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| SCENE IV. The Shepherd's cottage. |
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Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA
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| FLORIZEL |
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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,
5 And you the queen on't.
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| PERDITA |
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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
10 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 it with a custom, I should blush
To see you so attired, sworn, I think,
15 To show myself a glass.
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| FLORIZEL |
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I bless the time
When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father's ground.
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| PERDITA |
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Now Jove afford you cause!
20 To me the difference forges dread; your greatness
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
25 Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how
Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
The sternness of his presence?
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| FLORIZEL |
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Apprehend
Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
30 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-robed god,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
35 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 honour, nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.
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| PERDITA |
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40 O, but, sir,
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
45 change this purpose,
Or I my life.
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| FLORIZEL |
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Thou dearest Perdita,
With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not
The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair,
50 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
55 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.
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| PERDITA |
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O lady Fortune,
60 Stand you auspicious!
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| FLORIZEL |
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See, your guests approach:
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.
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Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised
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| Shepherd |
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Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon
65 This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,
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
70 With labour 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
75 A way to make us better friends, more known.
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.
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| PERDITA |
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80 (To POLIXENES)
Sir, welcome:
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,
85 For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep
Seeming and savour all the winter long:
Grace and remembrance be to you both,
And welcome to our shearing!
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| POLIXENES |
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Shepherdess,
90 A fair one are you--well you fit our ages
With flowers of winter.
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| PERDITA |
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Sir, the year growing ancient,
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fairest
95 flowers o' the 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.
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| POLIXENES |
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100 Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Do you neglect them?
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| PERDITA |
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For I have heard it said
There is an art which in their piedness shares
With great creating nature.
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| POLIXENES |
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105 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
110 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.
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| PERDITA |
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115 So it is.
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| POLIXENES |
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Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,
And do not call them bastards.
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| PERDITA |
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I'll not put
The dibble in earth to set one slip of them;
120 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 flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram;
The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun
125 And with him rises weeping: these are flowers
Of middle summer, and I think they are given
To men of middle age. You're very welcome.
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| CAMILLO |
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I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
And only live by gazing.
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| PERDITA |
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130 Out, alas!
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
135 Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
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,
140 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 primroses
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
145 Bight Phoebus in his strength--a malady
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,
150 To strew him o'er and o'er!
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| FLORIZEL |
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What, like a corse?
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| PERDITA |
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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:
155 Methinks I play as I have seen them do
In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine
Does change my disposition.
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| FLORIZEL |
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What you do
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet.
160 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 ordering your affairs,
To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
165 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 deed,
That all your acts are queens.
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| PERDITA |
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170 O Doricles,
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,
175 You woo'd me the false way.
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| FLORIZEL |
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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,
180 That never mean to part.
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| PERDITA |
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I'll swear for 'em.
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| POLIXENES |
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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,
185 Too noble for this place.
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| CAMILLO |
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He tells her something
That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is
The queen of curds and cream.
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| Clown |
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Come on, strike up!
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| DORCAS |
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190 Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic,
To mend her kissing with!
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| MOPSA |
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Now, in good time!
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| Clown |
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Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners.
Come, strike up!
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Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses
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| POLIXENES |
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195 Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this
Which dances with your daughter?
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| Shepherd |
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They call him Doricles; and boasts himself
To have a worthy feeding: but I have it
Upon his own report and I believe it;
200 He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter:
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
205 Who loves another best.
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| POLIXENES |
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She dances featly.
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| Shepherd |
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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
210 Which he not dreams of.
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Enter Servant
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| Servant |
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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
215 utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's
ears grew to his tunes.
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| Clown |
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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
220 indeed and sung lamentably.
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| Servant |
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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
225 burthens of dildos and fadings, 'jump her and thump
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
230 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.'
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| POLIXENES |
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This is a brave fellow.
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| Clown |
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Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited
fellow. Has he any unbraided wares?
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| Servant |
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He hath ribbons of an the colours i' the rainbow;
235 points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can
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
240 to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't.
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| Clown |
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Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing.
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| PERDITA |
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Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in 's tunes.
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Exit Servant
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| Clown |
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You have of these pedlars, that have more in them
than you'ld think, sister.
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| PERDITA |
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245 Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
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Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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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;
250 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,
255 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.
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| Clown |
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If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take
no money of me; but being enthralled as I am, it
260 will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves.
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| MOPSA |
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I was promised them against the feast; but they come
not too late now.
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| DORCAS |
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He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.
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| MOPSA |
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He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has
265 paid you more, which will shame you to give him again.
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| Clown |
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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
270 secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all
our guests? 'tis well they are whispering: clamour
your tongues, and not a word more.
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| MOPSA |
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I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace
and a pair of sweet gloves.
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| Clown |
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275 Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way
and lost all my money?
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad;
therefore it behoves men to be wary.
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| Clown |
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Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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280 I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge.
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| Clown |
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What hast here? ballads?
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| MOPSA |
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Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o'
life, for then we are sure they are true.
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's
285 wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a
burthen and how she longed to eat adders' heads and
toads carbonadoed.
