The Winters Tale

 
 Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
 
 Enter Camillo and Archidamus.
 
   Arch. If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on
 the like occasion whereon my seruices are now
 on-foot, you shall see (as I haue said) great difference
 betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia
 
    Cam. I thinke, this comming Summer, the King of
 Sicilia meanes to pay Bohemia the Visitation, which hee
 iustly owes him
 
    Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall shame vs: we
 will be iustified in our Loues: for indeed-
   Cam. 'Beseech you-
   Arch. Verely I speake it in the freedome of my knowledge:
 we cannot with such magnificence- in so rare-
 I know not what to say- Wee will giue you sleepie
 Drinkes, that your Sences (vn-intelligent of our insufficience)
 may, though they cannot prayse vs, as little accuse
 vs
 
    Cam. You pay a great deale to deare, for what's giuen
 freely
 
    Arch. 'Beleeue me, I speake as my vnderstanding instructs
 me, and as mine honestie puts it to vtterance
 
    Cam. Sicilia cannot shew himselfe ouer-kind to Bohemia:
 They were trayn'd together in their Childhoods;
 and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection,
 which cannot chuse but braunch now. Since their more
 mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made seperation
 of their Societie, their Encounters (though not Personall)
 hath been Royally attornyed with enter-change of
 Gifts, Letters, louing Embassies, that they haue seem'd to
 be together, though absent: shooke hands, as ouer a Vast;
 and embrac'd as it were from the ends of opposed Winds.
 The Heauens continue their Loues
 
    Arch. I thinke there is not in the World, either Malice
 or Matter, to alter it. You haue an vnspeakable comfort
 of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a Gentleman of the
 greatest Promise, that euer came into my Note
 
    Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him:
 it is a gallant Child; one, that (indeed) Physicks the Subiect,
 makes old hearts fresh: they that went on Crutches
 ere he was borne, desire yet their life, to see him a Man
 
    Arch. Would they else be content to die?
   Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse, why they should
 desire to liue
 
    Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would desire to
 liue on Crutches till he had one.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scoena Secunda.
 
 Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.
 
   Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been
 The Shepheards Note, since we haue left our Throne
 Without a Burthen: Time as long againe
 Would be fill'd vp (my Brother) with our Thanks,
 And yet we should, for perpetuitie,
 Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher
 (Yet standing in rich place) I multiply
 With one we thanke you, many thousands moe,
 That goe before it
 
    Leo. Stay your Thanks a while,
 And pay them when you part
 
    Pol. Sir, that's to morrow:
 I am question'd by my feares, of what may chance,
 Or breed vpon our absence, that may blow
 No sneaping Winds at home, to make vs say,
 This is put forth too truly: besides, I haue stay'd
 To tyre your Royaltie
 
    Leo. We are tougher (Brother)
 Then you can put vs to't
 
    Pol. No longer stay
 
    Leo. One Seue' night longer
 
    Pol. Very sooth, to morrow
 
    Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that
 Ile no gaine-saying
 
    Pol. Presse me not ('beseech you) so:
 There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' World
 So soone as yours, could win me: so it should now,
 Were there necessitie in your request, although
 'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My Affaires
 Doe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder,
 Were (in your Loue) a Whip to me; my stay,
 To you a Charge, and Trouble: to saue both,
 Farewell (our Brother.)
   Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? speake you
 
    Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntill
 You had drawne Oathes from him, not to stay: you (Sir)
 Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure
 All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction,
 The by-gone-day proclaym'd, say this to him,
 He's beat from his best ward
 
    Leo. Well said, Hermione
 
    Her. To tell, he longs to see his Sonne, were strong:
 But let him say so then, and let him goe;
 But let him sweare so, and he shall not stay,
 Wee'l thwack him hence with Distaffes.
 Yet of your Royall presence, Ile aduenture
 The borrow of a Weeke. When at Bohemia
 You take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commission,
 To let him there a Moneth, behind the Gest
 Prefix'd for's parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes,
 I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind
 What Lady she her Lord. You'le stay?
   Pol. No, Madame
 
    Her. Nay, but you will?
   Pol. I may not verely
 
    Her. Verely?
 You put me off with limber Vowes: but I,
 Though you would seek t' vnsphere the Stars with Oaths,
 Should yet say, Sir, no going: Verely
 You shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely 'is
 As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet?
 Force me to keepe you as a Prisoner,
 Not like a Guest: so you shall pay your Fees
 When you depart, and saue your Thanks. How say you?
 My Prisoner? or my Guest? by your dread Verely,
 One of them you shall be
 
    Pol. Your Guest then, Madame:
 To be your Prisoner, should import offending;
 Which is for me, lesse easie to commit,
 Then you to punish
 
    Her. Not your Gaoler then,
 But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question you
 Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes:
 You were pretty Lordings then?
   Pol. We were (faire Queene)
 Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind,
 But such a day to morrow, as to day,
 And to be Boy eternall
 
    Her. Was not my Lord
 The veryer Wag o'th' two?
   Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun,
 And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd,
 Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew not
 The Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd
 That any did: Had we pursu'd that life,
 And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'd
 With stronger blood, we should haue answer'd Heauen
 Boldly, not guilty; the Imposition clear'd,
 Hereditarie ours
 
    Her. By this we gather
 You haue tript since
 
    Pol. O my most sacred Lady,
 Temptations haue since then been borne to's: for
 In those vnfledg'd dayes, was my Wife a Girle;
 Your precious selfe had then not cross'd the eyes
 Of my young Play-fellow
 
