three and twenty, or that youth would fleep out the reff : for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting-hark you now - would any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two and twenty hunt this weather? they have scar'd away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will fooner find than the master; if any where I have them, 'tis by the sea-fide, brouzing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will, what have we here? [Taking up the Child.] Mercy on's, a bearne! a very pretty bearne! a boy or a child, I wonder! a pretty one, a very pretty one, sure some Icape: tho' I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the 'scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this, than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity, yet I'll tarry 'till my fon come: he hollow'd but even now. Whoa, ho-hoa!

Clo. Hilloa, loa!

Enter Clown.

Shep. What, art so near? if thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'st thou, man?

Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land; but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and it you cannot trust a bodkin's point. Sbep. Why, boy, how is it?

Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it rakes up the shore; but that's not to the point; oh the most piteous cry of the poor souls, sometimes to fee Pem, and not to see 'em: now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallow'd with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then the land-fight, to see how the bear tore out his shoulderbone, how he cry'd to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship, to see how the fea flap-dragon'd it. But first how the poor fouls roar'd, and the sea mock'd them. And how the poor gentleman roar'd, and the bear mock'd him; both roaring louder than the sea, or the weather.

Shep. 'Name of mercy, when was this, boy ?

Clo

Clo. Now, now, I have not winked since I saw these fights; the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman'; he's at it now.

Sbep. Would I had been by to have help'd the nobleman. Clo. I would you had been by the ship-side, to have help'd her; but there your charity would have lack'd footing.

Sbep. Heavy matters, heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thy felf; thou meet'st with things dying, I with things new born. Here's a fight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's child! look thee here; take up, take up, boy, open't; so, let's fee: it was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changling; open't; what's within, boy?

Clo. You're a made old man; if the fins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold, all gold, 1 Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. Up with it, keep it close: home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy, and to be so still requires nothing but fecrefie. Let my sheep go come, good boy, the next way home.

Clo. Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go fee if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten; they are never curst, but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it.

Shep. That's a good deed. If thou may'st difcern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th fight of him. Clo. Marry will I, and you shall help to put him i'th' ground. Shep. "Tis lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't. [Exeunt.

Time.

I

a

ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter Time as Chorus.

That please some, try all, both joy and terror
Of good and bad, that make and unfold error,

Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime
To me, or my swift paffage, that I flide
O'er fixteen years, and leave the growth untry'd
Of that wide gap; fince it is in my power
To o'er-throw law, and in one felf-born hour
To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass

E 3

The

1

The same I am, ere ancient'st order was,
Or what is now receiv'd. I witness to
The times that brought them in, so shall I do
To th' fresheft things now reigning, and make ftale
The glistering of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it: your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass, and give my scene fuch growing
As you had flept between. Leontes leaving
Th' effects of his fond jealoufies, so grieving
That he shuts up himself; imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bitbynia, and remember well,
There is a fon o'th' King's, whom Florizel
I now name to you, and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wondring. What of her ensues
I list not prophefie. But let Time's news
Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter,
And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is th'argument of time; of this allow,
If ever you have spent time worse ere now :
If never, yet that Time himself doth say,
He wishes earnestly you never may.

SCENE II. Court of Bithynia.
Enter Polixenes and Camillo.

[Exit.

Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate; 'tis a fickness denying thee any thing, a death to grant this. Cam. It is fixteen years fince I saw my country; though I have for the most part been aired abroad, I defire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King, my master, hath fent for me, to whose feeling forrows I might be fome allay, or I o'er-ween to think so, which is another spur to my departure.

Pol. As thou lov'st me, Comillo, wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now; the need I have of thee, thine own goodness hath made: better not to have had thee, than thus to want thee. Thou having made me bufineffes, which mone, without thee, can fufficiently manage, muft either stay to execute them thy felf, or take away with thee the very fervices thou hast done; which if I

have not enough confidered, as too much I cannot, to be more thankful to thee shall be my study, and my profit therein, the heaping friendship. Of that fatal country Sicilia pr'ythee speak no more, whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled King my brother, whose lofs of his most precious Queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when faw'st thou the Prince Florizel my fon? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them, when they have approved their virtues.

Cam. Sir, it is three days fince I saw the Prince; what his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I have (musingly) noted, he is of late much retired from Court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appear'd.

Pol, I have confider'd so much, Camillo, and with some care so far, that I have eyes under my service, which look upon his removedness ; from whom I have this intelligence, that he is feldom from the house of a most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate.

Cam. I have heard, Sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note; the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.

Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence; and, I fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the place, where we will (not appearing what we are) have some question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity, I think it not uneafie to get the cause of my son's refort thither. Pr'ythee be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia. Cam. I willingly obey your command.

Pol. My best Camillo, we must disguise our selves. [Exeunt. Enter Autolicus finging.

SCENE III. The Country.

When daffadils begin to peere,

With bey the doxy over the dale,

Why then comes in the faveet o' th' year :

For the red blood reigns o'er the winter's pale,

The

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With bey the Sweet birds O how they fing!

Doth fet my proggin progging tooth on edge,

For a quart of ale is a dish for a King.

The lark that tirra lyra chaunts,

With bey, with bey the thrush and the jay:

Are fummer Songs for me and my aunts,
While we lye tumbling in the bay.

:

I have ferved Prince. Florizel, and in my time wore threepile, but now I am out of service.

But shall I go mourn for that, my dear ?
The pale moon shines by night:
And when I wander bere and there,
I then do go moft right.
If tinkers may have leave to live,
And bear the fow-skin budget,
Then my account I well may give,
And in the stocks avouch it.

My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to leffer linnen. My father nam'd me Autolicus, who being, as I am, litter'd under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconfider'd trifles: with die and drab I purchas'd this caparison, * and my revenue is the fly cheat. Gallows and knocks are too powerful on the high-way, beating and hanging are terrors to me: for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. A prize! a prize!

Enter Clown.

Clo. Let me fee, every eleventh weather tods, every tod yields a pound and one odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wooll to ?

Aut. If the sprindge hold, the cock's mine. [Afide Clo. I cannot do't without compters. Let me fee, what am I to buy for our sheep-fhearing feast? three pound of fugar, five pound of currants, rice - what will this sister of mine do with rice? but my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for the shearers; † three-man fong* Meaning the poor ragged cloaths he had on.

+ Meaning those who fing Catches which are generally in three parts.

men