color the warden pies;1 mace,-dates,-none; that's out of my note; nutmegs, seven; a race, or two, of ginger; but that I may beg;-four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o'the sun.

Aut. O that ever I was born!

Clo. I'the name of me,—

[Grovelling on the ground.

Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death!

Clo. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.

Aut. O, sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received; which are mighty ones and millions.

Clo. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter.

Aut. I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?

Aut. A foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man.

Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments he hath left with thee; if this be a horse-man's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand; I'll help thee! come, lend me thy hand.

Aut. O, good sir, tenderly, oh!

Clo. Alas, poor soul!

[Helping him up.

Aut. O, good sir, softly, good sir. I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out.

Clo. How now? canst stand?

Aut. Softly, dear sir; [Picks his pocket.] good sir, softly. You ha' done me a charitable office.

Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a little money

for thee.

1 Wardens are a large sort of pear, called in French Poires de Garde, because, being a late, hard pear, they may be kept very long. It is said that their name is derived from the Anglo-Saxon wearden, to preserve. They are now called baking-pears, and are generally colored with cochineal instead of saffron, as of old.

Aut. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir; I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want. Offer me no money, I pray you;

that kills my heart.1

Clo. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you?

Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my dames. I knew him once a servant of the prince; I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the

court.

Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court. They cherish it, to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide.3

Aut. Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue. Some call him Autolycus.

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 looked big, and spit at him, he'd have

run.

Aut. I must confess 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?

1 Dame Quickly, speaking of Falstaff, says "The king hath killed his heart."

2 "Trol-my dames." The old English title of this game was pigeonholes; as the arches in the board through which the balls are to be rolled resemble the cavities made for pigeons in a dove-house.

3 "Abide," only sojourn, or dwell for a time.

4 "He compassed a motion," &c.; he obtained a puppet-show, &c. 5 Prig, another cant phrase for the order of thieves.

Aut. Sweet sir, 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-faced sir! no, sweet sir.

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

Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir!-[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 shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled,' and my name put in the book of virtue!

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent 2 the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit.

SCENE III. The same. A Shepherd's Cottage.

Enter FLORIZEL and PERDita.

Flo. These your unusual weeds to each

part of

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.

Per. Sir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extremes, it not becomes me; O, pardon, that I name them. Your high self, The gracious mark3 o'the land, you have obscured With a swain's wearing; and me, poor, lowly maid, Most goddesslike pranked up. But that our feasts In every mess have folly, and the feeders

1 i. e. dismissed from the society of rogues.

you

2 To hent the stile is to take the stile. It comes from the Saxon hentan. 3 The gracious mark of the land is the object of all men's notice and expectation.

Digest it with a custom, I should blush
To see you so attired; sworn, I think,
To show myself a glass.

Flo.

I bless the time, When my good falcon made her flight across

Thy father's ground.

Now Jove afford

Per.
you cause!
To me, the difference1 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 borrowed flaunts, behold
The sternness 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 bellowed; 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 honor; nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.

Per.

O, but, dear sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis

Opposed, as it must be, by the power o' the king:
One of these two must be necessities,

Which then will speak; that you must change this purpose,

Or I my life.

Flo.

Thou dearest Perdita,

With these forced 3 thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair,

1 Meaning the difference between his rank and hers.

2 Dear is wanting in the oldest copy.

3 i. e. far-fetched, not arising from present objects.

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.

Per.

Stand you auspicious!

O lady Fortune,

Enter Shepherd, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO, disguised; Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others.

Flo.

See, your guests approach:

Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,

And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Fie, 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 labor; 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 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-shearing,

As your good flock shall prosper.

Per.

Welcome, sir! [To POL. It is my father's will I should take on me The hostesship o' the day.-You're welcome, sir!

[TO CAMILLO. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep