We'll have this song out anon by ourselves: my [p]father and the
gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll [p]not trouble them. Come, bring
away thy pack after [p]me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. Pedlar,
let's [p]have the first choice. Follow me, girls.

Autolycus : And you shall pay well for 'em. [p][Follows singing] [p]Will you buy
any tape, [p]Or lace for your cape, [p]My dainty duck, my
dear-a? [p]Any silk, any thread, [p]Any toys for your head, [p]Of the
new'st and finest, finest wear-a? [p]Come to the pedlar; [p]Money's a
medler. [p]That doth utter all men's ware-a.

Servant : Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, [p]three neat-herds,
three swine-herds, that have made [p]themselves all men of hair, they
call themselves [p]Saltiers, and they have a dance which the
wenches [p]say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are [p]not
in't; but they themselves are o' the mind, if it [p]be not too rough
for some that know little but [p]bowling, it will please plentifully.

Old Shepherd : Away! we'll none on 't: here has been too much [p]homely foolery
already. I know, sir, we weary you.

Polixenes : You weary those that refresh us: pray, let's see [p]these four threes
of herdsmen.

Servant : One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath [p]danced before the
king; and not the worst of the [p]three but jumps twelve foot and a
half by the squier.

Old Shepherd : Leave your prating: since these good men are [p]pleased, let them come
in; but quickly now.

Servant : Why, they stay at door, sir.

Polixenes : O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter. [p][To CAMILLO] [p]Is
it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them. [p]He's simple and tells
much. [p][To FLORIZEL] [p]How now, fair shepherd! [p]Your heart is
full of something that does take [p]Your mind from feasting. Sooth,
when I was young [p]And handed love as you do, I was wont [p]To load
my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd [p]The pedlar's silken
treasury and have pour'd it [p]To her acceptance; you have let him
go [p]And nothing marted with him. If your lass [p]Interpretation
should abuse and call this [p]Your lack of love or bounty, you were
straited [p]For a reply, at least if you make a care [p]Of happy
holding her.

Florizel : Old sir, I know [p]She prizes not such trifles as these are: [p]The
gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd [p]Up in my heart; which
I have given already, [p]But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my
life [p]Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, [p]Hath sometime
loved! I take thy hand, this hand, [p]As soft as dove's down and as
white as it, [p]Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd [p]snow that's
bolted [p]By the northern blasts twice o'er.

Polixenes : What follows this? [p]How prettily the young swain seems to
wash [p]The hand was fair before! I have put you out: [p]But to your
protestation; let me hear [p]What you profess.

Florizel : Do, and be witness to 't.

Polixenes : And this my neighbour too?

Florizel : And he, and more [p]Than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, and
all: [p]That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, [p]Thereof
most worthy, were I the fairest youth [p]That ever made eye swerve,
had force and knowledge [p]More than was ever man's, I would not prize
them [p]Without her love; for her employ them all; [p]Commend them and
condemn them to her service [p]Or to their own perdition.

Polixenes : Fairly offer'd.

Camillo : This shows a sound affection.

Old Shepherd : But, my daughter, [p]Say you the like to him?

Perdita : I cannot speak [p]So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better: [p]By
the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out [p]The purity of his.

Old Shepherd : Take hands, a bargain! [p]And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness
to 't: [p]I give my daughter to him, and will make [p]Her portion
equal his.

Florizel : O, that must be [p]I' the virtue of your daughter: one being
dead, [p]I shall have more than you can dream of yet; [p]Enough then
for your wonder. But, come on, [p]Contract us 'fore these witnesses.

Old Shepherd : Come, your hand; [p]And, daughter, yours.

Polixenes : Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; [p]Have you a father?

Florizel : I have: but what of him?

Polixenes : Knows he of this?

Florizel : He neither does nor shall.

Polixenes : Methinks a father [p]Is at the nuptial of his son a guest [p]That best
becomes the table. Pray you once more, [p]Is not your father grown
incapable [p]Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid [p]With age and
altering rheums? can he speak? hear? [p]Know man from man? dispute his
own estate? [p]Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing [p]But what
he did being childish?

