The Winter’s Tale
Act IV, Scene 4
Bohemia. A shepherd’s cottage.
- Enter Florizel, Perdita.
Florizel1 - 5
- These your unusual weeds to each part of you
- Does 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.
Perdita6 - 15
- 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’ 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 feasts
- In every mess have folly, and the feeders
- Digest ’t with a custom, I should blush
- To see you so attir’d—swoon, I think,
- To show myself a glass.
Florizel16 - 18
- I bless the time
- When my good falcon made her flight across
- Thy father’s ground.
Perdita19 - 27
- 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. O, 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 borrowed flaunts, behold
- The sternness of his presence?
Florizel28 - 39
- 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 Neptune
- 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 chaste, since my desires
- Run not before mine honor, nor my lusts
- Burn hotter than my faith.
Perdita40 - 45
- O but, sir,
- Your resolution cannot hold when ’tis
- Oppos’d (as it must be) by th’ pow’r of the King.
- One of these two must be necessities,
- Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose,
- Or I my life.
Florizel46 - 57
- Thou dear’st Perdita,
- With these forc’d thoughts I prithee 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 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.
Perdita58 - 59
- O Lady Fortune,
- Stand you auspicious!
Florizel60 - 62
- See, your guests approach,
- Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
- And let’s be red with mirth.
- Enter Shepherd, Clown, Polixenes and Camillo disguised,
- Mopsa, Dorcas, Servants.
Old Shepherd63 - 78
- Fie, daughter, when my old wife liv’d, upon
- This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,
- Both dame and servant; welcom’d all, serv’d all;
- Would sing her song, and dance her turn; now here,
- At upper end o’ th’ table, now i’ th’ 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 ’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 sheep-shearing,
- As your good flock shall prosper.
Perdita79 - 87
- To Polixenes.
- Sir, welcome.
- It is my father’s will I should take on me
- The hostess-ship o’ th’ day.
- To Camillo.
- You’re welcome, sir.
- Give me those flow’rs there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs,
- For you there’s rosemary and rue; these keep
- Seeming and savor all the winter long.
- Grace and remembrance be to you both,
- And welcome to our shearing!
Polixenes88 - 90
- (A fair one are you!), well you fit our ages
- With flow’rs of winter.
Perdita91 - 97
- Sir, the year growing ancient,
- Not yet on summer’s death, nor on the birth
- Of trembling winter, the fairest flow’rs o’ th’ season
- 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.
Polixenes98 - 99
- Wherefore, gentle maiden,
- Do you neglect them?
Perdita100 - 102
- For I have heard it said,
- There is an art which in their piedness shares
- With great creating Nature.
Polixenes103 - 112
- Say there be;
- 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,
- 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.
- So it is.
Polixenes114 - 115
- Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,
- And do not call them bastards.
Perdita116 - 125
- I’ll not put
- The dibble in earth to set one slip of them;
- No more than were I painted I would wish
- This youth should say ’twere well, and only therefore
- Desire to breed by me. Here’s flow’rs for you:
- Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjorum,
- The marigold, that goes to bed wi’ th’ sun,
- And with him rises weeping. These are flow’rs
- Of middle summer, and I think they are given
- To men of middle age. Y’ are very welcome.
Camillo126 - 127
- I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
- And only live by gazing.
Perdita128 - 147
- Out, alas!
- You’ld be so lean, that blasts of January
- Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair’st friend,
- I would I had some flow’rs o’ th’ spring that might
- Become your time of day—and yours, and yours,
- That wear upon your virgin branches yet
- Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina,
- For the flow’rs now, that, frighted, thou let’st fall
- From Dis’s wagon! Daffodils,
- That come before the swallow dares, and take
- The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
- But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes,
- Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primeroses,
- That die unmarried, ere they can behold
- Bright Phoebus in his strength (a malady
- Most incident to maids); bold oxlips, and
- The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds
- (The flow’r-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!
- What? Like a corse?
Perdita149 - 154
- 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 flow’rs.