    Her. Grace to boot:
 Of this make no conclusion, least you say
 Your Queene and I are Deuils: yet goe on,
 Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le answere,
 If you first sinn'd with vs: and that with vs
 You did continue fault; and that you slipt not
 With any, but with vs
 
    Leo. Is he woon yet?
   Her. Hee'le stay (my Lord.)
   Leo. At my request, he would not:
 Hermione (my dearest) thou neuer spoak'st
 To better purpose
 
    Her. Neuer?
   Leo. Neuer, but once
 
    Her. What? haue I twice said well? when was't before?
 I prethee tell me: cram's with prayse, and make's
 As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tonguelesse,
 Slaughters a thousand, wayting vpon that.
 Our prayses are our Wages. You may ride's
 With one soft Kisse a thousand Furlongs, ere
 With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale:
 My last good deed, was to entreat his stay.
 What was my first? it ha's an elder Sister,
 Or I mistake you: O, would her Name were Grace.
 But once before I spoke to th' purpose? when?
 Nay, let me haue't: I long
 
    Leo. Why, that was when
 Three crabbed Moneths had sowr'd themselues to death,
 Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand:
 A clap thy selfe, my Loue; then didst thou vtter,
 I am yours for euer
 
    Her. 'Tis Grace indeed.
 Why lo-you now; I haue spoke to th' purpose twice:
 The one, for euer earn'd a Royall Husband;
 Th' other, for some while a Friend
 
    Leo. Too hot, too hot:
 To mingle friendship farre, is mingling bloods.
 I haue Tremor Cordis on me: my heart daunces,
 But not for ioy; not ioy. This Entertainment
 May a free face put on: deriue a Libertie
 From Heartinesse, from Bountie, fertile Bosome,
 And well become the Agent: 't may; I graunt:
 But to be padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers,
 As now they are, and making practis'd Smiles
 As in a Looking-Glasse; and then to sigh, as 'twere
 The Mort o'th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment
 My Bosome likes not, nor my Browes. Mamillius,
 Art thou my Boy?
   Mam. I, my good Lord
 
    Leo. I'fecks:
 Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't smutch'd thy Nose?
 They say it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captaine,
 We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, Captaine:
 And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe,
 Are all call'd Neat. Still Virginalling
 Vpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calfe)
 Art thou my Calfe?
   Mam. Yes, if you will (my Lord.)
   Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haue
 To be full, like me: yet they say we are
 Almost as like as Egges; Women say so,
 (That will say any thing.) But were they false
 As o're-dy'd Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; false
 As Dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes
 No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true,
 To say this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page)
 Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine,
 Most dear'st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be
 Affection? thy Intention stabs the Center.
 Thou do'st make possible things not so held,
 Communicat'st with Dreames (how can this be?)
 With what's vnreall: thou coactiue art,
 And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent,
 Thou may'st co-ioyne with something, and thou do'st,
 (And that beyond Commission) and I find it,
 (And that to the infection of my Braines,
 And hardning of my Browes.)
   Pol. What meanes Sicilia?
   Her. He something seemes vnsetled
 
    Pol. How? my Lord?
   Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, best Brother?
   Her. You look as if you held a Brow of much distraction:
 Are you mou'd (my Lord?)
   Leo. No, in good earnest.
 How sometimes Nature will betray it's folly?
 It's tendernesse? and make it selfe a Pastime
 To harder bosomes? Looking on the Lynes
 Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle
 Twentie three yeeres, and saw my selfe vn-breech'd,
 In my greene Veluet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd,
 Least it should bite it's Master, and so proue
 (As Ornaments oft do's) too dangerous:
 How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell,
 This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend,
 Will you take Egges for Money?
   Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight
 
    Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My Brother
 Are you so fond of your young Prince, as we
 Doe seeme to be of ours?
   Pol. If at home (Sir)
 He's all my Exercise, my Mirth, my Matter;
 Now my sworne Friend, and then mine Enemy;
 My Parasite, my Souldier: States-man; all:
 He makes a Iulyes day, short as December,
 And with his varying childnesse, cures in me
 Thoughts, that would thick my blood
 
    Leo. So stands this Squire
 Offic'd with me: We two will walke (my Lord)
 And leaue you to your grauer steps. Hermione,
 How thou lou'st vs, shew in our Brothers welcome;
 Let what is deare in Sicily, be cheape:
 Next to thy selfe, and my young Rouer, he's
 Apparant to my heart
 
    Her. If you would seeke vs,
 We are yours i'th' Garden: shall's attend you there?
   Leo. To your owne bents dispose you: you'le be found,
 Be you beneath the Sky: I am angling now,
 (Though you perceiue me not how I giue Lyne)
 Goe too, goe too.
 How she holds vp the Neb? the Byll to him?
 And armes her with the boldnesse of a Wife
 To her allowing Husband. Gone already,
 Ynch-thick, knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one.
 Goe play (Boy) play: thy Mother playes, and I
 Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue
 Will hisse me to my Graue: Contempt and Clamor
 Will be my Knell. Goe play (Boy) play, there haue been
 (Or I am much deceiu'd) Cuckolds ere now,
 And many a man there is (euen at this present,
 Now, while I speake this) holds his Wife by th' Arme,
 That little thinkes she ha's been sluyc'd in's absence,
 And his Pond fish'd by his next Neighbor (by
 Sir Smile, his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't,
 Whiles other men haue Gates, and those Gates open'd
 (As mine) against their will. Should all despaire
 That haue reuolted Wiues, the tenth of Mankind
 Would hang themselues. Physick for't, there's none:
 It is a bawdy Planet, that will strike
 Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powrefull: thinke it:
 From East, West, North, and South, be it concluded,
 No Barricado for a Belly. Know't,
 It will let in and out the Enemy,
 With bag and baggage: many thousand on's
 Haue the Disease, and feele't not. How now Boy?
   Mam. I am like you say
 