Florizel : No, good sir; [p]He has his health and ampler strength indeed [p]Than
most have of his age.

Polixenes : By my white beard, [p]You offer him, if this be so, a
wrong [p]Something unfilial: reason my son [p]Should choose himself a
wife, but as good reason [p]The father, all whose joy is nothing
else [p]But fair posterity, should hold some counsel [p]In such a
business.

Florizel : I yield all this; [p]But for some other reasons, my grave
sir, [p]Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint [p]My father of
this business.

Polixenes : Let him know't.

Florizel : He shall not.

Polixenes : Prithee, let him.

Florizel : No, he must not.

Old Shepherd : Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve [p]At knowing of thy
choice.

Florizel : Come, come, he must not. [p]Mark our contract.

Polixenes : Mark your divorce, young sir, [p][Discovering himself] [p]Whom son I
dare not call; thou art too base [p]To be acknowledged: thou a
sceptre's heir, [p]That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! Thou old
traitor, [p]I am sorry that by hanging thee I can [p]But shorten thy
life one week. And thou, fresh piece [p]Of excellent witchcraft, who
of force must know [p]The royal fool thou copest with,--

Old Shepherd : O, my heart!

Polixenes : I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made [p]More homely
than thy state. For thee, fond boy, [p]If I may ever know thou dost
but sigh [p]That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never [p]I mean
thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succession; [p]Not hold thee of our
blood, no, not our kin, [p]Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my
words: [p]Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time, [p]Though
full of our displeasure, yet we free thee [p]From the dead blow of it.
And you, enchantment.-- [p]Worthy enough a herdsman: yea, him
too, [p]That makes himself, but for our honour therein, [p]Unworthy
thee,--if ever henceforth thou [p]These rural latches to his entrance
open, [p]Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, [p]I will devise a
death as cruel for thee [p]As thou art tender to't.

Perdita : Even here undone! [p]I was not much afeard; for once or twice [p]I was
about to speak and tell him plainly, [p]The selfsame sun that shines
upon his court [p]Hides not his visage from our cottage but [p]Looks
on alike. Will't please you, sir, be gone? [p]I told you what would
come of this: beseech you, [p]Of your own state take care: this dream
of mine,-- [p]Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther, [p]But
milk my ewes and weep.

Camillo : Why, how now, father! [p]Speak ere thou diest.

Old Shepherd : I cannot speak, nor think [p]Nor dare to know that which I know. O
sir! [p]You have undone a man of fourscore three, [p]That thought to
fill his grave in quiet, yea, [p]To die upon the bed my father
died, [p]To lie close by his honest bones: but now [p]Some hangman
must put on my shroud and lay me [p]Where no priest shovels in dust. O
cursed wretch, [p]That knew'st this was the prince, [p]and wouldst
adventure [p]To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone! [p]If I might
die within this hour, I have lived [p]To die when I desire.

Florizel : Why look you so upon me? [p]I am but sorry, not afeard;
delay'd, [p]But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am; [p]More straining
on for plucking back, not following [p]My leash unwillingly.

Camillo : Gracious my lord, [p]You know your father's temper: at this time [p]He
will allow no speech, which I do guess [p]You do not purpose to him;
and as hardly [p]Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear: [p]Then,
till the fury of his highness settle, [p]Come not before him.

Florizel : I not purpose it. [p]I think, Camillo?

Camillo : Even he, my lord.

Perdita : How often have I told you 'twould be thus! [p]How often said, my
dignity would last [p]But till 'twere known!

Florizel : It cannot fail but by [p]The violation of my faith; and then [p]Let
nature crush the sides o' the earth together [p]And mar the seeds
within! Lift up thy looks: [p]From my succession wipe me, father;
I [p]Am heir to my affection.

Camillo : Be advised.

Florizel : I am, and by my fancy: if my reason [p]Will thereto be obedient, I
have reason; [p]If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, [p]Do
bid it welcome.