- Methinks I play as I have seen them do
- In Whitsun pastorals. Sure this robe of mine
- Does change my disposition.
Florizel155 - 166
- What you do
- Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
- I’ld have you do it ever; when you sing,
- I’ld have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
- Pray so; 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 still, still so,
- And own no other function. Each your doing
- (So singular in each particular)
- Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
- That all your acts are queens.
Perdita167 - 172
- O Doricles,
- Your praises are too large. But that your youth,
- And the true blood which peeps 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.
Florizel173 - 177
- 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.
- I’ll swear for ’em.
Polixenes179 - 182
- This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever
- Ran on the green-sord. Nothing she does, or seems,
- But smacks of something greater than herself,
- Too noble for this place.
Camillo183 - 185
- He tells her something
- That makes her blood look on’t. Good sooth, she is
- The queen of curds and cream.
- Come on. Strike up.
Dorcas187 - 188
- Mopsa must be your mistress; marry, garlic,
- To mend her kissing with!
- Now in good time!
Clown190 - 191
- Not a word, a word, we stand upon our manners.
- Come, strike up.
- Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Polixenes192 - 193
- Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this
- Which dances with your daughter?
Old Shepherd194 - 202
- 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.
- I think so too; for never gaz’d 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.
- She dances featly.
Old Shepherd204 - 207
- 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.
- Enter Servant of the Old Shepherd.
Servant of the Old Shepherd208 - 212
- O master! If you did but hear the pedlar at the door, you
- would never dance again after a tabor 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 ears grew to his tunes.
Clown213 - 216
- 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
Servant of the Old Shepherd217 - 225
- 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 burdens of dildos and fadings, “jump her
- and thump her”; and where some stretch-mouth’d 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.”
- This is a brave fellow.
Clown227 - 228
- Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow.
- Has he any unbraided wares?
Servant of the Old Shepherd229 - 235
- He hath ribbons of all the colors i’ th’ rainbow; points
- more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle,
- though they come to him by th’ gross; inkles, caddises,
- 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
- Prithee bring him in, and let him approach singing.
- Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in ’s tunes.
- Exit Servant of the Old Shepherd.
Clown238 - 239
- You have of these pedlars, that have more in them than
- you’ld think, sister.
- Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
- Enter Autolycus singing.
Autolycus241 - 253
- Lawn as white as driven snow,
- Cypress black as e’er was crow,
- Gloves as sweet as damask roses,
- Masks for faces and for noses;
- Bugle-bracelet, necklace amber,
- 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:
- Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy,
- Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry:
- Come buy.
Clown254 - 256
- If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no
- money of me, but being enthrall’d as I am, it will also be
- the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves.
Mopsa257 - 258
- I was promis’d them against the feast, but they come not too
- late now.
- He hath promis’d you more than that, or there be liars.
Mopsa260 - 261
- He hath paid you all he promis’d you. May be he has paid you
- more, which will shame you to give him again.
Clown262 - 267
- 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 our guests? ’Tis well they are whisp’ring. Clamor
- your tongues, and not a word more.
Mopsa268 - 269
- I have done. Come, you promis’d me a tawdry-lace and a pair
- of sweet gloves.
Clown270 - 271
- Have I not told thee how I was cozen’d by the way, and lost
- all my money?
Autolycus272 - 273
- And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad, therefore it
- behooves men to be wary.
- Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.
- I hope so, sir, for I have about me many parcels of charge.
- What hast here? Ballads?
Mopsa277 - 278
- Pray now buy some. I love a ballet in print, a-life, for
- then we are sure they are true.
Autolycus279 - 281
- Here’s one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer’s wife was
- brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden, and how she
- long’d to eat adders’ heads, and toads carbonado’d.
- Is it true, think you?
- Very true, and but a month old.
- Bless me from marrying a usurer!
Autolycus285 - 287
- 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?
- Pray you now buy it.
Clown289 - 290
- Come on, lay it by; and let’s first see more ballads. We’ll
- buy the other things anon.
