Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers 1
Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind
Our rustic garden 's barren, and I care not
To get slips of them.

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,

Do you neglect them ?

Per. For I have heard it paid,

There is an art which, in their piedness, shares
With great creating nature.

Pol. Say, there be ;

Yet nature is made better by no mean,
But nature makes that mean : so, o'er 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.

Per. So it is.

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

Per. I '11 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. 't were well, and only therefore
Desire to breed by me. Here 's flowers for you ;
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram;
The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun,
And with him rises weeping : these are flowers
Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given
To men of middle age. You are very welcome.

Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
And only live by gazing.

Per. Out, alas !

Vou '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
Become your time of day ; and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing : Proserpina !
For the flowers now. that, frighted, thou let'st fall

1 Old copies : gillyvors.



6C. III. THE WINTER'S TALE. 371

From Dis's waggon ! 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 primroses,

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 kindf,

The flower-de-luce being one. ! these I lack,

Tc make you garlands of, and, my sweet friend.

To strew him o'er 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. Uome, take your flowers.
Methinks, I play as I have seen them do
In Whitsun-pastorals : sure, this robe of mine
Does change my disposition.

Flo. What you do

Still 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 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
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.

Per. Doricles !

Your praises are too large : but that your youth,
And the true blood, which peeps so fairly through it,
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd,
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
You woo'd me the false way.

Flo. I think, you have

As little skill 1 to fear, as 1 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.

Per. I'll swear for 'em.

< Reason



372 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT iv

Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever
Ran on the green-sward : nothing she docs, or says 1 ,
But smacks of something greater than herself:
Too noble for this place.

Cam. He tells her something,

That wakes her blood : look on 't. s Good sooth, she is
Th3 queen of curds and cream.

Clo. Come on, strike up.

Dor. Mopsa rtiust be your mistress : marry, garlick,
To mend her kissing with.

Mop. Now, in good time

Clo. Not a word, a word : we stand upon our man-
ners.

Come, strike up. [Music.

[Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.

Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this,
Which dances with your daughter ?

Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himself
To have a worthy breeding : 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 '11 stand, and read,
A.S 'twere, my daughter's eyes; and, to be plain,
I think, there is not half a kiss to choose,
Who loves another best.

Pol. She dances featly.

Shep. 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 a Servant.

Serv. master ! if you did but hear the pedler 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 '11 tell money ; he
utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears
grew to his tunes.

Clo. He could never come better : he shall come in.
I love a ballad but even too well ; if it be doleful mat-
ter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed,
and f ung lamentably.

Serv. He hath songs, for man, or woman, of all sizes

i seems : in f. e. That makes her blood look on 't : in f. e.



sc. in. THE WINTER'S TALE. 373

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 1 ;" " jump her and thump
her ;" and where some stretch'd-mouth'd rascal would,
as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul jape 2 in
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."
Pol This is a brave fellow.

Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable-con-
ceited fellow. Has he any embroided* wares ?

Serv. He hath ribands of all the colours i' the rain-
bow ; points,* more than all the lawyers in Bohemia
can learnedly handle though they come to him by the
gross : inkles,* caddisses, 6 cambrics, lawns : why he
sings them over, as they were gods or goddesses. You
would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants to
the sleeve-band 7 , and the work about the square 8 on 't.
Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in, and let him approach
singing.

Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous words
in 's tunes.

Clo. You have of these pedlers, that have more in
them than you 'd think, sister.

Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing.

Lawn, as white as driven snow ;

Cyprus, black as e'er was crow ;

Gloves, as sweet as damask roses j

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 9 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.

1 A fading -was also a dvice. 3 Jest. f. e. : gap. 3 nnbraided :
in f. e. * Tags to the strings used to fasten dresses. Tape. Gal-
loon, i sleeve-hand : in f. e. * Bosom. Used, wl en heated, to set
Ihe claits of ruffs.



374 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT rr.

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsf,, thou shouldst
take no money of me ; but being enthrall'd as I am,
it will also be the bondage of certain ribands and
gloves.

Mop. I was promised them against the feast, but
they come not too late now.

Dor. He hath promised you more than that, or
Ihere be liars.

Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you : may
be, he has paid you more, which will shame you to
give him again.

Clo. 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 whisper 1 off these secrets, but
you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests ? 'T is
well they are whispering. Charm 2 your tongues, and
not a word more.

Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a
tawdry lace, and a pair of sweet gloves.

Clo. Have I not told thee, how I was cozened by
the way, and lost all my money ?

Aut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad:
therefore, it behoves men to be wary.

Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing
here.

Aut. I hope so, sir; for I have about me many
parcels of charge.

