Nothing but that; move ftill, ftill fo,
And own no other function.

So fingular in each particular,

*

Each your doing,

Crowns what you're doing in the prefent deeds,
That all your acts are Queens.

Per. O Doricles,

Your praises are too large; but that your youth
And the true blood, which peeps forth fairly through it,
Do plainly give you out an unftain'd fhepherd;
With wifdom I might fear, my Doricles,
You woo'd me the falfe way.

Flo. I think, you have'

As little skill to fear, as I have purpofe

To put you to't. But, come; our dance, I pray;
Your hand, my Perdita; fo turtles pair,

That never mean to part.

Per. I'll fwear for 'em t.

Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lafs, that ever Ran on the green-ford: nothing fhe does, or feems, But fmacks of fomething greater than herfelf, Too noble for this place.

Cam. He tells her fomething

That makes her blood look out: good footh, fhe is
The Queen of curds and cream.

* Each your doing,] That is, your manner in each act crowns the act.

I think, you have As little kill to fear· ] To have skill to do a thing was a phrafe then in ufe equivalent to our to have reason to do a thing. The Oxford Editor, ignorant of this, alters it to,

As little fkill in fear, which has no kind of fenfe in this place. WARBURTON.

Per. I'll fwear for 'em.]. I fancy this half line is placed to a wrong perfon, and that the king begins his fpeech afide...

Pol. I'll fear for 'em,
This is the prettieft, &c.

2 He tells her fomething,
That makes her Blood look on't:
Thus all the old Editions. The'
Meaning must be this. The
Prince tells her Something, that
calls the Blood up into her Cheeks
and makes her blush. She, but a
little before, ufes a like Expref
fion to describe the Prince's Sin
cerity.

your Youth

And the true Blood, which peeps
forth fairly through it,
Do plainly give you out an un-
fair'd Shepherd. THEO.

Cle.

Clo. Come on, ftrike up.

Dor. Mopfa must be your mistress; marry, garlick to mend her kiffing with-

Mop. Now in good time!

Clo. Not a word, a word; * we ftand upon our maxners: come, strike up.

Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdeffes. · Pol. Pray, good fhepherd, what fair fwain is this. Who dances with your daughter?

Shep. They call him Doricles, and he boafts himself
To have a worthy feeding 3; but I have it
Upon his own report, and I believe it:

He looks like footh; he fays, he loves my daughter,
I think fo too; for never gaz'd the moon
Upon the water, as he'll ftand and read,

As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
I think, there is not half a kifs to chufe

Who loves another beft.

Pol. She dances featly.

Shep. So fhe does any thing, tho' I report it
That fhould be filent; if young Doricles
Do light upon her, fhe fhall bring him that
Which he not dreams of.

Ser. O mafter, if you did but hear the pedler at the door, you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe; no, the bag-pipe could not move you; he fings feveral tunes, fafter than you'll tell mony; he utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grew to his tunes.

Clo. He could never come better; he fhall come in. I love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily fet down; or a very pleasant thing indeed, and fung lamentably.

Ser. He hath fongs for man, or woman, of all fizes; no milliner can fo fit his customers with gloves: he has the prettieft love-fongs for maids, fo without bawdry (which is ftrange), with fuch delicate burdens of didle-dos and fadings: jump her and thump her: and where fome ftretch-mouth'd rafçal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to anfwer, Whoop, do me no barm, good man; puts him off, flights him, with. Whoop, do me no harm, good man.

Pol. This is a brave fellow.

Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow; has he any unbraided wares * ?

Ser. He hath ribbons of all the colours i'th' rainbow; points, more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the grofs; inkles, caddiffes, cambricks, lawns; why, he fings them over, 'as they were Gods and Goddeffes; you would think a fmock were a fhe-angel, he fo chants to the fleeve band, and the work about the fquare on't.

4

Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in; and let him approach, finging.

Per. Forewarn him, that he use no fcurrilous words inf's tunes.

Clo. You have of thefe pedlers that have more in 'em than you'd think, fifter.

Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.

Enter Autolycus finging.

Lawn as white as driven fnow,
Cyprus black as e'er was crow;
Gloves as fweet as damask rofes,
Mafks for faces and for noses;
Bugle-bracelets, neck-lace amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber:
Golden quoifs, and ftomachers,
For my lads to give their dears:
Pins, and poaking-sticks of steel,
What maids lack from head to heel:
Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy,
Buy, lads, or elfe your laffes cry.

Come buy, &c.

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopfa, thou should't take no mony of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves.

Mop. I was promis'd them against the feaft, but they come not too late now.

Dor. He hath promis'd you more than that, or there be liars.

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'may be, he has paid you more; which will fhame you tó give him again.

Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? will they wear their plackets, where they fhould wear their faces? is there not milking time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle of thefe fecrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? 'tis well, they are whifp'ring. Clamour your tongues,

and not a word more.

Mop. I have done. Come, you promis'd me a tawdry lace, and a pair of fweet gloves.

Clo. Have I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and loft all my mony?

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

Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou fhalt lofe nothing here:

Aut. I hope fo, Sir, for I have about me many parcels of charge.

Clo. What haft here? ballads?

Mop. Pray now, buy fome; I love a ballad in print, or a life; for then we are fure they are true.

Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, how an afurer's wife was brought to bed with twenty mony bags at a burden; and how the long'd to eat adders' heads, and toads carbonado'd.

Mop. Is it true, think you?

Aut. Very true, and but a month old.

Dor. Blefs me from marrying an ufurer!

Aut. Here's the midwife's name to't, one mistress Taleporter, and five or fix honeft wives that were pre fent. Why fhould I carry lies abroad?

Mop. Pray you now, buy it.

Clo. Come on, lay it by, and let's firft fee more ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.

Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish that appear'd upon the coaft, on Wednesday the fourfcore of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and fung 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 true.

Dor. Is it true too, think

you?

the repetition of the ftrokes be- this is called clamouring them. comes much quicker than before: The allufion is humourous..

WARBURTON.