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Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence. But, 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 uneasy to get the cause of my. son's resort 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 ourselves. [Exeunt.
THE SAME. A ROAD NEAR THE SHEPHERD'S
Enter Autolycus, singing.
When daffodils begin to peer,
With, heigh! the doxy over the dale,-
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With, hey! the sweet birds, O, how they sing !→ Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
The lark, that tirra-lirra chants.
With, hey! with, hey! the thrush and the jay:Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
I have serv'd prince Florizel, and, in my time, wore three-pile; but now I am out of service:
But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?
The pale moon shines by night:
I then do most go right.
If tinkers may have leave to live,
My traffick is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me, Autolycus; who, being, as I am, litter'd under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles: With die, and drab, I purchased this caparison; and my revenue is the silly cheat: Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the highway: beating, and hanging, are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it.-A prize! a prize!
Clown. Let me see:-Every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields-pound and odd shilling: fifteen hundred shorn,-What comes the wool to?
Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine.
Clown. I cannot do't without counters.-Let me see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of sugar; five pound of currants;
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-andtwenty nosegays for the shearers: three-man songmen all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases: but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have saffron, to colour the warden pies; mace,-dates, -none; that's out of my note: nutmegs, seven; a race, or two, of ginger;—but that I may beg;-four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o'the sun.
Aut. O, that ever I was born!
[Groceling on the ground.
Clown. I'the name of me,
Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death!
Clown. Alack, poor soul; thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.
Aut. O, sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have receiv'd; which are mighty ones, and millions.
Clown. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter.
Aut. I am robb'd, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.
Clown. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man? Aut. A foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man. Clown. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the garments he hath left with thee; if this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot service.
me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy
[Helping him up.
Aut. O! good sir, tenderly; oh! ··
Clown. Alas, poor soul.
Aut. O, good sir, softly, good sir: I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out.
Clown. How now? canst stand?.
Aut. Softly, dear sir; [picks his pocket.] good sir, softly: you ha' done me a charitable office. Clown. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.
Aut. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want: Offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart.
Clown. What manner of fellow was he that robb'd you?
Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames: I knew him once a servant of the prince; I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipp'd out of the court.
Clown. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipp'd out of the court: they cherish it, to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide.
Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compass'd a motion of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies;
and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.
Clown. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.
Aut. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue, that put me into this apparel.
Clown. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but look'd big, and spit at him, he'd 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.
Clown. 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.
Clown. Shall I bring thee on the way? Aut. No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. Clown. 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 sheep-shearing too: If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unroll'd, and my name put in the book of virtue!
Jog on, jog on, the footh-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.