Clo. What hast here ? ballads ?

Mop. Pray now, buy some : I love a ballad in print
o'-life, for then we are sure they are true.

Aut. 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 longed to eat adders'
heads, and toads carbonadoed.

Mop. Is it true, think you?

Aut. Very true . and but a month old.

Dor Bless me from marrying a usurer !

Aut. Here 's the midwife's name to 't, one mistress
Taleporter, and five or six honest wives' that were
present. Why should I carry lies abrosid ?

Mop. 'Pray you now, buy it.

1 thistle : in f. e. 2 Clamour : in 1. e.



so. in. THE WINTER'S TALE. 375

Clo. Come on, lay it by; and let's first see more
ballads ; we '11 buy the other things anon.

Aut. Here 's another ballad, c-f a fish, that appeared
upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore of April,
forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this bal-
lad 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.
* Dor. Is it true too, think you?

Aut. Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more
than my pack will hold.

Clo. Lay it by too : another.

Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
Mop. Let 's have some merry ones.
Aut. 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 : 't is in re-
quest, I can tell you.

Mop. We can both sing it : if thou 'It bear a part,
thou shalt hear ; 't is in three parts.

Dor. We had the tune on 't a month ago.
Au*. I can bear my part you must know, 't is my
occupation: have at it with you.

SONG.

Aut. Get you hence, for I must go,
Whither fits not you to know.
Dor. Whither?
Mop. ! whither ?
Dor. Whither?
Mop. It becomes thy oath full well,

Thou to me thy secrets tell.
Dor. Me too : let me go thither.
Mop. Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill
Dor. If to either, thou dost ill.
Aut Neither.
Dor. Wh->t, neither?
Aut. Neither.

Dor. Thou hast sworn my love to be y
Mop. Thou hast sworn it more to me :

Then, whither go?st ? say, whither ?
Clo. We '11 have this song out anon by ourselves.
My father and the gentlemen are in sad 1 talk, and

1 Serious.



S76 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT iv.

we '11 riot trouble them : come, bring away thy pack
after me. Wenches, I '11 buy ibr you both. Pedler,
let's have the first choice. Follow me, girls.

[Exeunt Clown, DORCAS, and MOPSA.*
Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. {Aside

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 newest, and finest, finest wear-a?
Come to the pedler ;
Money J s a medler,
That doth utter all men's ware-a.

[Exit after them.
Enter a Servant.

Serv. Master, there is three carters, three shep-
herds, 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 2 of gambols, because they are 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.

Shcp. Away ! we '11 none on 't : here has been too
much homely foolery already. I know, sir, K& weary
you.

Pol. You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let 's
see these four threes of herdsmen.

Serv. 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 square. 3
Shep. Leave your prating. Since these good men
are pleased, let them come in : but quickly now.
Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit.

Re-enter Servant, with Twelve Rustics habited like

Satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt.
Pol. father ! you '11 know more of that here-
after,

Is it not too far gone ? 'T is time to part them.
He 's simple, and tells much. How now, fair shepherd?

1 in f. e. these characters make their exit -with ATITOLYCUS, after
the next sng. 3 A dish, made up of scraps. 3 Fr. esquierre, a foot-



sc. in. THE WINTER'S TALE. 377

Your heart is full of something, that, docs take

Your mind from feasting. Sooih," when I was young,

And handled love as you do, I was wont

To load my she with knacks : I would have ransack't

The pedler'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.

Flo. 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. ! hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir. who, it should seem,
Hath sometimes 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 the northern blasts twice o'er.

Pol. What follows this ?

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.

Flo. Do, and be witness to 't.

Pol. And this my neighbour too ?

Flo. 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 sense,' 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.

Pol. Fairly offer'd.

Cam. This shows a sound affection.

Shep. But, my daughter

Say you the like to him ?

Per. I cannot speak

So well, nothing so well no. nor mean better .

i force : in {. e.



378 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT iv.

By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.

Shep. Take hands ; a bargain :

[Joining their hands.

And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't.
I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.

Flo. 01 that must be

[' the 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.

Shep. Come, your hand :

And, daughter, yours.

Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you

Have you a father ?

Flo. I have ; but what of him ?

Pol. Knows he of this ?

Flo. He neither does, nor shall.

Pol. 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 altering rheums ? Can he speak ? hear
Know man from man ? dispose 2 his own estate ?
Lies he not bed-rid ? and again, does nothing,
But what he did being childish ?

Flo. No, good sir :

He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed,
Than most have of his age.

Pol. 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.

