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penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled King my brother, whose loss of his most precious Queen and chil. dren are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when faw'st thou the Prince Florizel my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in lasing them, when they have approved their virtues.

Cam. Sir, it is three days since I saw the Prince ; what his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I have (missingly) noted, he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appear'd.

Pol. I have confider'd, so much, Camillo, and with some care so far, that I have eyes under my service, which look upon his removedness; from whom I have this intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate.

Cam. I have heard, Sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note; the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.

Pol. (12) That's likewise a part of my intelligence; and, I fear, the Engle that plucks our son thither. Thou fhalt accompany us to the place, where we will (not ap

(12) Tbar's likewise part of my Intelligence ; but, I fear ebe Angle that plucks our Son thitber.] The disjunctive here, I think, makes stark Nonsense of the Context: and the Editors have palm'd an Allusion in the Word Angle, which seems foreign to the Sense of the Passage. As, before, in the Taming of the Sbrew, Angel is mistakenly put for Engle: so I suspect, Angle, by the same easy Corruption, is here. I have there prov'd the Use and Meaning of the Word. I'll proceed briefly to justify the Emendation I have here made, by thewing how naturally it falls in with the Sense we should expect. Camillo had just cold the King, he had heard of such a Shepherd, and of a Daughter he had of most rare Note. Ay, replies the King, tbat's a Part of my Intelligence too ; and, I fear, [tbat Daughter is] be Siren, obe Decoy, she Invitation, that plucks our Son thitber.

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pearing what we are) have some question with the lhep-
herd ; from whose fimplicity, I think it not uneasie to
get the cause of my son's resort thither. Pr’ythee, be
my present partner in this business, and lay aside the
thoughts of Sicilia.

Cam. I willingly obey your command.
Pol. My best Camillo-we must disguise ourselves.

[Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Country.

Enter Autolicus singing,
WH

HE N daffadils begin to peerè,

With, heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o'th' year ;

For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
The white fbeet bleaching on the bedge,

With, hey! the sweet birds, O bow they fing!
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge :

For a quart of ale is a dish for a king:
The lark, that tirra lyra chaunts,

With, bey! with, bey! the brush and the jay:
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,

While we fie tumbling in the bay.
I have served Prince Florizel, and in my time wore
three-pile, but now I am out of service.
But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?

The pale moon shines by night :
And when I wander here and there,

I then do go moft right.
If tinkers may have leave to live,

And bear the fow-skin budget ;
Then my account I well may give,

And in the focks avouch. st.
My traffick is sheets ; when the kite builds, look to leffer
linnen. My father nam'd me Autolicus, being litter'd
under Mercury ; who, as I am, was likewise a snapper-
up of unconsider'd trifles : with die and drab, I pur-
chas'd this caparison ; and my revenue is the filly cheat.
Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the high way;
VOL. III.

N

beating

beating and hanging are terrors to me : for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it.

A prize a prize!

Enter Glown. Clo. Let me see,- Every eleven weather tods, every tod yields pound and odd shilling ; fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wool too? Aut. If the sprindge hold, the cock's mine.

[Afide. Clo. I cannot do't without compters.

Let me see, what am I to buy for our sheep-Thearing feast, three pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice-what will this sister of mine do with rice ? but my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and the lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for the fhearers ; three-man song-men all, and very good ones, but they are most of them means and bases ; but one Puritan among them, and he fings psalms to horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden pies, mace dates

that's out of my note : nutmegs, seven ; a race or two of ginger, but that I may begi four pound of prunes, and as many raisins o'th' sun. Aut. Oh, that ever I was born!

[Groveling on the Ground, Clo. I'th' name of me

Aut. Oh, help me, help me : pluck but off these sags, and then death, death

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

Aut. Oh, Sir, the loathsomness of them offends me, more than the stripes I have receiv'd, which are mighty ones, and millions.

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

Aut. I am robb’d, Sir, and beaten ; my mony and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put

Clo. What, by a horseman, or a footman?
Aut. A footman, sweet Sir, a footman.

Cle.

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Cl. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the garments he hath left with thee; if this be a horse-man's cpat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee. Come, lend me thy hand.

[Helping him up. Aut. Oh, good Sir, tenderly, oh! Clo. Alas, poor soul.

Aut. O good Sir, softly, good Sir : I fear, Sir, my thoulder-blade is out.

Clo. How now, canft stand ?

Aut. Softly, dear Sir ; good Sir, softly; you ha' donc me a charitable office.

Clo. Doft lack any mony? I have a little mony for thee.

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 mony, or any thing I want : offer me no mony, I

pray you ; that kills my heart.

Clo. What manner of fellow was he, that robb’d 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 whipp'd out of the court.

Glo. His vices, you would say ; there's no virtue whipp'd out of the court; they cherish it to make it stay there, and yet it will no more but abide.

Aut. Vices I would say, Sir. I know this man well, he hath been fince an ape-bearer, then a process-server, a bailiff ; then he compass'd a motion of the prodigal fon, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lyes; and having down over many knavish professions, he settled only in a rogue; fome call him Autolicus.

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.

N 2

Clo,

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Flo.' | Do give a life : no shepherdess, but Flora

Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia ; if, you had but look'd big, and spit at him, he'd have run.

Aut. I must confess to you, Sir, I am no fighter ; [ am false of heart that way, and that he knew, I warrant him.

Clo. How do you now?

Aut. Sweet Sir, much better than I was : I can stand, and walk; I will even take my leave of you, and pace foftly towards

my

kinsman's. Clo. Shall I bring thee on thy way ? Aut. No, good-fac'd Sir ; no, sweet Sir.

Clo. Then, farewel, I must go to buy spices for our sheep fhearing

[Exit. Aut. Prosper you, sweet Sir! Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-Thearing too : If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unroll'd, and my name put into the book of virtue !

S O N G
Fog on, jog on, the foot-path way,

And merrily hent the file-a.
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit. SCEN E, the Prospect of a Shepherd's Cotter

Enter Florizel and Perdita.
HESE

your

unusual weeds to each part of you Peering in April's front. This your feep-fhearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And

you the Queen on't. Per. Sir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extreams it not becomes me: Oh pardon, that I name them : your high self, The gracious mark o' th' land, you have obscur'd With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid, Moft goddess-like prank'd up. But that our feasts

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