    Leo. Why, that's some comfort.
 What? Camillo there?
   Cam. I, my good Lord
 
    Leo. Goe play (Mamillius) thou'rt an honest man:
 Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer
 
    Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold,
 When you cast out, it still came home
 
    Leo. Didst note it?
   Cam. He would not stay at your Petitions, made
 His Businesse more materiall
 
    Leo. Didst perceiue it?
 They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding:
 Sicilia is a so-forth: 'tis farre gone,
 When I shall gust it last. How cam't (Camillo)
 That he did stay?
   Cam. At the good Queenes entreatie
 
    Leo. At the Queenes be't: Good should be pertinent,
 But so it is, it is not. Was this taken
 By any vnderstanding Pate but thine?
 For thy Conceit is soaking, will draw in
 More then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't,
 But of the finer Natures? by some Seueralls
 Of Head-peece extraordinarie? Lower Messes
 Perchance are to this Businesse purblind? say
 
    Cam. Businesse, my Lord? I thinke most vnderstand
 Bohemia stayes here longer
 
    Leo. Ha?
   Cam. Stayes here longer
 
    Leo. I, but why?
   Cam. To satisfie your Highnesse, and the Entreaties
 Of our most gracious Mistresse
 
    Leo. Satisfie?
 Th' entreaties of your Mistresse? Satisfie?
 Let that suffice. I haue trusted thee (Camillo)
 With all the neerest things to my heart, as well
 My Chamber-Councels, wherein (Priest-like) thou
 Hast cleans'd my Bosome: I, from thee departed
 Thy Penitent reform'd: but we haue been
 Deceiu'd in thy Integritie, deceiu'd
 In that which seemes so
 
    Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.)
   Leo. To bide vpon't: thou art not honest: or
 If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a Coward,
 Which hoxes honestie behind, restrayning
 From Course requir'd: or else thou must be counted
 A Seruant, grafted in my serious Trust,
 And therein negligent: or else a Foole,
 That seest a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne,
 And tak'st it all for ieast
 
    Cam. My gracious Lord,
 I may be negligent, foolish, and fearefull,
 In euery one of these, no man is free,
 But that his negligence, his folly, feare,
 Among the infinite doings of the World,
 Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.)
 If euer I were wilfull-negligent,
 It was my folly: if industriously
 I play'd the Foole, it was my negligence,
 Not weighing well the end: if euer fearefull
 To doe a thing, where I the issue doubted,
 Whereof the execution did cry out
 Against the non-performance, 'twas a feare
 Which oft infects the wisest: these (my Lord)
 Are such allow'd Infirmities, that honestie
 Is neuer free of. But beseech your Grace
 Be plainer with me, let me know my Trespas
 By it's owne visage; if I then deny it,
 'Tis none of mine
 
    Leo. Ha' not you seene Camillo?
 (But that's past doubt: you haue, or your eye-glasse
 Is thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard?
 (For to a Vision so apparant, Rumor
 Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation
 Resides not in that man, that do's not thinke)
 My Wife is slipperie? If thou wilt confesse,
 Or else be impudently negatiue,
 To haue nor Eyes, nor Eares, nor Thought, then say
 My Wife's a Holy-Horse, deserues a Name
 As ranke as any Flax-Wench, that puts to
 Before her troth-plight: say't, and iustify't
 
    Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to heare
 My Soueraigne Mistresse clouded so, without
 My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart,
 You neuer spoke what did become you lesse
 Then this; which to reiterate, were sin
 As deepe as that, though true
 
    Leo. Is whispering nothing?
 Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke? is meating Noses?
 Kissing with in-side Lip? stopping the Cariere
 Of Laughter, with a sigh? (a Note infallible
 Of breaking Honestie) horsing foot on foot?
 Skulking in corners? wishing Clocks more swift?
 Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night? and all Eyes
 Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely,
 That would vnseene be wicked? Is this nothing?
 Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing,
 The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing,
 My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue these Nothings,
 If this be nothing
 
    Cam. Good my Lord, be cur'd
 Of this diseas'd Opinion, and betimes,
 For 'tis most dangerous
 
    Leo. Say it be, 'tis true
 
    Cam. No, no, my Lord
 
    Leo. It is: you lye, you lye:
 I say thou lyest Camillo, and I hate thee,
 Pronounce thee a grosse Lowt, a mindlesse Slaue,
 Or else a houering Temporizer, that
 Canst with thine eyes at once see good and euill,
 Inclining to them both: were my Wiues Liuer
 Infected (as her life) she would not liue
 The running of one Glasse
 
    Cam. Who do's infect her?
   Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hanging
 About his neck (Bohemia) who, if I
 Had Seruants true about me, that bare eyes
 To see alike mine Honor, as their Profits,
 (Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe that
 Which should vndoe more doing: I, and thou
 His Cup-bearer, whom I from meaner forme
 Haue Bench'd, and rear'd to Worship, who may'st see
 Plainely, as Heauen sees Earth, and Earth sees Heauen,
 How I am gall'd, might'st be-spice a Cup,
 To giue mine Enemy a lasting Winke:
 Which Draught to me, were cordiall
 
