The Winter’s Tale
ACT IV SCENE IV | The Shepherd’s cottage. | |
[Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA] | ||
FLORIZEL | 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-shearing | ||
Is as a meeting of the petty gods, | ||
And you the queen on’t. | 5 | |
PERDITA | Sir, 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, | 10 | |
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. | 15 | |
FLORIZEL | I bless the time | |
When my good falcon made her flight across | ||
Thy father’s ground. | ||
PERDITA | Now Jove afford you cause! | |
To me the difference forges dread; your greatness | 20 | |
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 | 25 | |
Should I, in these my borrow’d flaunts, behold | ||
The sternness of his presence? | ||
FLORIZEL | Apprehend | |
Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, | ||
Humbling their deities to love, have taken | 30 | |
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 | 35 | |
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. | ||
PERDITA | O, but, sir, | 40 |
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, | 45 | |
Or I my life. | ||
FLORIZEL | Thou 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 | 50 | |
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: | 55 | |
Lift up your countenance, as it were the day | ||
Of celebration of that nuptial which | ||
We two have sworn shall come. | ||
PERDITA | O lady Fortune, | |
Stand you auspicious! | 60 | |
FLORIZEL | See, 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 disguised ] | ||
Shepherd | Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon | |
This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, | 65 | |
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, | 70 | |
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. | 75 | |
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. | ||
PERDITA | [To POLIXENES] Sir, welcome: | 80 |
It is my father’s will I should take on me | ||
The hostess-ship o’ the day. | ||
[To CAMILLO] | ||
You’re welcome, sir. | ||
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, | ||
For you there’s rosemary and rue; these keep | 85 | |
Seeming and savour all the winter long: | ||
Grace and remembrance be to you both, | ||
And welcome to our shearing! | ||
POLIXENES | Shepherdess, | |
A fair one are you–well you fit our ages | 90 | |
With flowers of winter. | ||
PERDITA | Sir, the year growing ancient, | |
Not yet on summer’s death, nor on the birth | ||
Of trembling winter, the fairest | ||
flowers o’ the season | 95 | |
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. | ||
POLIXENES | Wherefore, gentle maiden, | 100 |
Do you neglect them? | ||
PERDITA | For I have heard it said | |
There is an art which in their piedness shares | ||
With great creating nature. | ||
POLIXENES | Say there be; | 105 |
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, | 110 | |
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. | ||
PERDITA | So it is. | 115 |
POLIXENES | Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, | |
And do not call them bastards. | ||
PERDITA | I’ll not put | |
The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; | ||
No more than were I painted I would wish | 120 | |
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 | 125 | |
Of middle summer, and I think they are given | ||
To men of middle age. You’re very welcome. | ||
CAMILLO | I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, | |
And only live by gazing. | ||
PERDITA | Out, alas! | 130 |
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, | 135 | |
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 | 140 | |
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 | 145 | |
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! | 150 | |
FLORIZEL | What, like a corse? | |
PERDITA | No, 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 | 155 | |
In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine | ||
Does change my disposition. | ||
FLORIZEL | What you do | |
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet. | ||
I’ld have you do it ever: when you sing, | 160 | |
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, | 165 | |
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. | ||
PERDITA | O Doricles, | 170 |
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. | 175 | |
FLORIZEL | I 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. | 180 | |
PERDITA | I’ll swear for ’em. | |
POLIXENES | This 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. | 185 | |
CAMILLO | He tells her something | |
That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is | ||
The queen of curds and cream. | ||
Clown | Come on, strike up! | |
DORCAS | Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, | 190 |
To mend her kissing with! | ||
MOPSA | Now, in good time! | |
Clown | Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. | |
Come, strike up! | ||
[ Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses ] | ||
POLIXENES | Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this | 195 |
Which dances with your daughter? | ||
Shepherd | They 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: | 200 | |
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. | 205 | |
POLIXENES | She dances featly. | |
Shepherd | So 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. | 210 | |
[Enter Servant] | ||
