The scene you play were mine. For inftance, Sir, That you may know you shall not want; one word.→ [They talk afide. SCENE X. Enter Autolicus. Aut. Ha, ha, what a fool Honefty is! and Truft, his fworn brother, a very fimple gentleman! I have fold all my trumpery; not a counterfeit ftone, not a ribbon, glafs, pomander, browch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, fhoe-tye, bracelet, horn-ring to keep my pack from fafting: they throng who should buy firft, as if my trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer; by which means, I faw whofe purfe was beft in picture; and what I faw to my good ufe, I remember'd. My good Clown (who wants but fomething to be a reasonable man) grew fo in love with the wenches fong, that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words; which fo drew the rest of the herd to me, that all their other fenfes ftuck in ears; you might have pinch'd a placket, it was fenfelefs; 'twas nothing to geld a cod-piece of a purfe; I would have filed keys off, that hung in chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my Sir's fong, and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this time of lethargy, I pick'd and cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the King's son, and fear'd my chonghs from the chaff, I had not left a purfe alive in the whole army. [Camillo, Flor. and Perd. come forward. Cam. Nay; but my letters by this means being there, So foon as you arrive, fhall clear that doubt. Flo. And those that you 'll procure from King Le ontes Cam. Shall fatisfy your father. Per. Happy be you! All that you fpeak fhews fair. Cam. Who have we here? We'll make an inftrument of this; omit Nothing may give us aid. [Seeing Autol, Aut. If they have overheard me now; why, hanging. Cam. How now, good fellow, Why shak'st thou fo? fear not, man, Here's no harm intended to thee. Aut. I am a poor fellow, Sir. [Afide. Cam. Why, be fo ftill; here's no body will steal that from thee; yet for the outside of thy poverty, we must make an exchange; therefore difcafe thee inftantly, (thou must think there's neceffity in 't), and change garments with this gentleman: tho' the penny-worth, on his fide, be the worst, yet hold thee, there's fome boot. Aut. I am a poor fellow, Sir.-(I know ye well enough). [Afide. Cam. Nay, pr'ythee, difpatch: the gentleman is half-flead already. Aut. Are you in earneft, Sir?-(I fmell the trick on 't).[Afide. Flo. Difpatch, I pr'ythee. Aut. Indeed I have had earnest, but I cannot with confcience take it. Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle. Fortunate miftrefs! (let my prophecy Come home to ye); you must retire yourself Per. I fee the play fo lies, That I must bear a part. Cam. No remedy Have you done there? Flo. Should I now meet my father, He would not call me fon. Cam. Nay, you fhall have no hat: Come, Lady, come farewel, my friend. dut. Adieu, Sir. Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot? Pray you, a word. Cam. What I do next, fhall be to tell the King [4fide. Of this escape, and whither they are bound: Flo. Fortune fpeed us! Thus we fet on, Camillo, to th' fea-fide. [Exit Flor. with Peta Cam. The fwifter fpeed, the better. SCENE XI. [Exit. Aut. I understand the businefs, I heard it. To have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is neceffary for a cut-purfe; a good nofe is requifite alfo, to fmell out work for th' other fenfes. I fee this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been without boot? what a boot is here with this exchange? Sure the gods do this year connive at us, and we may do any thing extempore. The Prince himfelf is about a piece of iniquity; ftealing away from his father, with his clog at his heels. If I thought it were not a piece of honefty to acquaint the King withal, I would do't; I hold it the more knavery to conceal it and therein am I conftant to my profeffion. Enter Clown and Shepherd. Afide, afide,-here's more matter for a hot brain; every lane's end, every fhop, church, feffion, hanging, yields a careful man work. Clo. See, fee, what a man you are now! there is no other way, but to tell the King fhe's a changling and none of your flesh and blood. Shep. Nay, but hear me. Clo. Nay, but hear me. Shep. Go to then. Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the King; and fo your flesh and blood is not to be punish'd by him. Shew thofe things you found about her, thofe fecret things, all but what she has with her; this being done, let the law go whistle; I warrant you. Shep. I will tell the King all, every word, yea, and his fon's pranks too; "who, I may fay, is no honest "man, neither to his father, nor to me, to go about "to make me the King's brother-in-law." Clo." Indeed, brother-in-law was the fartheft off you could have been to him; and then your blood • had been the dearer by I know how much an ounce.' Aut. Very wifely, puppies! [Afide. Shep. Well; let us to the King; there is that in this farthel will make him fcratch his beard. Aut. I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master. Clo. Pray heartily he be at the palace. Aut.. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so fometimes by chance: let me pocket up my pedler's excrement*. How now, ruftiques, whither are you bound? Shep. To th' palace, an it like your Worship. Aut. Your affairs there, what, with whom, the condition of that farthel, the place of your dwelling, your names, your age, of what having, breeding, and any thing that is fitting for to be known, difcover. Clo. We are but plain fellows, Sir. Aut. A lye; you are rough and hairy; let me have no lying; it becomes none but tradeimen, and they often give us foldiers the lye; but we pay them for it with ftamped coin, not ftabbing fteel; therefore they do give us the lye. if Clo. Your Worship had like to have given us one, you had not taken yourself with the manner. Shep. Are you a courtier, an like you, Sir? Aut. Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seeft thou not the air of the court in thefe infoldings? hath not my gate in it the measure of the court? receives not thy nofe court-odour from me? reflect I not on thy bafenefs, court-contempt? think'ft thou, for that I infinuate, or toze from thee thy bufinefs, I am therefore no courtier? I am a courtier Cap-a-pè; and one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there; whereupon I command thee to open thy affair. Shep. My bufinefs, Sir, is to the King. Aut. What advocate haft thou to him? Meaning his falfe beard Shep. I know not, an't like you. Clo. Advocate's the court-word for a pheafant; fay you have none. Shep. None, Sir; I have no pheasant cock nor hen. Aut. "How blefs'd are we that are not fimple men! "Yet Nature might have made me as these are; "Therefore I will not difdain." Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears them not handfomely. Clo." He feems to be the more noble in being fan"tastical; a great man, I'll warrant; I know by the "picking on's teeth." Aut. The farthel there; what's i' th' farthel? Wherefore that box? Shep. Sir, there lies fuch fecrets in this farthel and box, which none must know but the King; and which he fhall know within this hour, if I may come to th' fpeech of him. Aut. Age, thou haft loft thy labour. Aut. The King is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new fhip, to purge melancholy and air himfelf; for if thou be 'ft capable of things ferious, thou muft know the King is full of grief. Shep. So 'tis faid, Sir, about his fon that should have married a fhepherd's daughter. Aut. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly; the curfes he fhall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster. Clo. Think you fo, Sir? Aut. Not he alone fhall fuffer what wit can make heavy, and vengeance bitter; but thofe that are germane to him, though remov'd fifty times, shall all come under the hangman; which though it be great pity, yet it is neceffary. An old fheep-whiftling rogue, a ramtender, to offer to have his daughter come into grace! Some fay he fhall be fton'd; but that death is too soft for him, fay I. Draw our throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy. Cla. Has the old man e'er a fon, Sir, do you hear an 't like you, Sir? |