Camillo : This is desperate, sir.

Florizel : So call it: but it does fulfil my vow; [p]I needs must think it
honesty. Camillo, [p]Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may [p]Be
thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or [p]The close earth wombs or
the profound sea hides [p]In unknown fathoms, will I break my
oath [p]To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you, [p]As you have
ever been my father's honour'd friend, [p]When he shall miss me,--as,
in faith, I mean not [p]To see him any more,--cast your good
counsels [p]Upon his passion; let myself and fortune [p]Tug for the
time to come. This you may know [p]And so deliver, I am put to
sea [p]With her whom here I cannot hold on shore; [p]And most
opportune to our need I have [p]A vessel rides fast by, but not
prepared [p]For this design. What course I mean to hold [p]Shall
nothing benefit your knowledge, nor [p]Concern me the reporting.

Camillo : O my lord! [p]I would your spirit were easier for advice, [p]Or
stronger for your need.

Florizel : Hark, Perdita [p][Drawing her aside] [p]I'll hear you by and by.

Camillo : He's irremoveable, [p]Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if [p]His
going I could frame to serve my turn, [p]Save him from danger, do him
love and honour, [p]Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia [p]And
that unhappy king, my master, whom [p]I so much thirst to see.

Florizel : Now, good Camillo; [p]I am so fraught with curious business that [p]I
leave out ceremony.

Camillo : Sir, I think [p]You have heard of my poor services, i' the
love [p]That I have borne your father?

Florizel : Very nobly [p]Have you deserved: it is my father's music [p]To speak
your deeds, not little of his care [p]To have them recompensed as
thought on.

Camillo : Well, my lord, [p]If you may please to think I love the king [p]And
through him what is nearest to him, which is [p]Your gracious self,
embrace but my direction: [p]If your more ponderous and settled
project [p]May suffer alteration, on mine honour, [p]I'll point you
where you shall have such receiving [p]As shall become your highness;
where you may [p]Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see, [p]There's
no disjunction to be made, but by-- [p]As heavens forefend!--your
ruin; marry her, [p]And, with my best endeavours in your
absence, [p]Your discontenting father strive to qualify [p]And bring
him up to liking.

Florizel : How, Camillo, [p]May this, almost a miracle, be done? [p]That I may
call thee something more than man [p]And after that trust to thee.

Camillo : Have you thought on [p]A place whereto you'll go?

Florizel : Not any yet: [p]But as the unthought-on accident is guilty [p]To what
we wildly do, so we profess [p]Ourselves to be the slaves of chance
and flies [p]Of every wind that blows.

Camillo : Then list to me: [p]This follows, if you will not change your
purpose [p]But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia, [p]And there
present yourself and your fair princess, [p]For so I see she must be,
'fore Leontes: [p]She shall be habited as it becomes [p]The partner of
your bed. Methinks I see [p]Leontes opening his free arms and
weeping [p]His welcomes forth; asks thee the son forgiveness, [p]As
'twere i' the father's person; kisses the hands [p]Of your fresh
princess; o'er and o'er divides him [p]'Twixt his unkindness and his
kindness; the one [p]He chides to hell and bids the other
grow [p]Faster than thought or time.

Florizel : Worthy Camillo, [p]What colour for my visitation shall I [p]Hold up
before him?

Camillo : Sent by the king your father [p]To greet him and to give him comforts.
Sir, [p]The manner of your bearing towards him, with [p]What you as
from your father shall deliver, [p]Things known betwixt us three, I'll
write you down: [p]The which shall point you forth at every
sitting [p]What you must say; that he shall not perceive [p]But that
you have your father's bosom there [p]And speak his very heart.

Florizel : I am bound to you: [p]There is some sap in this.