Servant | O 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 | 215 | |
ears grew to his tunes. | ||
Clown | He 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. | 220 | |
Servant | He 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 | 225 | |
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.’ | 230 | |
POLIXENES | This is a brave fellow. | |
Clown | Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited | |
fellow. Has he any unbraided wares? | ||
Servant | He hath ribbons of an the colours i’ the rainbow; | |
points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can | 235 | |
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. | 240 | |
Clown | Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing. | |
PERDITA | Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in ‘s tunes. | |
[Exit Servant] | ||
Clown | You have of these pedlars, that have more in them | |
than you’ld think, sister. | ||
PERDITA | Ay, good brother, or go about to think. | 245 |
[Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing] | ||
AUTOLYCUS | Lawn 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, | 250 | |
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: | 255 | |
Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; | ||
Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy. | ||
Clown | If 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. | 260 | |
MOPSA | I was promised them against the feast; but they come | |
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 | |
paid you more, which will shame you to give him again. | 265 | |
Clown | Is 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 | 270 | |
our guests? ’tis well they are whispering: clamour | ||
your tongues, and not a word more. | ||
MOPSA | I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace | |
and a pair of sweet gloves. | ||
Clown | Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way | 275 |
and lost all my money? | ||
AUTOLYCUS | And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; | |
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. | 280 |
Clown | What hast here? ballads? | |
MOPSA | Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o’ | |
life, for then we are sure they are true. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | Here’s one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer’s | |
wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a | 285 | |
burthen and how she longed to eat adders’ heads and | ||
toads carbonadoed. | ||
MOPSA | Is it true, think you? | |
AUTOLYCUS | Very true, and but a month old. | |
DORCAS | Bless me from marrying a usurer! | 290 |
AUTOLYCUS | Here’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? | ||
MOPSA | Pray you now, buy it. | |
Clown | Come on, lay it by: and let’s first see moe | 295 |
ballads; we’ll buy the other things anon. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | Here’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 | 300 | |
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. | ||
DORCAS | Is it true too, think you? | |
AUTOLYCUS | Five justices’ hands at it, and witnesses more than | 305 |
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 | 310 |
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. | ||
MOPSA | We can both sing it: if thou’lt bear a part, thou | |
shalt hear; ’tis in three parts. | 315 | |
DORCAS | We had the tune on’t a month ago. | |
AUTOLYCUS | I can bear my part; you must know ’tis my | |
occupation; have at it with you. | ||
[SONG] | ||
AUTOLYCUS | Get you hence, for I must go | |
Where it fits not you to know. | 320 | |
DORCAS | Whither? | |
MOPSA | O, whither? | |
DORCAS | Whither? | |
MOPSA | It becomes thy oath full well, | |
Thou to me thy secrets tell. | 325 | |
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? | 330 |
AUTOLYCUS | Neither. | |
DORCAS | Thou hast sworn my love to be. | |
MOPSA | Thou hast sworn it more to me: | |
Then whither goest? say, whither? | ||
Clown | We’ll have this song out anon by ourselves: my | 335 |
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 MOPSA] | ||
AUTOLYCUS | And you shall pay well for ’em. | 340 |
[Follows singing] | ||
Will you buy any tape, | ||
Or lace for your cape, | ||
My dainty duck, my dear-a? | ||
Any silk, any thread, | ||
Any toys for your head, | 345 | |
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. | ||
[Exit] | ||
[Re-enter Servant] | ||
Servant | Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, | 350 |
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 | 355 | |
be not too rough for some that know little but | ||
bowling, it will please plentifully. | ||
Shepherd | Away! we’ll none on ‘t: here has been too much | |
homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you. | ||
POLIXENES | You weary those that refresh us: pray, let’s see | 360 |
these four threes of herdsmen. | ||
Servant | One 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. | ||
Shepherd | Leave your prating: since these good men are | 365 |
pleased, let them come in; but quickly now. | ||
Servant | Why, they stay at door, sir. | |
[Exit] | ||
[Here a dance of twelve Satyrs] | ||
POLIXENES | O, father, you’ll know more of that hereafter. | |
[To CAMILLO] | ||
Is it not too far gone? ‘Tis time to part them. | ||
He’s simple and tells much. | 370 | |
[To FLORIZEL] | ||
How 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 | 375 | |