Autolycus291 - 297
- Here’s another ballad, of a fish that appear’d upon the
- coast on We’n’sday the fourscore of April, forty thousand
- fathom above water, and sung this ballad against the hard
- hearts of maids. It was thought she was a woman, and was
- turn’d into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh
- with one that lov’d her. The ballad is very pitiful, and as
- Is it true too, think you?
Autolycus299 - 300
- Five justices’ hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack
- will hold.
- Lay it by too. Another.
- This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
- Let’s have some merry ones.
Autolycus304 - 306
- Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to 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.
Mopsa307 - 308
- We can both sing it. If thou’lt bear a part, thou shalt
- hear; ’tis in three parts.
- We had the tune on’t a month ago.
Autolycus310 - 311
- I can bear my part, you must know ’tis my occupation. Have
- at it with you.
Autolycus312 - 313
- Get you hence, for I must go
- Where it fits not you to know.
- O, whither?
Mopsa317 - 318
- It becomes thy oath full well,
- Thou to me thy secrets tell.
- Me too; let me go thither.
- Or thou goest to th’ grange, or mill.
- If to either, thou dost ill.
- What, neither?
- Thou hast sworn my love to be.
Mopsa326 - 327
- Thou hast sworn it more to me:
- Then whither goest? Say, whither?
Clown328 - 331
- We’ll have this song out anon by ourselves. My 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.
Autolycus332 - 341
- And you shall pay well for ’em.
- 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
- Of the new’st and fin’st, fin’st wear-a?
- Come to the pedlar,
- Money’s a meddler,
- That doth utter all men’s ware-a.
- Enter First Servant.
First Servant342 - 348
- Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, 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’ th’
- mind (if it be not too rough for some that know little but
- bowling) it will please plentifully.
Old Shepherd349 - 350
- Away! We’ll none on’t. Here has been too much homely foolery
- already. I know, sir, we weary you.
Polixenes351 - 352
- You weary those that refresh us. Pray let’s see these four
- threes of herdsmen.
First Servant353 - 355
- One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danc’d
- before the King; and not the worst of the three but jumps
- twelve foot and a half by th’ square.
Old Shepherd356 - 357
- Leave your prating. Since these good men are pleas’d, let
- them come in; but quickly now.
- Why, they stay at door, sir.
- Here a dance of twelve Satyrs.
Polixenes359 - 373
- 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.
- 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
- 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
- For a reply, at least if you make a care
- Of happy holding her.
Florizel374 - 383
- Old sir, I know
- She prizes not such trifles as these are.
- The gifts she looks from me are pack’d and lock’d
- Up in my heart, which I have given already,
- But not deliver’d. O, hear me breathe my life
- Before this ancient sir, whom, it should seem,
- Hath sometime lov’d! I take thy hand, this hand,
- As soft as dove’s down and as white as it,
- Or Ethiopian’s tooth, or the fann’d snow that’s bolted
- By th’ northern blasts twice o’er.
Polixenes384 - 388
- What follows this?
- How prettily th’ young swain seems to wash
- The hand was fair before! I have put you out.
- But to your protestation; let me hear
- What you profess.
- Do, and be witness to’t.
- And this my neighbor too?
Florizel391 - 399
- 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
- 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.
- Fairly offer’d.
- This shows a sound affection.
Old Shepherd402 - 403
- But, my daughter,
- Say you the like to him?
Perdita404 - 407
- I cannot speak
- So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better.
- By th’ pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
- The purity of his.
Old Shepherd408 - 411
- Take hands, a bargain!
- And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to’t:
- I give my daughter to him, and will make
- Her portion equal his.
Florizel412 - 416
- O, that must be
- I’ th’ 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,
- Contract us ’fore these witnesses.
Old Shepherd417 - 418
- Come, your hand;
- And, daughter, yours.
Polixenes419 - 420
- Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you.
- Have you a father?
- I have; but what of him?
- Knows he of this?
- He neither does, nor shall.
Polixenes424 - 432
- Methinks a father
- Is at the nuptial of his son a guest
- 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 alt’ring rheums? Can he speak? Hear?