    Cam. Sir (my Lord)
 I could doe this, and that with no rash Potion,
 But with a lingring Dram, that should not worke
 Maliciously, like Poyson: But I cannot
 Beleeue this Crack to be in my dread Mistresse
 (So soueraignely being Honorable.)
 I haue lou'd thee,
   Leo. Make that thy question, and goe rot:
 Do'st thinke I am so muddy, so vnsetled,
 To appoint my selfe in this vexation?
 Sully the puritie and whitenesse of my Sheetes
 (Which to preserue, is Sleepe; which being spotted,
 Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tayles of Waspes)
 Giue scandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne,
 (Who I doe thinke is mine, and loue as mine)
 Without ripe mouing to't? Would I doe this?
 Could man so blench?
   Cam. I must beleeue you (Sir)
 I doe, and will fetch off Bohemia for't:
 Prouided, that when hee's remou'd, your Highnesse
 Will take againe your Queene, as yours at first,
 Euen for your Sonnes sake, and thereby for sealing
 The Iniurie of Tongues, in Courts and Kingdomes
 Knowne, and ally'd to yours
 
    Leo. Thou do'st aduise me,
 Euen so as I mine owne course haue set downe:
 Ile giue no blemish to her Honor, none
 
    Cam. My Lord,
 Goe then; and with a countenance as cleare
 As Friendship weares at Feasts, keepe with Bohemia,
 And with your Queene: I am his Cup-bearer,
 If from me he haue wholesome Beueridge,
 Account me not your Seruant
 
    Leo. This is all:
 Do't, and thou hast the one halfe of my heart;
 Do't not, thou splitt'st thine owne
 
    Cam. Ile do't, my Lord
 
    Leo. I wil seeme friendly, as thou hast aduis'd me.
 
 Exit
 
   Cam. O miserable Lady. But for me,
 What case stand I in? I must be the poysoner
 Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't,
 Is the obedience to a Master; one,
 Who in Rebellion with himselfe, will haue
 All that are his, so too. To doe this deed,
 Promotion followes: If I could find example
 Of thousand's that had struck anoynted Kings,
 And flourish'd after, Il'd not do't: But since
 Nor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one,
 Let Villanie it selfe forswear't. I must
 Forsake the Court: to do't, or no, is certaine
 To me a breake-neck. Happy Starre raigne now,
 Here comes Bohemia.
 Enter Polixenes.
 
   Pol. This is strange: Me thinkes
 My fauor here begins to warpe. Not speake?
 Good day Camillo
 
    Cam. Hayle most Royall Sir
 
    Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court?
   Cam. None rare (my Lord.)
   Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance,
 As he had lost some Prouince, and a Region
 Lou'd, as he loues himselfe: euen now I met him
 With customarie complement, when hee
 Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling
 A Lippe of much contempt, speedes from me, and
 So leaues me, to consider what is breeding,
 That changes thus his Manners
 
    Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.)
   Pol. How, dare not? doe not? doe you know, and dare not?
 Be intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts:
 For to your selfe, what you doe know, you must,
 And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
 Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror,
 Which shewes me mine chang'd too: for I must be
 A partie in this alteration, finding
 My selfe thus alter'd with't
 
    Cam. There is a sicknesse
 Which puts some of vs in distemper, but
 I cannot name the Disease, and it is caught
 Of you, that yet are well
 
    Pol. How caught of me?
 Make me not sighted like the Basilisque.
 I haue look'd on thousands, who haue sped the better
 By my regard, but kill'd none so: Camillo,
 As you are certainely a Gentleman, thereto
 Clerke-like experienc'd, which no lesse adornes
 Our Gentry, then our Parents Noble Names,
 In whose successe we are gentle: I beseech you,
 If you know ought which do's behoue my knowledge,
 Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not
 In ignorant concealement
 
    Cam. I may not answere
 
    Pol. A Sicknesse caught of me, and yet I well?
 I must be answer'd. Do'st thou heare Camillo,
 I coniure thee, by all the parts of man,
 Which Honor do's acknowledge, whereof the least
 Is not this Suit of mine, that thou declare
 What incidencie thou do'st ghesse of harme
 Is creeping toward me; how farre off, how neere,
 Which way to be preuented, if to be:
 If not, how best to beare it
 
    Cam. Sir, I will tell you,
 Since I am charg'd in Honor, and by him
 That I thinke Honorable: therefore marke my counsaile,
 Which must be eu'n as swiftly followed, as
 I meane to vtter it; or both your selfe, and me,
 Cry lost, and so good night
 
    Pol. On, good Camillo
 
    Cam. I am appointed him to murther you
 
    Pol. By whom, Camillo?
   Cam. By the King
 
    Pol. For what?
   Cam. He thinkes, nay with all confidence he sweares,
 As he had seen't, or beene an Instrument
 To vice you to't, that you haue toucht his Queene
 Forbiddenly
 
    Pol. Oh then, my best blood turne
 To an infected Gelly, and my Name
 Be yoak'd with his, that did betray the Best:
 Turne then my freshest Reputation to
 A sauour, that may strike the dullest Nosthrill
 Where I arriue, and my approch be shun'd,
 Nay hated too, worse then the great'st Infection
 That ere was heard, or read
 
    Cam. Sweare his thought ouer
 By each particular Starre in Heauen, and
 By all their Influences; you may as well
 Forbid the Sea for to obey the Moone,
 As (or by Oath) remoue, or (Counsaile) shake
 The Fabrick of his Folly, whose foundation
 Is pyl'd vpon his Faith, and will continue
 The standing of his Body
 
