Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had but looked big and spit at him, he 'ld have run. Aut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him. Clo. How do you now? Aut. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and walk: I will even take my leave of you,and pace softly towards my kinsman's. Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way? Aut. No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. Clo. Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing. Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir! [exit Clown.] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheepshearing too if I make not this cheat bring out another and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name put in the book of virtue ! : Song. Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a. [exit. SCENE IV. The Shepherd's cottage. Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA. Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora Peering in April's front. This your sheepshearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And you the queen on 't. Per. 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 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 Flo. I bless the time When my good falcon made her flight across Thy father's ground. 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, Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold The sternness of his presence? Flo. Apprehend 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-robed god, Golden Apoilo, a poor humble swain, As I seem now. Their transformations Per. 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 change this purpose, Or I my life. Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, With these forced thoughts, I prithee darken not The mirth o' the 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: |