Camillo : A cause more promising [p]Than a wild dedication of yourselves [p]To
unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most certain [p]To miseries enough;
no hope to help you, [p]But as you shake off one to take
another; [p]Nothing so certain as your anchors, who [p]Do their best
office, if they can but stay you [p]Where you'll be loath to be:
besides you know [p]Prosperity's the very bond of love, [p]Whose fresh
complexion and whose heart together [p]Affliction alters.

Perdita : One of these is true: [p]I think affliction may subdue the
cheek, [p]But not take in the mind.

Camillo : Yea, say you so? [p]There shall not at your father's house
these [p]seven years [p]Be born another such.

Florizel : My good Camillo, [p]She is as forward of her breeding as [p]She is i'
the rear our birth.

Camillo : I cannot say 'tis pity [p]She lacks instructions, for she seems a
mistress [p]To most that teach.

Perdita : Your pardon, sir; for this [p]I'll blush you thanks.

Florizel : My prettiest Perdita! [p]But O, the thorns we stand upon!
Camillo, [p]Preserver of my father, now of me, [p]The medicine of our
house, how shall we do? [p]We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's
son, [p]Nor shall appear in Sicilia.

Camillo : My lord, [p]Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes [p]Do all
lie there: it shall be so my care [p]To have you royally appointed as
if [p]The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, [p]That you may
know you shall not want, one word.

Autolycus : Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his [p]sworn brother, a
very simple gentleman! I have sold [p]all my trumpery; not a
counterfeit stone, not a [p]ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch,
table-book, ballad, [p]knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet,
horn-ring, [p]to keep my pack from fasting: they throng who [p]should
buy first, as if my trinkets had been [p]hallowed and brought a
benediction to the buyer: [p]by which means I saw whose purse was best
in [p]picture; and what I saw, to my good use I [p]remembered. My
clown, who wants but something to [p]be a reasonable man, grew so in
love with the [p]wenches' song, that he would not stir his
pettitoes [p]till he had both tune and words; which so drew
the [p]rest of the herd to me that all their other senses [p]stuck in
ears: you might have pinched a placket, it [p]was senseless; 'twas
nothing to geld a codpiece of a [p]purse; I could have filed keys off
that hung in [p]chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's
song, [p]and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this [p]time of
lethargy I picked and cut most of their [p]festival purses; and had
not the old man come in [p]with a whoo-bub against his daughter and
the king's [p]son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had
not [p]left a purse alive in the whole army.

Camillo : Nay, but my letters, by this means being there [p]So soon as you
arrive, shall clear that doubt.

Florizel : And those that you'll procure from King Leontes--

Camillo : Shall satisfy your father.

Perdita : Happy be you! [p]All that you speak shows fair.

Camillo : Who have we here? [p][Seeing AUTOLYCUS] [p]We'll make an instrument of
this, omit [p]Nothing may give us aid.

Autolycus : If they have overheard me now, why, hanging.

Camillo : How now, good fellow! why shakest thou so? Fear [p]not, man; here's no
harm intended to thee.

Autolycus : I am a poor fellow, sir.

Camillo : Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from [p]thee: yet for
the outside of thy poverty we must [p]make an exchange; therefore
discase thee instantly, [p]--thou must think there's a necessity
in't,--and [p]change garments with this gentleman: though
the [p]pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, [p]there's
some boot.

Autolycus : I am a poor fellow, sir. [p][Aside] [p]I know ye well enough.

Camillo : Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half [p]flayed already.

Autolycus : Are you in earnest, sir? [p][Aside] [p]I smell the trick on't.

Florizel : Dispatch, I prithee.

Autolycus : Indeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with [p]conscience take it.

Camillo : Unbuckle, unbuckle. [p][FLORIZEL and AUTOLYCUS exchange
garments] [p]Fortunate mistress,--let my prophecy [p]Come home to
ye!--you must retire yourself [p]Into some covert: take your
sweetheart's hat [p]And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your
face, [p]Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken [p]The truth of your
own seeming; that you may-- [p]For I do fear eyes over--to
shipboard [p]Get undescried.

Perdita : I see the play so lies [p]That I must bear a part.