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 | 380 | |
For a reply, at least if you make a care | ||
Of happy holding her. | ||
FLORIZEL | Old sir, I know | |
She prizes not such trifles as these are: | ||
The gifts she looks from me are pack’d and lock’d | 385 | |
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, | 390 | |
Or Ethiopian’s tooth, or the fann’d | ||
snow that’s bolted | ||
By the northern blasts twice o’er. | ||
POLIXENES | What follows this? | |
How prettily the young swain seems to wash | 395 | |
The hand was fair before! I have put you out: | ||
But to your protestation; let me hear | ||
What you profess. | ||
FLORIZEL | Do, and be witness to ‘t. | |
POLIXENES | And this my neighbour too? | 400 |
FLORIZEL | And 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 | 405 | |
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. | ||
POLIXENES | Fairly offer’d. | 410 |
CAMILLO | This shows a sound affection. | |
Shepherd | But, my daughter, | |
Say you the like to him? | ||
PERDITA | I cannot speak | |
So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better: | 415 | |
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out | ||
The purity of his. | ||
Shepherd | Take hands, a bargain! | |
And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to ‘t: | ||
I give my daughter to him, and will make | 420 | |
Her portion equal his. | ||
FLORIZEL | O, 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, | 425 | |
Contract us ‘fore these witnesses. | ||
Shepherd | Come, your hand; | |
And, daughter, yours. | ||
POLIXENES | Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; | |
Have you a father? | 430 | |
FLORIZEL | I have: but what of him? | |
POLIXENES | Knows he of this? | |
FLORIZEL | He neither does nor shall. | |
POLIXENES | Methinks a father | |
Is at the nuptial of his son a guest | 435 | |
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? | 440 | |
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing | ||
But what he did being childish? | ||
FLORIZEL | No, good sir; | |
He has his health and ampler strength indeed | ||
Than most have of his age. | 445 | |
POLIXENES | By 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 | 450 | |
But fair posterity, should hold some counsel | ||
In such a business. | ||
FLORIZEL | I yield all this; | |
But for some other reasons, my grave sir, | ||
Which ’tis not fit you know, I not acquaint | 455 | |
My father of this business. | ||
POLIXENES | Let him know’t. | |
FLORIZEL | He shall not. | |
POLIXENES | Prithee, let him. | |
FLORIZEL | No, he must not. | 460 |
Shepherd | Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve | |
At knowing of thy choice. | ||
FLORIZEL | Come, come, he must not. | |
Mark our contract. | ||
POLIXENES | Mark your divorce, young sir, | 465 |
[Discovering himself] | ||
Whom 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 | 470 | |
Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know | ||
The royal fool thou copest with,– | ||
Shepherd | O, my heart! | |
POLIXENES | I’ll have thy beauty scratch’d with briers, and made | |
More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, | 475 | |
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: | 480 | |
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, | 485 | |
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. | 490 | |
[Exit] | ||
PERDITA | Even 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 | 495 | |
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. | 500 | |
CAMILLO | Why, how now, father! | |
Speak ere thou diest. | ||
Shepherd | I cannot speak, nor think | |
Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir! | ||
You have undone a man of fourscore three, | 505 | |
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, | 510 | |
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. | 515 | |
[Exit] | ||
FLORIZEL | Why 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. | 520 | |
CAMILLO | Gracious 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: | 525 | |
Then, till the fury of his highness settle, | ||
Come not before him. | ||
FLORIZEL | I not purpose it. | |
I think, Camillo? | ||
CAMILLO | Even he, my lord. | 530 |
PERDITA | How often have I told you ‘twould be thus! | |
How often said, my dignity would last | ||
But till ’twere known! | ||
FLORIZEL | It cannot fail but by | |
The violation of my faith; and then | 535 | |
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. | ||
CAMILLO | Be advised. | 540 |
FLORIZEL | I 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. | ||
CAMILLO | This is desperate, sir. | 545 |
FLORIZEL | So 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 | 550 | |
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 | 555 | |
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 | 560 | |
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. | ||
CAMILLO | O my lord! | 565 |
I would your spirit were easier for advice, | ||
Or stronger for your need. | ||
FLORIZEL | Hark, Perdita | |
[Drawing her aside] | ||
I’ll hear you by and by. | ||
CAMILLO | He’s irremoveable, | 570 |
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 | 575 | |
I so much thirst to see. | ||
FLORIZEL | Now, good Camillo; | |
I am so fraught with curious business that | ||
I leave out ceremony. | ||
CAMILLO | Sir, I think | 580 |
You have heard of my poor services, i’ the love | ||
That I have borne your father? | ||