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| MOPSA |
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Is it true, think you?
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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Very true, and but a month old.
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| DORCAS |
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290 Bless me from marrying a usurer!
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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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?
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| MOPSA |
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Pray you now, buy it.
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| Clown |
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295 Come on, lay it by: and let's first see moe
ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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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
300 ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was
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.
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| DORCAS |
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Is it true too, think you?
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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305 Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than
my pack will hold.
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| Clown |
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Lay it by too: another.
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
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| MOPSA |
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Let's have some merry ones.
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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310 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.
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| MOPSA |
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We can both sing it: if thou'lt bear a part, thou
315 shalt hear; 'tis in three parts.
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| DORCAS |
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We had the tune on't a month ago.
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my
occupation; have at it with you.
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SONG
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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Get you hence, for I must go
320 Where it fits not you to know.
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| DORCAS |
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Whither?
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| MOPSA |
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O, whither?
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| DORCAS |
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Whither?
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| MOPSA |
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It becomes thy oath full well,
325 Thou to me thy secrets tell.
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| DORCAS |
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Me too, let me go thither.
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| MOPSA |
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Or thou goest to the orange or mill.
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| DORCAS |
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If to either, thou dost ill.
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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Neither.
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| DORCAS |
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330 What, neither?
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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Neither.
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| DORCAS |
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Thou hast sworn my love to be.
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| MOPSA |
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Thou hast sworn it more to me:
Then whither goest? say, whither?
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| Clown |
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335 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.
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Exit with DORCAS and MOPSA
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| AUTOLYCUS |
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340 And you shall pay well for 'em.
Follows singing
Will you buy any tape,
Or lace for your cape,
My dainty duck, my dear-a?
Any silk, any thread,
345 Any toys for your head,
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.
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Exit
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Re-enter Servant
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| Servant |
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350 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
355 not in't; but they themselves are o' the mind, if it
be not too rough for some that know little but
bowling, it will please plentifully.
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| Shepherd |
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Away! we'll none on 't: here has been too much
homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you.
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| POLIXENES |
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360 You weary those that refresh us: pray, let's see
these four threes of herdsmen.
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| Servant |
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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.
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| Shepherd |
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365 Leave your prating: since these good men are
pleased, let them come in; but quickly now.
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| Servant |
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Why, they stay at door, sir.
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Exit
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Here a dance of twelve Satyrs
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| POLIXENES |
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O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.
To CAMILLO
Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them.
370 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
375 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
380 Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited
For a reply, at least if you make a care
Of happy holding her.
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| FLORIZEL |
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Old sir, I know
She prizes not such trifles as these are:
385 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, who, it should seem,
Hath sometime loved! I take thy hand, this hand,
390 As soft as dove's down and as white as it,
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd
snow that's bolted
By the northern blasts twice o'er.
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| POLIXENES |
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What follows this?
395 How prettily the 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.
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| FLORIZEL |
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Do, and be witness to 't.
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| POLIXENES |
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400 And this my neighbour too?
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| FLORIZEL |
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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
405 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.
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| POLIXENES |
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410 Fairly offer'd.
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| CAMILLO |
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This shows a sound affection.
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| Shepherd |
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But, my daughter,
Say you the like to him?
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| PERDITA |
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I cannot speak
415 So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better:
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.
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| Shepherd |
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Take hands, a bargain!
And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't:
420 I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.
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| FLORIZEL |
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O, that must be
I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead,
I shall have more than you can dream of yet;
425 Enough then for your wonder. But, come on,
Contract us 'fore these witnesses.
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| Shepherd |
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Come, your hand;
And, daughter, yours.
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| POLIXENES |
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Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you;
430 Have you a father?
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| FLORIZEL |
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I have: but what of him?
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| POLIXENES |
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Knows he of this?
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| FLORIZEL |
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He neither does nor shall.
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| POLIXENES |
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Methinks a father
435 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 altering rheums? can he speak? hear?
440 Know man from man? dispute his own estate?
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing
But what he did being childish?
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| FLORIZEL |
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No, good sir;
He has his health and ampler strength indeed
445 Than most have of his age.
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| POLIXENES |
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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
450 The father, all whose joy is nothing else
But fair posterity, should hold some counsel
In such a business.
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| FLORIZEL |
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I yield all this;
But for some other reasons, my grave sir,
455 Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My father of this business.
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| POLIXENES |
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Let him know't.
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| FLORIZEL |
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He shall not.
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| POLIXENES |
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Prithee, let him.
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| FLORIZEL |
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460 No, he must not.
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| Shepherd |
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Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve
At knowing of thy choice.
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| FLORIZEL |
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Come, come, he must not.
Mark our contract.
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| POLIXENES |
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465 Mark your divorce, young sir,
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
470 But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece
Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know
The royal fool thou copest with,--
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| Shepherd |
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O, my heart!
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| POLIXENES |
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I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made
475 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,
480 Far 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,
485 That makes himself, but for our honour 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
490 As thou art tender to't.
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Exit
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| PERDITA |
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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
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