The glistering of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass and give my scene such growing
As you had slept between: Leontes leaving,
The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving
That he shuts up himself, imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bohemia, and remember well,
I mentioned a son o’ the king’s, which Florizel
I now name to you; and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wondering: what of her ensues
I list not prophecy; but let Time’s news
Be known when ’tis brought forth.
A shepherd’s daughter,
And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is the 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.
Exit
Scene 2
Bohemia. The palace of POLIXENES.
Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO
POLIXENES I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate:
’tis a sickness denying thee any thing; a death to
grant this.
CAMILLO It is fifteen years since I saw my country: though
I have for the most part been aired abroad, I
desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent
king, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling
sorrows I might be some allay, or I o’erween to
think so, which is another spur to my departure.
POLIXENES As thou lovest me, Camillo, 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 businesses which none without thee can
sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute
them thyself or take away with thee the very
services thou hast done; which if I have not enough
considered, as too much I cannot, to be more
thankful to thee shall be my study, and my profit
therein the heaping friendships. Of that fatal
country, Sicilia, prithee speak no more; whose very
naming punishes me with the remembrance of that
penitent, as thou callest him, and reconciled king,
my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen
and children are even now to be afresh lamented.
Say to me, when sawest thou the Prince Florizel, my
son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not
being gracious, than they are in losing them when
they have approved their virtues.
CAMILLO Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince. What
his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I
have missingly noted, he is of late much retired
from court and is less frequent to his princely
exercises than formerly he hath appeared.
POLIXENES I have considered 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 seldom 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.
CAMILLO 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.
POLIXENES 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.
Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and
lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.
CAMILLO I willingly obey your command.
POLIXENES My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves.
Exeunt
Scene 3
A road near the Shepherd’s cottage.
Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing
AUTOLYCUS When daffodils begin to peer,
With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale.
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With heigh! 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-lyra chants,
With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay,
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
I have served 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:
And when I wander here and there,
I then do most go right.
If tinkers may have leave to live,
And bear the sow-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
lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who
being, as I am, littered 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!
Enter Clown
Clown Let me see: every ‘leven wether tods; every tod
yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred
shorn. what comes the wool to?
AUTOLYCUS [Aside]
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, 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-song-men all, and very good
ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but
one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to
horn-pipes. 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.
AUTOLYCUS O that ever I was born!
Grovelling on the ground
Clown I’ the name of me–
AUTOLYCUS 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.
AUTOLYCUS O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more
than the stripes I have received, which are mighty
ones and millions.
Clown Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a
great matter.
AUTOLYCUS I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel
ta’en from me, and these detestable things put upon
me.
Clown What, by a horseman, or a footman?
AUTOLYCUS A footman, sweet sir, a footman.
Clown Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he
has left with thee: if this be a horseman’s coat,
it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand,
I’ll help thee: come, lend me thy hand.
AUTOLYCUS O, good sir, tenderly, O!
Clown Alas, poor soul!
AUTOLYCUS O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my
shoulder-blade is out.
Clown How now! canst stand?
AUTOLYCUS [Picking his pocket]
Softly, dear sir; good sir, softly. You ha’ done me
a charitable office.
Clown Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.
AUTOLYCUS 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 robbed you?
AUTOLYCUS A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with
troll-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 whipped out of the court.
Clown His vices, you would say; there’s no virtue whipped
out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay
there; and yet it will no more but abide.
AUTOLYCUS 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 compassed 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.
AUTOLYCUS Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that’s the rogue that