- Know man from man? Dispute his own estate?
- Lies he not bed-rid? And again does nothing
- But what he did being childish?
Florizel433 - 435
- No, good sir;
- He has his health, and ampler strength indeed
- Than most have of his age.
Polixenes436 - 442
- 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
- But fair posterity) should hold some counsel
- In such a business.
Florizel443 - 446
- I yield all this;
- But for some other reasons, my grave sir,
- Which ’tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
- My father of this business.
- Let him know’t.
- He shall not.
- Prithee let him.
- No, he must not.
Old Shepherd451 - 452
- Let him, my son. He shall not need to grieve
- At knowing of thy choice.
Florizel453 - 454
- Come, come, he must not.
- Mark our contract.
Polixenes455 - 462
- Mark your divorce, young sir,
- Discovering himself.
- Whom son I dare not call. Thou art too base
- To be acknowledg’d. Thou, a sceptre’s heir,
- That thus affects 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
- Of excellent witchcraft, whom of force must know
- The royal fool thou cop’st with—
- O, my heart!
Polixenes464 - 480
- I’ll have thy beauty scratch’d with briers and made
- More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy,
- 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,
- Farre than Deucalion off. Mark thou my words.
- 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 honor therein)
- 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.
Perdita481 - 490
- Even here undone!
- I was not much afeard; for once or twice
- I was about to speak, and tell him plainly
- The self-same sun that shines upon his court
- Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
- 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.
Camillo491 - 492
- Why, how now, father?
- Speak ere thou diest.
Old Shepherd493 - 506
- I cannot speak, nor think,
- Nor dare to know that which I know.
- To Florizel.
- O sir,
- You have undone a man of fourscore three,
- 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.
- To Perdita.
- O cursed wretch,
- 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 liv’d
- To die when I desire.
Florizel507 - 511
- Why look you so upon me?
- I am but sorry, not afeard; delay’d,
- But nothing alt’red. What I was, I am:
- More straining on for plucking back, not following
- My leash unwillingly.
Camillo512 - 518
- 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.
- Then till the fury of his Highness settle
- Come not before him.
Florizel519 - 520
- I not purpose it.
- I think Camillo?
- Even he, my lord.
Perdita522 - 524
- How often have I told you ’twould be thus!
- How often said my dignity would last
- But till ’twere known!
Florizel525 - 530
- It cannot fail, but by
- The violation of my faith, and then
- Let nature crush the sides o’ th’ earth together,
- And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks.
- From my succession wipe me, father, I
- Am heir to my affection.
- Be advis’d.
Florizel532 - 535
- I am—and by my fancy. If my reason
- Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;
- If not, my senses, better pleas’d with madness,
- Do bid it welcome.
- This is desperate, sir.
Florizel537 - 555
- So call it; but it does fulfill my vow;
- I needs must think it honesty. Camillo,
- Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may
- Be thereat gleaned, for all the sun sees, or
- The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hides
- In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath
- To this my fair belov’d. Therefore, I pray you,
- As you have ever been my father’s honor’d friend,
- When he shall miss me (as, in faith, I mean not
- To see him any more), cast your good counsels
- 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 who here I cannot hold on shore;
- And most opportune to her need I have
- A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar’d
- For this design. What course I mean to hold
- Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
- Concern me the reporting.
Camillo556 - 558
- O my lord,
- I would your spirit were easier for advice,
- Or stronger for your need.
Florizel559 - 560
- Hark, Perdita!
- Drawing her aside.
- To Camillo.
- I’ll hear you by and by.
Camillo561 - 567
- He’s irremovable,
- Resolv’d for flight. Now were I happy if
- His going I could frame to serve my turn,
- Save him from danger, do him love and honor,
- Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia
- And that unhappy king, my master, whom
- I so much thirst to see.
Florizel568 - 570
- Now, good Camillo,
- I am so fraught with curious business that
- I leave out ceremony.
Camillo571 - 573
- Sir, I think
- You have heard of my poor services, i’ th’ love
- That I have borne your father?
