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" prodigal fon, and married a tinker's wife within “ mile where my lapd and living lies; and, having "s flown over many knavish profefsions, he fettled only * in a rogue ;” some 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.

Glo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bithynia; 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; I am false of heart that way, and that he knew, I war. rant him.

Clo. How do you now?

Aut. Sweet Sir, much better than I was ; Itand and walk; I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards

my

kinfman's.
Clo. Shall I bring thee on thy way?

Aut. No, good-fac'd Sir; no, fweet Sir.

Clo. Then, farewel, I must go to buy spices for our heep-lhearing.

[Exit Àut. Prosper you, sweet Sir ! Your purse is not hoe enough to purchase your fpice. I'll be with you at your Theep-lhearing too: if I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove fheep, let me be utroll’d, and my name put into the book of virtue !

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

And merrily hent the style-a,
A morry heart goes all the day,
Your fad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit.
SCENE IV.
The prospect of a shepherd's cote.

Enter Florizel and Perdita. Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no fhepherdess, byt Flora

+ Begging gipsies, in the time of our author, were in gangs and, companies, that had something of the laew of an incorporated body,

Peering in Apriľs front. This your sheep-lhearing
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:
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, Most goddess-like prank'd up. But that our fealls 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 Thew myself a glass.

Flo. I bless the time
When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father's ground.

Per. Now, Jove afford you cause !
To me the difference forges dread, your greatness
Hath not been us’d to fear; even now I tremble
To think your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did : oh, the fates !
How would he look to see his work so noble,
Vildly bound up! what would he say! or how
Should I in these my borrowd flaunts behold
The fternness 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 bellow'd; the green Neptunt A ram, and bleated; and the fire-rob’d 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 chafte : since

my

desires Run not before mine honour, nor my

lufts Burn hotter than my faith.

Per. O but, dear Sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Oppos'd, as it must be, by th' power o'th'King One of these two must be necelīties,

Or I my

Which then will speak, that you must change this purlife.

[pose,
Flo. Thou dearest Perdita,
With these forc'd thoughts, I pr’ythee, darken not

The mirth o'th' feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair,
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 molt conftant,
Though destiny fay No. Be merry, (Gentle),
Strangle fuch thoughts as these with any thing
That you behold the while. Your gueits are coming :
Lift up your countenance, as ’twere the day
Of celebration of that nuptial which
We two have sworn shall come,

Per. O Lady Fortune,
Stand you auspicious !

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Enter Shepherd, Clown, Mopfa, Dorcas, Servants;

with Polixenes and Camillo disguis’d.
Flo. See, your guests approach ;
Address yourself to eutertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Fie, daughter; when my old wife iiv’d, upon
“ This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,
5. Both dame and servant; welcom'd all, serv'd all;
" Would sing her song, and dance her turn; now here
" At upper end o'ih' table, now i' th' middle;
66 On his fhoulder, and his; her face o' fire
* With labour; and the thing.she took to quench it,
:56 She would to each one fip.” 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.
Come, quench your blushes, and present yourself,
That which you are, mistress o'th' feast. Come on,
And bid us welcome to your fheep-fhearing,
As your good flock shall prosper,
Per. Sirs, welcome.

[T. Pol, and Cam. It is my father's will I should take on me VOL. III,

Y

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The hostessship o'th' day; you're welcome, Sirs. Give me those fiowers there, Dorcas—Reverend Sirs, “ For you there's rosemary and rue, .these keep

Seeming and favour all the winter long: 6. Grace and remembrance be unto you both, " And welcome to our fhearing!

Pol. Shepherdess, (A fair one are you), well you

fit

our ages With flowers of winter.

Per. “ Sir, the year growing ancient, « Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the faireft flowers o'th' season “ Are our carnations, and streak’d gilly-flowers, " Which some call Nature's bastards : of that kind “ Our rustic garden's barren, and I care not “ To get Nips of them.

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, Do you neglect them?

Per. “ For I have heard it said, “ There is an art, which in their piedeness shares “ With great creating Nature. Pol. «

Say, there be; " Yet nature is made better by no mean, 66 But nature makes that

mean;

fo over that art, " Which you say adds to nature, is an art or That nature makes; you see, sweet maid, we marry “ A gentle scyon to the wildest stock; • And make conceive a bark of baser kind

By byd of nobler race. This is an art, 56 Which does mend nature, change it rather; but " The art itself is nature.

Per. So it is,

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly-flowers, And do not call them bastards.

Per. “ I'll not put 6. The dibble in earth, to set one sip of them : “ No more than, were I painted, I would wish " This youth should say, 'Twere well; and only there

66 fore 66 Desire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you; " Hot laven.ler, mints, savoury, marjoram, 65. The mary uld, that goes to bed with th' fun,

• And with him rises, weeping: these are fowers “ Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given " To men of middle age.

Y'are very welcome. Gam. I should leave grasing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing.

Per. “ Out, alas ! “ You'd be so lean, that blasts of January “ Would blow you through and through. Now, my

66 fairest friend, • I would I had some flowers o'th' spring, that might « Become your time of day; and your's, and your's, “ That wear upon your virgin-branches yet *** Your maiden-heads growing : O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let 'it fall • From Dis’s waggon ! daffadils, That come before the swallow dares, and take “ The winds of March with beauty ; violets din, vi But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherca's breath ; pale primroses, “ That die unmarried, ere they can behold “ Bright Phoebus in his strength, (a malady “ Most incident to maids) ; gold oxlips, and “ The crown-imperial ; lilies of all kinds, • The flower-de-lis being one.

O these I lack To make you garlands of, and, my sweet friend, " To ftrow him o'r and o'er.

Flo. What? like a corse ?

Per. 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 In Whitsund' pastorals : sure, this robe of mine Does change my difpofition.

Flo. What you do, Ştill betters what is done. When you speak, (sweet), I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell fo ; fo give alms; Pray fo; and for the ord'ring your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' th' sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move ftill, still so, And own no other function. Each

your

doin agi

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