FLORIZEL | Very nobly | |
Have you deserved: it is my father’s music | ||
To speak your deeds, not little of his care | 585 | |
To have them recompensed as thought on. | ||
CAMILLO | Well, 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: | 590 | |
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, | 595 | |
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. | 600 | |
FLORIZEL | How, Camillo, | |
May this, almost a miracle, be done? | ||
That I may call thee something more than man | ||
And after that trust to thee. | ||
CAMILLO | Have you thought on | 605 |
A place whereto you’ll go? | ||
FLORIZEL | Not 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 | 610 | |
Of every wind that blows. | ||
CAMILLO | Then 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, | 615 | |
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, | 620 | |
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. | 625 | |
FLORIZEL | Worthy Camillo, | |
What colour for my visitation shall I | ||
Hold up before him? | ||
CAMILLO | Sent by the king your father | |
To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, | 630 | |
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 | 635 | |
But that you have your father’s bosom there | ||
And speak his very heart. | ||
FLORIZEL | I am bound to you: | |
There is some sap in this. | ||
CAMILLO | A cause more promising | 640 |
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 | 645 | |
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. | 650 | |
PERDITA | One of these is true: | |
I think affliction may subdue the cheek, | ||
But not take in the mind. | ||
CAMILLO | Yea, say you so? | |
There shall not at your father’s house these | 655 | |
seven years | ||
Be born another such. | ||
FLORIZEL | My good Camillo, | |
She is as forward of her breeding as | ||
She is i’ the rear our birth. | 660 | |
CAMILLO | I cannot say ’tis pity | |
She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress | ||
To most that teach. | ||
PERDITA | Your pardon, sir; for this | |
I’ll blush you thanks. | 665 | |
FLORIZEL | My 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, | 670 | |
Nor shall appear in Sicilia. | ||
CAMILLO | My 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 | 675 | |
The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, | ||
That you may know you shall not want, one word. | ||
[They talk aside] | ||
[Re-enter AUTOLYCUS] | ||
AUTOLYCUS | Ha, 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 | 680 | |
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: | 685 | |
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 | 690 | |
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 | 695 | |
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 | 700 | |
son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not | ||
left a purse alive in the whole army. | ||
[CAMILLO, FLORIZEL, and PERDITA come forward] | ||
CAMILLO | Nay, but my letters, by this means being there | |
So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. | ||
FLORIZEL | And those that you’ll procure from King Leontes– | 705 |
CAMILLO | Shall satisfy your father. | |
PERDITA | Happy be you! | |
All that you speak shows fair. | ||
CAMILLO | Who have we here? | |
[Seeing AUTOLYCUS] | ||
We’ll make an instrument of this, omit | 710 | |
Nothing may give us aid. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | If they have overheard me now, why, hanging. | |
CAMILLO | How now, good fellow! why shakest thou so? Fear | |
not, man; here’s no harm intended to thee. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | I am a poor fellow, sir. | 715 |
CAMILLO | Why, 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 | 720 | |
pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, | ||
there’s some boot. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | I am a poor fellow, sir. | |
[Aside] | ||
I know ye well enough. | ||
CAMILLO | Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half | 725 |
flayed already. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | Are you in earnest, sir? | |
[Aside] | ||
I smell the trick on’t. | ||
FLORIZEL | Dispatch, I prithee. | |
AUTOLYCUS | Indeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with | 730 |
conscience take it. | ||
CAMILLO | Unbuckle, unbuckle. | |
[FLORIZEL and AUTOLYCUS exchange garments] | ||
Fortunate mistress,–let my prophecy | ||
Come home to ye!–you must retire yourself | ||
Into some covert: take your sweetheart’s hat | 735 | |
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. | 740 | |
PERDITA | I see the play so lies | |
That I must bear a part. | ||
CAMILLO | No remedy. | |
Have you done there? | ||
FLORIZEL | Should I now meet my father, | 745 |
He would not call me son. | ||
CAMILLO | Nay, you shall have no hat. | |
[Giving it to PERDITA] | ||
Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | Adieu, sir. | |
FLORIZEL | O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! | 750 |
Pray you, a word. | ||
CAMILLO | [Aside] What 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 | 755 | |
I shall review Sicilia, for whose sight | ||
I have a woman’s longing. | ||
FLORIZEL | Fortune speed us! | |
Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. | ||
CAMILLO | The swifter speed the better. | 760 |
[Exeunt FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and CAMILLO] | ||