    Pol. How should this grow?
   Cam. I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to
 Auoid what's growne, then question how 'tis borne.
 If therefore you dare trust my honestie,
 That lyes enclosed in this Trunke, which you
 Shall beare along impawnd, away to Night,
 Your Followers I will whisper to the Businesse,
 And will by twoes, and threes, at seuerall Posternes,
 Cleare them o'th' Citie: For my selfe, Ile put
 My fortunes to your seruice (which are here
 By this discouerie lost.) Be not vncertaine,
 For by the honor of my Parents, I
 Haue vttred Truth: which if you seeke to proue,
 I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer,
 Then one condemnd by the Kings owne mouth:
 Thereon his Execution sworne
 
    Pol. I doe beleeue thee:
 I saw his heart in's face. Giue me thy hand,
 Be Pilot to me, and thy places shall
 Still neighbour mine. My Ships are ready, and
 My people did expect my hence departure
 Two dayes agoe. This Iealousie
 Is for a precious Creature: as shee's rare,
 Must it be great; and, as his Person's mightie,
 Must it be violent: and, as he do's conceiue,
 He is dishonor'd by a man, which euer
 Profess'd to him: why his Reuenges must
 In that be made more bitter. Feare ore-shades me:
 Good Expedition be my friend, and comfort
 The gracious Queene, part of his Theame; but nothing
 Of his ill-ta'ne suspition. Come Camillo,
 I will respect thee as a Father, if
 Thou bear'st my life off, hence: Let vs auoid
 
    Cam. It is in mine authoritie to command
 The Keyes of all the Posternes: Please your Highnesse
 To take the vrgent houre. Come Sir, away.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
 
 Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes, Antigonus, Lords.
 
   Her. Take the Boy to you: he so troubles me,
 'Tis past enduring
 
    Lady. Come (my gracious Lord)
 Shall I be your play-fellow?
   Mam. No, Ile none of you
 
    Lady. Why (my sweet Lord?)
   Mam. You'le kisse me hard, and speake to me, as if
 I were a Baby still. I loue you better
 
    2.Lady. And why so (my Lord?)
   Mam. Not for because
 Your Browes are blacker (yet black-browes they say
 Become some Women best, so that there be not
 Too much haire there, but in a Cemicircle,
 Or a halfe-Moone, made with a Pen.)
   2.Lady. Who taught 'this?
   Mam. I learn'd it out of Womens faces: pray now,
 What colour are your eye-browes?
   Lady. Blew (my Lord.)
   Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I haue seene a Ladies Nose
 That ha's beene blew, but not her eye-browes
 
    Lady. Harke ye,
 The Queene (your Mother) rounds apace: we shall
 Present our seruices to a fine new Prince
 One of these dayes, and then youl'd wanton with vs,
 If we would haue you
 
    2.Lady. She is spread of late
 Into a goodly Bulke (good time encounter her.)
   Her. What wisdome stirs amongst you? Come Sir, now
 I am for you againe: 'Pray you sit by vs,
 And tell's a Tale
 
    Mam. Merry, or sad, shal't be?
   Her. As merry as you will
 
    Mam. A sad Tale's best for Winter:
 I haue one of Sprights, and Goblins
 
    Her. Let's haue that (good Sir.)
 Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best,
 To fright me with your Sprights: you're powrefull at it
 
    Mam. There was a man
 
    Her. Nay, come sit downe: then on
 
    Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard: I will tell it softly,
 Yond Crickets shall not heare it
 
    Her. Come on then, and giu't me in mine eare
 
    Leon. Was hee met there? his Traine? Camillo with
 him?
   Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, neuer
 Saw I men scowre so on their way: I eyed them
 Euen to their Ships
 
    Leo. How blest am I
 In my iust Censure? in my true Opinion?
 Alack, for lesser knowledge, how accurs'd,
 In being so blest? There may be in the Cup
 A Spider steep'd, and one may drinke; depart,
 And yet partake no venome: (for his knowledge
 Is not infected) but if one present
 Th' abhor'd Ingredient to his eye, make knowne
 How he hath drunke, he cracks his gorge, his sides
 With violent Hefts: I haue drunke, and seene the Spider.
 Camillo was his helpe in this, his Pandar:
 There is a Plot against my Life, my Crowne;
 All's true that is mistrusted: that false Villaine,
 Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:
 He ha's discouer'd my Designe, and I
 Remaine a pinch'd Thing; yea, a very Trick
 For them to play at will: how came the Posternes
 So easily open?
   Lord. By his great authority,
 Which often hath no lesse preuail'd, then so,
 On your command
 
    Leo. I know't too well.
 Giue me the Boy, I am glad you did not nurse him:
 Though he do's beare some signes of me, yet you
 Haue too much blood in him
 
    Her. What is this? Sport?
   Leo. Beare the Boy hence, he shall not come about her,
 Away with him, and let her sport her selfe
 With that shee's big-with, for 'tis Polixenes
 Ha's made thee swell thus
 
    Her. But Il'd say he had not;
 And Ile be sworne you would beleeue my saying,
 How e're you leane to th' Nay-ward
 
    Leo. You (my Lords)
 Looke on her, marke her well: be but about
 To say she is a goodly Lady, and
 The iustice of your hearts will thereto adde
 'Tis pitty shee's not honest: Honorable;
 Prayse her but for this her without-dore-Forme,
 (Which on my faith deserues high speech) and straight
 The Shrug, the Hum, or Ha, (these Petty-brands
 That Calumnie doth vse; Oh, I am out,
 That Mercy do's, for Calumnie will seare
 Vertue it selfe) these Shrugs, these Hum's, and Ha's,
 When you haue said shee's goodly, come betweene,
 Ere you can say shee's honest: But be't knowne
 (From him that ha's most cause to grieue it should be)
 Shee's an Adultresse
 