Florizel574 - 577
- Very nobly
- Have you deserv’d. It is my father’s music
- To speak your deeds; not little of his care
- To have them recompens’d as thought on.
Camillo578 - 591
- Well, my lord,
- If you may please to think I love the King,
- And through him what’s nearest to him, which is
- Your gracious self, embrace but my direction,
- If your more ponderous and settled project
- May suffer alteration. On mine honor,
- 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,
- There’s no disjunction to be made, but by
- (As heavens forefend!) your ruin—marry her,
- And with my best endeavors in your absence,
- Your discontenting father strive to qualify,
- And bring him up to liking.
Florizel592 - 595
- How, Camillo,
- May this (almost a miracle) be done?
- That I may call thee something more than man,
- And after that trust to thee.
Camillo596 - 597
- Have you thought on
- A place whereto you’ll go?
Florizel598 - 602
- Not any yet:
- But as th’ unthought-on accident is guilty
- To what we wildly do, so we profess
- Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies
- Of every wind that blows.
Camillo603 - 616
- 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
- (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 there, son, forgiveness,
- As ’twere i’ th’ father’s person; kisses the hands
- Of your fresh princess; o’er and o’er divides him
- ’Twixt his unkindness and his kindness: th’ one
- He chides to hell, and bids the other grow
- Faster than thought or time.
Florizel617 - 619
- Worthy Camillo,
- What color for my visitation shall I
- Hold up before him?
Camillo620 - 628
- Sent by the King your father
- To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir,
- 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
- But that you have your father’s bosom there,
- And speak his very heart.
Florizel629 - 630
- I am bound to you.
- There is some sap in this.
Camillo631 - 641
- A course more promising
- 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
- 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.
Perdita642 - 644
- One of these is true:
- I think affliction may subdue the check,
- But not take in the mind.
Camillo645 - 647
- Yea? Say you so?
- There shall not at your father’s house these seven years
- Be born another such.
Florizel648 - 650
- My good Camillo,
- She’s as forward of her breeding as
- She is i’ th’ rear ’our birth.
Camillo651 - 653
- I cannot say ’tis pity
- She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress
- To most that teach.
Perdita654 - 655
- Your pardon, sir; for this
- I’ll blush you thanks.
Florizel656 - 661
- 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,
- Nor shall appear in Sicilia.
Camillo662 - 667
- 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
- The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir,
- That you may know you shall not want—one word.
- They talk aside.
- Enter Autolycus laughing.
Autolycus668 - 688
- Ha, ha, what a fool Honesty is! And Trust, his sworn
- brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my
- trompery; not a counterfeit stone, not a 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
- hallow’d and brought a benediction to the buyer; by which
- means I saw whose purse was best in picture, and what I saw,
- to my good use I rememb’red. 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 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 pinch’d a placket, it was senseless; ’twas nothing to
- geld a codpiece of a purse; I would have fil’d keys off that
- hung in chains. No hearing, no feeling, but my sir’s song,
- 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 whoobub against his
- daughter and the King’s son, and scar’d my choughs from the
- chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army.
- Camillo, Florizel, and Perdita come forward.
Camillo689 - 690
- Nay, but my letters, by this means being there
- So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.
- And those that you’ll procure from King Leontes?
- Shall satisfy your father.
Perdita693 - 694
- Happy be you!
- All that you speak shows fair.
Camillo695 - 697
- Who have we here?
- Seeing Autolycus.
- We’ll make an instrument of this; omit
- Nothing may give us aid.
- If they have overheard me now—why, hanging.
Camillo699 - 700
- How now, good fellow? Why shak’st thou so?
- Fear not, man, here’s no harm intended to thee.
- I am a poor fellow, sir.
Camillo702 - 707
- 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 pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold
- thee, there’s some boot.
- Giving money.
Autolycus708 - 709
- I am a poor fellow, sir.
- I know ye well enough.
- Nay, prithee dispatch. The gentleman is half flayed already.