Camillo : No remedy. [p]Have you done there?

Florizel : Should I now meet my father, [p]He would not call me son.

Camillo : Nay, you shall have no hat. [p][Giving it to PERDITA] [p]Come, lady,
come. Farewell, my friend.

Autolycus : Adieu, sir.

Florizel : O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! [p]Pray you, a word.

Camillo : [Aside] What I do next, shall be to tell the king [p]Of this escape
and whither they are bound; [p]Wherein my hope is I shall so
prevail [p]To force him after: in whose company [p]I shall review
Sicilia, for whose sight [p]I have a woman's longing.

Florizel : Fortune speed us! [p]Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.

Camillo : The swifter speed the better.

Autolycus : I understand the business, I hear it: to have an [p]open ear, a quick
eye, and a nimble hand, is [p]necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose
is requisite [p]also, to smell out work for the other senses. I
see [p]this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. [p]What an
exchange had this been without boot! What [p]a boot is here with this
exchange! Sure the gods do [p]this year connive at us, and we may do
any thing [p]extempore. The prince himself is about a piece
of [p]iniquity, stealing away from his father with his [p]clog at his
heels: if I thought it were a piece of [p]honesty to acquaint the king
withal, I would not [p]do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal
it; [p]and therein am I constant to my profession. [p][Re-enter Clown
and Shepherd] [p]Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot
brain: [p]every lane's end, every shop, church, session, [p]hanging,
yields a careful man work.

Clown : See, see; what a man you are now! [p]There is no other way but to tell
the king [p]she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood.

Old Shepherd : Nay, but hear me.

Clown : Nay, but hear me.

Old Shepherd : Go to, then.

Clown : She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh [p]and blood has
not offended the king; and so your [p]flesh and blood is not to be
punished by him. Show [p]those things you found about her, those
secret [p]things, all but what she has with her: this being [p]done,
let the law go whistle: I warrant you.

Old Shepherd : I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his [p]son's pranks
too; who, I may say, is no honest man, [p]neither to his father nor to
me, to go about to make [p]me the king's brother-in-law.

Clown : Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you [p]could have been to
him and then your blood had been [p]the dearer by I know how much an
ounce.

Autolycus : [Aside] Very wisely, puppies!

Old Shepherd : Well, let us to the king: there is that in this [p]fardel will make
him scratch his beard.

Autolycus : [Aside] I know not what impediment this complaint [p]may be to the
flight of my master.

Clown : Pray heartily he be at palace.

Autolycus : [Aside] Though I am not naturally honest, I am so [p]sometimes by
chance: let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement. [p][Takes off his
false beard] [p]How now, rustics! whither are you bound?

Old Shepherd : To the palace, an it like your worship.

Autolycus : Your affairs there, what, with whom, the condition [p]of that fardel,
the place of your dwelling, your [p]names, your ages, of what having,
breeding, and any [p]thing that is fitting to be known, discover.

Clown : We are but plain fellows, sir.

Autolycus : A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let me have no [p]lying: it becomes
none but tradesmen, and they [p]often give us soldiers the lie: but we
pay them for [p]it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel;
therefore [p]they do not give us the lie.

Clown : Your worship had like to have given us one, if you [p]had not taken
yourself with the manner.

Old Shepherd : Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir?

Autolycus : Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest [p]thou not the air
of the court in these enfoldings? [p]hath not my gait in it the
measure of the court? [p]receives not thy nose court-odor from me?
reflect I [p]not on thy baseness court-contempt? Thinkest thou, [p]for
that I insinuate, or toaze from thee thy [p]business, I am therefore
no courtier? I am courtier [p]cap-a-pe; and one that will either push
on or pluck [p]back thy business there: whereupon I command thee
to [p]open thy affair.

Old Shepherd : My business, sir, is to the king.

Autolycus : What advocate hast thou to him?

Old Shepherd : I know not, an't like you.

Clown : Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant: say you [p]have none.

Old Shepherd : None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen.