    Her. Should a Villaine say so,
 (The most replenish'd Villaine in the World)
 He were as much more Villaine: you (my Lord)
 Doe but mistake
 
    Leo. You haue mistooke (my Lady)
 Polixenes for Leontes: O thou Thing,
 (Which Ile not call a Creature of thy place,
 Least Barbarisme (making me the precedent)
 Should a like Language vse to all degrees,
 And mannerly distinguishment leaue out,
 Betwixt the Prince and Begger:) I haue said
 Shee's an Adultresse, I haue said with whom:
 More; shee's a Traytor, and Camillo is
 A Federarie with her, and one that knowes
 What she should shame to know her selfe,
 But with her most vild Principall: that shee's
 A Bed-swaruer, euen as bad as those
 That Vulgars giue bold'st Titles; I, and priuy
 To this their late escape
 
    Her. No (by my life)
 Priuy to none of this: how will this grieue you,
 When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that
 You thus haue publish'd me? Gentle my Lord,
 You scarce can right me throughly, then, to say
 You did mistake
 
    Leo. No: if I mistake
 In those Foundations which I build vpon,
 The Centre is not bigge enough to beare
 A Schoole-Boyes Top. Away with her, to Prison:
 He who shall speake for her, is a farre-off guiltie,
 But that he speakes
 
    Her. There's some ill Planet raignes:
 I must be patient, till the Heauens looke
 With an aspect more fauorable. Good my Lords,
 I am not prone to weeping (as our Sex
 Commonly are) the want of which vaine dew
 Perchance shall dry your pitties: but I haue
 That honorable Griefe lodg'd here, which burnes
 Worse then Teares drowne: 'beseech you all (my Lords)
 With thoughts so qualified, as your Charities
 Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
 The Kings will be perform'd
 
    Leo. Shall I be heard?
   Her. Who is't that goes with me? 'beseech your Highnes
 My Women may be with me, for you see
 My plight requires it. Doe not weepe (good Fooles)
 There is no cause: When you shall know your Mistris
 Ha's deseru'd Prison, then abound in Teares,
 As I come out; this Action I now goe on,
 Is for my better grace. Adieu (my Lord)
 I neuer wish'd to see you sorry, now
 I trust I shall: my Women come, you haue leaue
 
    Leo. Goe, doe our bidding: hence
 
    Lord. Beseech your Highnesse call the Queene againe
 
    Antig. Be certaine what you do (Sir) least your Iustice
 Proue violence, in the which three great ones suffer,
 Your Selfe, your Queene, your Sonne
 
    Lord. For her (my Lord)
 I dare my life lay downe, and will do't (Sir)
 Please you t' accept it, that the Queene is spotlesse
 I'th' eyes of Heauen, and to you (I meane
 In this, which you accuse her.)
   Antig. If it proue
 Shee's otherwise, Ile keepe my Stables where
 I lodge my Wife, Ile goe in couples with her:
 Then when I feele, and see her, no farther trust her:
 For euery ynch of Woman in the World,
 I, euery dram of Womans flesh is false,
 If she be
 
    Leo. Hold your peaces
 
    Lord. Good my Lord
 
    Antig. It is for you we speake, not for our selues:
 You are abus'd, and by some putter on,
 That will be damn'd for't: would I knew the Villaine,
 I would Land-damne him: be she honor-flaw'd,
 I haue three daughters: the eldest is eleuen;
 The second, and the third, nine: and some fiue:
 If this proue true, they'l pay for't. By mine Honor
 Ile gell'd em all: fourteene they shall not see
 To bring false generations: they are co-heyres,
 And I had rather glib my selfe, then they
 Should not produce faire issue
 
    Leo. Cease, no more:
 You smell this businesse with a sence as cold
 As is a dead-mans nose: but I do see't, and feel't,
 As you feele doing thus: and see withall
 The Instruments that feele
 
    Antig. If it be so,
 We neede no graue to burie honesty,
 There's not a graine of it, the face to sweeten
 Of the whole dungy-earth
 
    Leo. What? lacke I credit?
   Lord. I had rather you did lacke then I (my Lord)
 Vpon this ground: and more it would content me
 To haue her Honor true, then your suspition
 Be blam'd for't how you might
 
    Leo. Why what neede we
 Commune with you of this? but rather follow
 Our forcefull instigation? Our prerogatiue
 Cals not your Counsailes, but our naturall goodnesse
 Imparts this: which, if you, or stupified,
 Or seeming so, in skill, cannot, or will not
 Rellish a truth, like vs: informe your selues,
 We neede no more of your aduice: the matter,
 The losse, the gaine, the ord'ring on't,
 Is all properly ours
 
    Antig. And I wish (my Liege)
 You had onely in your silent iudgement tride it,
 Without more ouerture
 
    Leo. How could that be?
 Either thou art most ignorant by age,
 Or thou wer't borne a foole: Camillo's flight
 Added to their Familiarity
 (Which was as grosse, as euer touch'd coniecture,
 That lack'd sight onely, nought for approbation
 But onely seeing, all other circumstances
 Made vp to'th deed) doth push-on this proceeding.
 Yet, for a greater confirmation
 (For in an Acte of this importance, 'twere
 Most pitteous to be wilde) I haue dispatch'd in post,
 To sacred Delphos, to Appollo's Temple,
 Cleomines and Dion, whom you know
 Of stuff'd-sufficiency: Now, from the Oracle
 They will bring all, whose spirituall counsaile had
 Shall stop, or spurre me. Haue I done well?
   Lord. Well done (my Lord.)
   Leo. Though I am satisfide, and neede no more
 Then what I know, yet shall the Oracle
 Giue rest to th' mindes of others; such as he
 Whose ignorant credulitie, will not
 Come vp to th' truth. So haue we thought it good
 From our free person, she should be confinde,
 Least that the treachery of the two, fled hence,
 Be left her to performe. Come follow vs,
 We are to speake in publique: for this businesse
 Will raise vs all
 
    Antig. To laughter, as I take it,
 If the good truth, were knowne.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Scena Secunda.
 
 Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Gaoler, Emilia.
 
   Paul. The Keeper of the prison, call to him:
 Let him haue knowledge who I am. Good Lady,
 No Court in Europe is too good for thee,
 What dost thou then in prison? Now good Sir,
 You know me, do you not?
   Gao. For a worthy Lady,
 And one, who much I honour
 
    Pau. Pray you then,
 Conduct me to the Queene
 
    Gao. I may not (Madam)
 To the contrary I haue expresse commandment
 
    Pau. Here's ado, to locke vp honesty & honour from
 Th' accesse of gentle visitors. Is't lawfull pray you
 To see her Women? Any of them? Emilia?
   Gao. So please you (Madam)
 To put a-part these your attendants, I
 Shall bring Emilia forth
 
    Pau. I pray now call her:
 With-draw your selues
 
    Gao. And Madam,
 I must be present at your Conference
 
    Pau. Well: be't so: prethee.
 Heere's such adoe, to make no staine, a staine,
 As passes colouring. Deare Gentlewoman,
 How fares our gracious Lady?
   Emil. As well as one so great, and so forlorne
 May hold together: On her frights, and greefes
 (Which neuer tender Lady hath borne greater)
 She is, something before her time, deliuer'd
 
    Pau. A boy?
   Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe,
 Lusty, and like to liue: the Queene receiues
 Much comfort in't: Sayes, my poore prisoner,
 I am innocent as you,
   Pau. I dare be sworne:
 These dangerous, vnsafe Lunes i'th' King, beshrew them:
 He must be told on't, and he shall: the office
 Becomes a woman best. Ile take't vpon me,
 If I proue hony-mouth'd, let my tongue blister.
 And neuer to my red-look'd Anger bee
 The Trumpet any more: pray you (Emilia)
 Commend my best obedience to the Queene,
 If she dares trust me with her little babe,
 I'le shew't the King, and vndertake to bee
 Her Aduocate to th' lowd'st. We do not know
 How he may soften at the sight o'th' Childe:
 The silence often of pure innocence
 Perswades, when speaking failes
 
    Emil. Most worthy Madam,
 Your honor, and your goodnesse is so euident,
 That your free vndertaking cannot misse
 A thriuing yssue: there is no Lady liuing
 So meete for this great errand; please your Ladiship
 To visit the next roome, Ile presently
 Acquaint the Queene of your most noble offer,
 Who, but to day hammered of this designe,
 But durst not tempt a minister of honour
 Least she should be deny'd
 
    Paul. Tell her (Emilia)
 Ile vse that tongue I haue: If wit flow from't
 As boldnesse from my bosome, le't not be doubted
 I shall do good,
   Emil. Now be you blest for it.
 Ile to the Queene: please you come something neerer
 
    Gao. Madam, if't please the Queene to send the babe,
 I know not what I shall incurre, to passe it,
 Hauing no warrant
 
    Pau. You neede not feare it (sir)
 This Childe was prisoner to the wombe, and is
 By Law and processe of great Nature, thence
 Free'd, and enfranchis'd, not a partie to
 The anger of the King, nor guilty of
 (If any be) the trespasse of the Queene
 
    Gao. I do beleeue it
 
    Paul. Do not you feare: vpon mine honor, I
 Will stand betwixt you, and danger.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Scaena Tertia.
 
 Enter Leontes, Seruants, Paulina, Antigonus, and Lords.
 
   Leo. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but weaknesse
 To beare the matter thus: meere weaknesse, if
 The cause were not in being: part o'th cause,
 She, th' Adultresse: for the harlot-King
 Is quite beyond mine Arme, out of the blanke
 And leuell of my braine: plot-proofe: but shee,
 I can hooke to me: say that she were gone,
 Giuen to the fire, a moity of my rest
 Might come to me againe. Whose there?
   Ser. My Lord
 
    Leo. How do's the boy?
   Ser. He tooke good rest to night: 'tis hop'd
 His sicknesse is discharg'd
 
    Leo. To see his Noblenesse,
 Conceyuing the dishonour of his Mother.
 He straight declin'd, droop'd, tooke it deeply,
 Fasten'd, and fix'd the shame on't in himselfe:
 Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleepe,
 And down-right languish'd. Leaue me solely: goe,
 See how he fares: Fie, fie, no thought of him,
 The very thought of my Reuenges that way
 Recoyle vpon me: in himselfe too mightie,
 And in his parties, his Alliance; Let him be,
 Vntill a time may serue. For present vengeance
 Take it on her: Camillo, and Polixenes
 Laugh at me: make their pastime at my sorrow:
 They should not laugh, if I could reach them, nor
 Shall she, within my powre.
 Enter Paulina.
 
