Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o' the king:
One of these two must be necessities, [purpose,
Which then will speak; that you must change this
Or I my life.

[purpose,

Per. For I have heard it said,

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 mar-
A gentler cyon to the wildest stock;

[not 25

And make conceive a bark of baser kind
By bud of nobler race: This is an art

Flo. Thou dearest Perdita,
With these forc'd thoughts, I prithee, darken
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 com-
Lift up your countenance; as it were the day [ing;
Of celebration of that nuptial, which
We two have sworn shall come.

[ry

The dibble in earth to set one slip of them :
35 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, savory, marjoram :

40 The marygold, that goes to bed with 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,
45 And only live by gazing.

Per. Out, alas!

You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
Wou'd blow you through and through.-Now, my
[might

fairest friend,

With labour; and the thing, she took to quench it, 50 I would, I had some flowers o' the spring, that

Become your time of day; and yours, and yours;
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing:-0 Proserpina,
For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fali
55 From Dis's waggon! daffodils,

She would to each one sip: You are retir'd,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting: Pray you, bid
These unknown friends to us welcome; for it is
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
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, [on,
As your good flock shall prosper.
Per. Sir, welcome! [To Pol. and Cam. 60
It is my father's will, I should take on me
The hostess-ship o'theday:-You're welcome, sir!
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverendsirs,

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 Phobus in hisstrength, a malady
Most incident to maids: bold ox-lips, and
The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds,

} Rue, was called herb of grace. Rosemary was anciently supposed to strengthen the memory, and is prescribed for that purpose in the books of ancient physic

The

The flour-de-lis being one! O, these I lack,
To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend,
To strow 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. Come, 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. O, Doricles,

Your praises are too large: but that your youth,
And the true blood, which peeps fairly through
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' to fear, as I 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.

it,

Ser. O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door, you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe; no, the bag-pipe could not move 10you; he sings several tunes, faster than you'll 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 on: I love a ballad but even too well; if it be 15 doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably.

Ser. 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; 20 so without bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burdens of dil-do's and fadings; jump her and thump her; and where some stretchmouth'd 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 Whoop, de 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'the rainbow; points, more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross; incles, caddisses', cambricks, 35 lawns: why, he sings them over, as they were gods or goddesses: you would think, a smock were a she-angel; he so chaunts to the sleeve-hand, and the work about the square on't".

Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in; and let him ap 40 proach singing,

[garlick, 45 [manners.

Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our

Come, strike up.

[ter: 50

Here a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses. Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what Fair swain is this, which dances with your daughShep. They call him Doricles; and he boast To have a worthy feeding?: but I have it [himself Upon his own report, and I believe it;

[ter;

He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daugh-55
I think so too; for never gaz'd 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 chuse,

Who loves another best.

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

Clo. You have of these pedlars, that have more in 'em 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;
Masks for faces and for noses;
Bugle bracelet, neck-lace amber;
Perfume for a lady's chamber;
Golden quoifs, and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears;
Pins, and poking-sticks of steel',
What maids lack from head to heel :

|60|

Come, buy of me, come: come buy, comebuy;
Buy, lads, or else your lusses cry:
Come buy, &c.

1 That is, reason. i. e. a considerable tract of pasturage. ' i. e. truth. i. e. undamaged, Mr. Steevens conjectures caddis to mean ferret. The work about the square on't probably signities the work or embroidery about the bosom part of a shift, which might then have been of a square form, or might have a square tucker. ?These poking sticks were heated in the fire, and made use of

to adjust the plaits of ruffs.

Clo

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou should'st take no money 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 feast; but they come not too late now.

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

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; 'tis in request, I can tell you.

Mop. We can both sing it; if thou'lt bear a
part, thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts.
Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago.
Aut. I can bear my part; you must know, 'tis

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you:
may be, he has paid you more; which will shame 10my occupation: have at it with you.
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 kill-hole, to whistle off these 15 secrets: but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispering: Clamour your tongues, and not a word more.

Mop. I have done. Come, you promis'd me a tawdry lace, and a pair of sweet gloves2. Clo. Have I not told thee, how I was cozen'd 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 no-25 thing 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 30 print, a-life'; for then we are sure they are true.

Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How
an usurer's wife was brought to bed with twenty
money-bags at a burden; and how she long'd 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 40 were present: Why should I carry lies abroad?

Mop. Pray you now, buy it.

Clo. Come on, lay it by: And let's first see more ballads: we'll buy the other things anon. Aut. Here's another ballad, Of a fish, that ap-45 pear'd upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore ofApril, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung 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 50 flesh with one that lov'd 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.

SON G.
A. Get you hence, for I must go;
Where, it fits not you to know.

D. Whither? M. O, Whither? Whither?
M. It becomes thy oath full well,
Thou to me thy secrets tell:

D. Me too, let me go thither.
M. Or thou go'st to the
grange, or mill:
D. If to either, thou dost ill.

A. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Neither.
D. Thou hast sworn my love to be;
M. Thou hast sworn it more to me:

Then, whither go'st? suy,whither?

Clo. 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.

Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. [Aside.
Will you buy any tape,

Or lace for your cape,
My dainty duck, my deur-a?
Any silk, any thread,

Any toys for your head,

Of the new'st, and fin'st, fin'st wear-a?
Come to the pedlar;

Money's a medler,

That doth utter all men's ware-a.

[Exe. Clown, Autolycus, Dorcas, and Mopsa. Enter a Servant.