Autolycus711 - 712
- Are you in earnest, sir?
- I smell the trick on’t.
- Dispatch, I prithee.
Autolycus714 - 715
- Indeed I have had earnest, but I cannot with conscience take
Camillo716 - 724
- 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
- 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.
Perdita725 - 726
- I see the play so lies
- That I must bear a part.
Camillo727 - 728
- No remedy.
- Have you done there?
Florizel729 - 730
- Should I now meet my father,
- He would not call me son.
Camillo731 - 732
- Nay, you shall have no hat.
- Giving it to Perdita.
- Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend.
- Adieu, sir.
Florizel734 - 735
- O Perdita! What have we twain forgot?
- Pray you a word.
Camillo736 - 741
- 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
- I shall re-view Sicilia, for whose sight
- I have a woman’s longing.
Florizel742 - 743
- Fortune speed us!
- Thus we set on, Camillo, to th’ sea-side.
- The swifter speed the better.
- Exit with Florizel and Perdita.
Autolycus745 - 759
- I understand the business, I hear it. To have an open ear, a
- quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cutpurse; a
- good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for th’ other
- senses. I see 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
- himself is about a piece of iniquity: stealing away from his
- father with his 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.
- Enter Clown and Shepherd.
- Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot brain. Every
- lane’s end, every shop, church, session, hanging, yields a
- careful man work.
Clown760 - 762
- 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.
- Nay, but hear me.
- Nay—but hear me.
- Go to then.
Clown766 - 770
- She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood
- has not offended the King, and so your flesh and blood is
- not to be punish’d 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.
Old Shepherd771 - 774
- I will tell the King all, every word, yea, and his 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
Clown775 - 777
- Indeed brother-in-law was the farthest off you could have
- been to him, and then your blood had been the dearer by I
- know how much an ounce.
- Very wisely, puppies!
Old Shepherd779 - 780
- Well; let us to the King. There is that in this fardel will
- make him scratch his beard.
Autolycus781 - 782
- I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the
- flight of my master.
- Pray heartily he be at’ palace.
Autolycus784 - 786
- 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?
- To th’ palace, and it like your worship.
Autolycus788 - 791
- 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.
- We are but plain fellows, sir.
Autolycus793 - 796
- 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 they do not give us the lie.
Clown797 - 798
- Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not
- taken yourself with the manner.
- Are you a courtier, and’t like you, sir?
Autolycus800 - 808
- Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest 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? Think’st thou, for that I insinuate, that
- toze from thee thy 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.
- My business, sir, is to the King.
- What advocate hast thou to him?
- I know not, and’t like you.
- Advocate’s the court-word for a pheasant. Say you have none.
- None, sir; I have no pheasant cock, nor hen.
Autolycus814 - 816
- How blessed are we that are not simple men!
- Yet nature might have made me as these are,
- Therefore I will not disdain.
- This cannot be but a great courtier.
- His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely.
Clown819 - 820
- He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical. A great
- man, I’ll warrant; I know by the picking on ’s teeth.
- The fardel there? What’s i’ th’ fardel? Wherefore that box?
Old Shepherd822 - 824
- 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 th’ speech of him.
- Age, thou hast lost thy labor.
- Why, sir?
Autolycus827 - 830
- The King is not at the palace. He is gone aboard a new ship
- to purge melancholy and air himself; for if thou be’st
- capable of things serious, thou must know the King is full
- of grief.
Old Shepherd831 - 832
- So ’tis said, sir—about his son, that should have married a
- shepherd’s daughter.
Autolycus833 - 835
- If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly. The
- curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break
- the back of man, the heart of monster.
- Think you so, sir?
Autolycus837 - 844
- Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and
- vengeance bitter; but those 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 necessary. An old
- sheep-whistling rogue, a ram-tender, to offer to have his
- daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be ston’d; but
- that death is too soft for him, say I. Draw our throne into
- a sheep-cote!—all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy.
Clown845 - 846
- Has the old man e’er a son, sir, do you hear, and’t like
- you, sir?