Flo. I yield all this :

But for some other reasons, my grave sir,
Which ; t is not fit you know, I not acquaint
My father of this business.

Pol. Let him know 't.

' Not in f. e. disnte : in f e.



KG. in. THE WINTER'S TALE. 379

Flo. He shall not.

Pol. Pr'ythee, let him.

Flo. No. he must not

Shcp. Let him. my son: he shall not need to grieve
At knowing of thy choice.

Flo. Come, come, he must not.-

Mark our contract.

Pol. 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 affect' st 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, who of force must know
The royal fool thou cop'st with

Per. 0. my heart !

Pol. I '11 have thy beauty scratch'd with briars, 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 never 1 see this knack, (as nevei
I mean thou shalt) we '11 bar thee from succession ;
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our kin,
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 j yea, him too,
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,
As thou art tender to 't. [Exit

Per. 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 oourt,
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike. Will 't please you, sir, be gone?

[To FLORI/EL
I told you, what would come of this. Beseech you.

1 Doubling negtttires was frequent with writers of the time.



380 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT nr.

Of your own state take care . this dream of mine,
Being now awake, I '11 queen it no inch farther,
But milk my ewes, and weep.

Cam. Why, how now, father r

Spenk, ere thou diest.

Shcp. I cannot speak, nor think,

Nor dare to know that which I know. 0. sir,

[To FIORIZEI..

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. 0, cursed wretch !

[To PERDITA
That knew'st this was the prince, and wouldst adven

ture

To mingle faith with him. Undone ! undone !
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire. [Exit

Flo. Why look you so upon me ?

I am but sorry, not afeard ; delay' d,
But nothing alter'd. What I was, I am :
More straining on, for plucking back ; not following
My leash unwillingly.

Cam. Gracious my lord.

You know your father's temper : at this lime
He will allow no speech, (which, I Ho 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.

Flo. I not purpose it.

I think. Camillo?

Cam. Even he, my lord.

Per. How often have I told you 't would be thus ?
How often said my dignity would last
But till 't were known?

Flo. It cannot fail, but by

The violation of my fait\ ; and then,
Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together,
And mar the seeds within. Lift up thy looxs :
From my succession wipe me. father; I
Am heir to my affection.



c. in. THE WINTER'S TALE. 38\

Cam. Be advis'd.

Flo. I am ; and by my fancy 1 : if my reasoa
Will thereto be obedient, I have reason ;
If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness,
Do bid it welcome.

Cam. This is desperate, sir.

Flo. So call it ; but it does fulfil my vow :
I needs must think it honesty. Camillo,
Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may
Be thereat glean'd ; for all the sun sees, or
The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide
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 honoured 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, whom here I cannot hold on shore ;
And, most opportune to our 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.

Cam. 0, my lord !

I would your spirit were easier for advice,
Or stronger for your need.

Flo. Hark, Perdita.

[To CAMILLO.] I '11 hear you by and by. [They talkaparl.*

Cam. 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 honour,
Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia,
And that unhappy king, my master, whom
I so much thirst to see.

Flo. Now, good Camillo,

I am so fraught with serious business, that
I leave out ceremony. [Going

Cam. Sir, I think,

You have heard of my poor services, i ; the, love
That I have borne your father ?

> Lovt a Not in f. e.



382 THE WINTER'S TALE. ACT rv.

Flo. Very tobly

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.

Cam. 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 honour
I '11 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 endeavours in your absence)
Your discontenting father strive to qualify,
And bring him up to liking.

Flo. How, Camillo,

May this, almost a miracle, be done,
That I may call thee something more than man,
And, after that, trust to thee.

Cam. Have you thought on

A place whereto you '11 go?

Flo. 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.

Cam. 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
Leonles. opening his free arms, and weeping
His welcomes forth ; asks thee, the son, forgiveness.
As 't were i ; the 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.

Flo. Worthy Camillo,



8C. III. THE WINTER S TALE. 6H6

What colour for my visitation shall I
Hold up before him ?

Cam. Sent by the king, your fa.ther,

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.

Flo. I am bound to you.

There is some sap in this.

Cam. 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 '11 be loth to be. Besides, you know,
Prosperity 's the very bond of love,
Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together
Affliction alters.

Per. One of these is true :

I think, affliction may subdue the cheek,
But not take in the mind.

Cam. Yea, say you so?

There shall not, at your father's house, these seven

years,
Be born another such.

Flo. My good Camillo,

She is as forward of her breeding, as
She is i' the rear of birth.

Cam. I cannot say, 't is pity

She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress
To most that teach.

Per. Your pardon, sir; for this

I '11 blush you thanks.

Flo. My prettiest Perdita