Ser. Master, there are 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 wenchessay is a gallimaufry 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.

Shep. Away! we'll none on't; here has been too much homely foolery already :—I know, sir, we weary you.

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

Ser. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danc'd before the king; and not the worst of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by the square.

When bells are at the height, in order to cease them, the repetition of the strokes becomes much quicker than before; this is called clamouring them. 2 Sweet or perfumed gloves, were very fashionable in the age of Elizabeth, and long afterwards. Tawdry laces were worn about the ladies' heads, necks, and waists. 1i. e. at life. * i. e. serious. i. e. bring out, or produce. ⚫ Men of hair, are hairy men, or sutyṛs. A dance of safyrs was no unusual entertainment in those times.

Shep.

Shep. Leave your prating; since these good men are pleas'd, let them come in ; but quickly now. Ser. Why, they stay at door, sir.

Here a dance of twelve Satyrs.

Pol. [Aside] O, father, you'll know more of 5 that hereafter.

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

Your heart is full of something, that doth take
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young,
And handed love, as you do, I was wont [sack'
To load my she with knacks: I would have ran-
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,
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.-O, hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
Hath sometime 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, 'twas 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

And, daughter, yours.

Pol. Soft, swain, a while, '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;

10 Is not father
your grown incapable

[hear?
Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid
With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak
Know man from man: dispute his own estate1?
Lies he not bed-rid? and gain does nothing,
15 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,

20 You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
Something uniilial: Reason, my son

Should chuse himself a wife; but as good reason,
The father (all whose oy is nothing else
But fair posterity) should hold some counsel
25n such a business.

301

Flo. I yield all this;

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

Pol. Let him know't.

Flo. He shall not.

Pol. Pr'ythee, let him.

Flo. No, he must not.

Shep. Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve 35 At knowing of thy choice.

Than he, and men; the earth, the heavens and all:
That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, 40
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve; had force and know-
[them,
ledge,

More than was ever man's,-I would not prize
Without her love: for her, employ them all;
Commend them, and condemn them, to her ser-
Or to their own perdition.

Pol. Fairly offer'd.

Cam. This shews a sound affection.

Shep. But, my daughter,

Say you the like to him?

Per. I cannot speak

[vice,

So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better:
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.

Shep. Take hands, a bargain;

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

Flo. O, that must be

I' 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 ;

Flo. Come, come, he must not:-
Mark our contract.

Pol. Mark your divorce, young sir,

[Disc vering 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 tray-
I am sorry, that, by hanging thee, I can but [tor,
Shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece
Of excellent witchcraft; who, of force, must know
The royal fool thou cop'st with ;-

Shep. O, my heart!

[made

Pol. I'll havethy beauty scratch'd with briars and More homely than thy state.--For thee, fond boy,-50f I may ever know, thou dost but sigh, [never That thou no more shalt never see this knack, (as I mean thou shalt) we'll bar thee from succession; Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, Far than Deucalion off: Mark thou my words; 55 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,
60 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,
65 As thou art tender to it.

Meaning, defend or take care of his own estate.
A a

[Exit.

Per

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 court,
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike.-Wil't please you, sir, be gone?
[To Florizel.

I told you, what would come of this: 'Beseech you,
Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,-
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,
But milk my ewes and weep.

Cam. Why, how now, father?
Speak, ere thou diest.

Shep. I cannot speak, nor think,

Nor dare to know that which I know.-O, sir,
[To Florizel.

You have undone a man of fourscore three,
That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
To die upon the bed my father dy'd,
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'.-O cursed wretch!
[To Perdita.

That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st
adventure

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

Flo. Why look you so upon me?

I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd,
But nothing alter'd: What I was, I am :

[Exit.

More straining on, for plucking back; not follow-
My leash unwillingly.

Cam. Gracious my lord,

You know your father's temper: at this time
He will allow no speech,-which, I do 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.

[ing

Per. How often have I told you''twould be thus ?
How often said my dignity would last
But 'till 'twere known?

Flo. It cannot fail, but by

The violation of my faith; and then

To this my fair belov'd: Therefore, I pray you,
As you have ever been my father's friend,
When he shall miss me, (as in faith I mean not
To see him any more) cast your good counsels
5 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 cannnot hold on shore;
And, most opportune to our need, I have
10A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd
For this design. What course I mean to hold,
Shalt nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concern me the reporting.

Cam. O my lord,

20 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
25I so much thirst to see.

Cam. Well, my lord,

If you may please to think I love the king;
And, through him, what is nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self; embrace but my direction,
0(If your more ponderous and settled project
May suffer alteration) on mine honour,

I'll point you where you shall have such re-
ceiving

As shall become your highness; where you may 45 Enjoy your mistress; from the whom, Isee, There's no disjunction to be made but by (As heavens forfend!) your ruin: Marry her; And (with my best endeavours in your absence) Your discontenting father I'll strive to qualify, And bring him up to liking.

Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together,
And mar the seeds within!-Lift up thy looks:-50
From my succession wipe me, father! I

Am heir to my affection.

Cam. Be advis'd.

Flo. I am; and by my fancy 2: if my reason
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 sea hides
In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath

1551

Flo. Now, 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'll go?

Flo. Not any vet:

But as the unthought-on accident is guilty

To what we wildly do; so we profess

60 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;

This part of the priest's office was not left off till the reign of Edward VI. 2i. e. love.

And

« Previous Continue »

Books