Autolycus : How blessed are we that are not simple men! [p]Yet nature might have
made me as these are, [p]Therefore I will not disdain.

Clown : This cannot be but a great courtier.

Old Shepherd : His garments are rich, but he wears [p]them not handsomely.

Clown : He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical: [p]a great man,
I'll warrant; I know by the picking [p]on's teeth.

Autolycus : The fardel there? what's i' the fardel? [p]Wherefore that box?

Old Shepherd : Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box, [p]which none
must know but the king; and which he [p]shall know within this hour,
if I may come to the [p]speech of him.

Autolycus : Age, thou hast lost thy labour.

Old Shepherd : Why, sir?

Autolycus : The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a [p]new ship to
purge melancholy and air himself: for, [p]if thou beest capable of
things serious, thou must [p]know the king is full of grief.

Old Shepherd : So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that should have [p]married a
shepherd's daughter.

Autolycus : If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly: [p]the curses he
shall have, the tortures he shall [p]feel, will break the back of man,
the heart of monster.

Clown : Think you so, sir?

Autolycus : Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy [p]and vengeance
bitter; but those that are germane to [p]him, though removed fifty
times, shall all come [p]under the hangman: which though it be great
pity, [p]yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whistling rogue
a [p]ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into [p]grace!
Some say he shall be stoned; but that death [p]is too soft for him,
say I. draw our throne into a [p]sheep-cote! all deaths are too few,
the sharpest too easy.

Clown : Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear. an't [p]like you, sir?

Autolycus : He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; then [p]'nointed over with
honey, set on the head of a [p]wasp's nest; then stand till he be
three quarters [p]and a dram dead; then recovered again
with [p]aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as [p]he is,
and in the hottest day prognostication [p]proclaims, shall be be set
against a brick-wall, the [p]sun looking with a southward eye upon
him, where he [p]is to behold him with flies blown to death. But
what [p]talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries [p]are to
be smiled at, their offences being so [p]capital? Tell me, for you
seem to be honest plain [p]men, what you have to the king: being
something [p]gently considered, I'll bring you where he is [p]aboard,
tender your persons to his presence, [p]whisper him in your behalfs;
and if it be in man [p]besides the king to effect your suits, here is
man [p]shall do it.

Clown : He seems to be of great authority: close with him, [p]give him gold;
and though authority be a stubborn [p]bear, yet he is oft led by the
nose with gold: show [p]the inside of your purse to the outside of his
hand, [p]and no more ado. Remember 'stoned,' and 'flayed alive.'

Old Shepherd : An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for [p]us, here is
that gold I have: I'll make it as much [p]more and leave this young
man in pawn till I bring it you.

Autolycus : After I have done what I promised?

Old Shepherd : Ay, sir.

Autolycus : Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business?

Clown : In some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful [p]one, I hope I
shall not be flayed out of it.

Autolycus : O, that's the case of the shepherd's son: hang him, [p]he'll be made
an example.

Clown : Comfort, good comfort! We must to the king and show [p]our strange
sights: he must know 'tis none of your [p]daughter nor my sister; we
are gone else. Sir, I [p]will give you as much as this old man does
when the [p]business is performed, and remain, as he says,
your [p]pawn till it be brought you.

Autolycus : I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side; [p]go on the right
hand: I will but look upon the [p]hedge and follow you.

Clown : We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest.

Old Shepherd : Let's before as he bids us: he was provided to do us good.

Autolycus : If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would [p]not suffer me:
she drops booties in my mouth. I am [p]courted now with a double
occasion, gold and a means [p]to do the prince my master good; which
who knows how [p]that may turn back to my advancement? I will
bring [p]these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him: if he [p]think
it fit to shore them again and that the [p]complaint they have to the
king concerns him [p]nothing, let him call me rogue for being so
far [p]officious; for I am proof against that title and [p]what shame
else belongs to't. To him will I present [p]them: there may be matter
in it.

Previous: Act 4 - Scene 3

Next: Act 5 - Scene 1

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