AUTOLYCUS | I 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. | 765 | |
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 | 770 | |
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 Shepherd] | ||
Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain: | 775 | |
every lane’s end, every shop, church, session, | ||
hanging, yields a careful man work. | ||
Clown | See, 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. | 780 | |
Shepherd | Nay, but hear me. | |
Clown | Nay, but hear me. | |
Shepherd | Go to, then. | |
Clown | She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh | |
and blood has not offended the king; and so your | 785 | |
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. | ||
Shepherd | I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his | 790 |
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. | ||
Clown | Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you | |
could have been to him and then your blood had been | 795 | |
the dearer by I know how much an ounce. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | [Aside] Very wisely, puppies! | |
Shepherd | Well, let us to the king: there is that in this | |
fardel will make him scratch his beard. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | [Aside] I know not what impediment this complaint | 800 |
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 | |
sometimes by chance: let me pocket up my pedlar’s excrement. | ||
[Takes off his false beard] | ||
How now, rustics! whither are you bound? | 805 | |
Shepherd | To the palace, an it like your worship. | |
AUTOLYCUS | Your 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. | 810 | |
Clown | We are but plain fellows, sir. | |
AUTOLYCUS | A 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 | 815 | |
they do not give us the lie. | ||
Clown | Your worship had like to have given us one, if you | |
had not taken yourself with the manner. | ||
Shepherd | Are you a courtier, an’t like you, sir? | |
AUTOLYCUS | Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest | 820 |
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 | 825 | |
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. | ||
Shepherd | My business, sir, is to the king. | 830 |
AUTOLYCUS | What advocate hast thou to him? | |
Shepherd | I know not, an’t like you. | |
Clown | Advocate’s the court-word for a pheasant: say you | |
have none. | ||
Shepherd | None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen. | 835 |
AUTOLYCUS | How blessed are we that are not simple men! | |
Yet nature might have made me as these are, | ||
Therefore I will not disdain. | ||
Clown | This cannot be but a great courtier. | |
Shepherd | His garments are rich, but he wears | 840 |
them not handsomely. | ||
Clown | He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical: | |
a great man, I’ll warrant; I know by the picking | ||
on’s teeth. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | The fardel there? what’s i’ the fardel? | 845 |
Wherefore that box? | ||
Shepherd | Sir, 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. | 850 | |
AUTOLYCUS | Age, thou hast lost thy labour. | |
Shepherd | Why, sir? | |
AUTOLYCUS | The 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 | 855 | |
know the king is full of grief. | ||
Shepard | So ’tis said, sir; about his son, that should have | |
married a shepherd’s daughter. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly: | |
the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall | 860 | |
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 | |
and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to | ||
him, though removed fifty times, shall all come | 865 | |
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 | 870 | |
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 | |
like you, sir? | ||
AUTOLYCUS | He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; then | |
‘nointed over with honey, set on the head of a | 875 | |
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 | 880 | |
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 | 885 | |
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 | 890 | |
shall do it. | ||
Clown | He 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, | 895 | |
and no more ado. Remember ‘stoned,’ and ‘flayed alive.’ | ||
Shepherd | An’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. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | After I have done what I promised? | 900 |
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 | |
one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | O, that’s the case of the shepherd’s son: hang him, | 905 |
he’ll be made an example. | ||
Clown | Comfort, 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 | 910 | |
business is performed, and remain, as he says, your | ||
pawn till it be brought you. | ||
AUTOLYCUS | I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side; | |
go on the right hand: I will but look upon the | ||
hedge and follow you. | 915 | |
Clown | We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest. | |
Shepherd | Let’s before as he bids us: he was provided to do us good. | |
[Exeunt Shepherd and Clown] | ||
AUTOLYCUS | If 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 | 920 | |
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 | 925 | |
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] |
Next: The Winter’s Tale, Act 5, Scene 1