   Lord. You must not enter
 
    Paul. Nay rather (good my Lords) be second to me:
 Feare you his tyrannous passion more (alas)
 Then the Queenes life? A gracious innocent soule,
 More free, then he is iealous
 
    Antig. That's enough
 
    Ser. Madam; he hath not slept to night, commanded
 None should come at him
 
    Pau. Not so hot (good Sir)
 I come to bring him sleepe. 'Tis such as you
 That creepe like shadowes by him, and do sighe
 At each his needlesse heauings: such as you
 Nourish the cause of his awaking. I
 Do come with words, as medicinall, as true;
 (Honest, as either;) to purge him of that humor,
 That presses him from sleepe
 
    Leo. Who noyse there, hoe?
   Pau. No noyse (my Lord) but needfull conference,
 About some Gossips for your Highnesse
 
    Leo. How?
 Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus,
 I charg'd thee that she should not come about me,
 I knew she would
 
    Ant. I told her so (my Lord)
 On your displeasures perill, and on mine,
 She should not visit you
 
    Leo. What? canst not rule her?
   Paul. From all dishonestie he can: in this
 (Vnlesse he take the course that you haue done)
 Commit me, for committing honor, trust it,
 He shall not rule me:
   Ant. La-you now, you heare,
 When she will take the raine, I let her run,
 But shee'l not stumble
 
    Paul. Good my Liege, I come:
 And I beseech you heare me, who professes
 My selfe your loyall Seruant, your Physitian,
 Your most obedient Counsailor: yet that dares
 Lesse appeare so, in comforting your Euilles,
 Then such as most seeme yours. I say, I come
 From your good Queene
 
    Leo. Good Queene?
   Paul. Good Queene (my Lord) good Queene,
 I say good Queene,
 And would by combate, make her good so, were I
 A man, the worst about you
 
    Leo. Force her hence
 
    Pau. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
 First hand me: on mine owne accord, Ile off,
 But first, Ile do my errand. The good Queene
 (For she is good) hath brought you forth a daughter,
 Heere 'tis. Commends it to your blessing
 
    Leo. Out:
 A mankinde Witch? Hence with her, out o' dore:
 A most intelligencing bawd
 
    Paul. Not so:
 I am as ignorant in that, as you,
 In so entit'ling me: and no lesse honest
 Then you are mad: which is enough, Ile warrant
 (As this world goes) to passe for honest:
   Leo. Traitors;
 Will you not push her out? Giue her the Bastard,
 Thou dotard, thou art woman-tyr'd: vnroosted
 By thy dame Partlet heere. Take vp the Bastard,
 Take't vp, I say: giue't to thy Croane
 
    Paul. For euer
 Vnvenerable be thy hands, if thou
 Tak'st vp the Princesse, by that forced basenesse
 Which he ha's put vpon't
 
    Leo. He dreads his Wife
 
    Paul. So I would you did: then 'twere past all doubt
 Youl'd call your children, yours
 
    Leo. A nest of Traitors
 
    Ant. I am none, by this good light
 
    Pau. Nor I: nor any
 But one that's heere: and that's himselfe: for he,
 The sacred Honor of himselfe, his Queenes,
 His hopefull Sonnes, his Babes, betrayes to Slander,
 Whose sting is sharper then the Swords; and will not
 (For as the case now stands, it is a Curse
 He cannot be compell'd too't) once remoue
 The Root of his Opinion, which is rotten,
 As euer Oake, or Stone was sound
 
    Leo. A Callat
 Of boundlesse tongue, who late hath beat her Husband,
 And now bayts me: This Brat is none of mine,
 It is the Issue of Polixenes.
 Hence with it, and together with the Dam,
 Commit them to the fire
 
    Paul. It is yours:
 And might we lay th' old Prouerb to your charge,
 So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold (my Lords)
 Although the Print be little, the whole Matter
 And Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Nose, Lippe,
 The trick of's Frowne, his Fore-head, nay, the Valley,
 The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke; his Smiles:
 The very Mold, and frame of Hand, Nayle, Finger.)
 And thou good Goddesse Nature, which hast made it
 So like to him that got it, if thou hast
 The ordering of the Mind too, 'mongst all Colours
 No Yellow in't, least she suspect, as he do's,
 Her Children, not her Husbands
 
    Leo. A grosse Hagge:
 And Lozell, thou art worthy to be hang'd,
 That wilt not stay her Tongue
 
    Antig. Hang all the Husbands
 That cannot doe that Feat, you'le leaue your selfe
 Hardly one Subiect
 
    Leo. Once more take her hence
 
    Paul. A most vnworthy, and vnnaturall Lord
 Can doe no more
 
    Leo. Ile ha' thee burnt
 
    Paul. I care not:
 It is an Heretique that makes the fire,
 Not she which burnes in't. Ile not call you Tyrant:
 But this most cruell vsage of your Queene
 (Not able to produce more accusation
 Then your owne weake-hindg'd Fancy) something sauors
 Of Tyrannie, and will ignoble make you,
 Yea, scandalous to the World
 
    Leo. On your Allegeance,
 Out of the Chamber with her. Were I a Tyrant,
 Where were her life? she durst not call me so,
 If she did know me one. Away with her
 
    Paul. I pray you doe not push me, Ile be gone.
 Looke to your Babe (my Lord) 'tis yours: Ioue send her
 A better guiding Spirit. What needs these hands?
 You that are thus so tender o're his Follyes,
 Will neuer doe him good, not one of you.
 So, so: Farewell, we are gone.
 Enter.
 
   Leo. Thou (Traytor) hast set on thy Wife to this.
 My Child? away with't? euen thou, that hast
 A heart so tender o're it, take it hence,
 And see it instantly consum'd with fire.
 Euen thou, and none but thou. Take it vp straight:
 Within this houre bring me word 'tis done,
 (And by good testimonie) or Ile seize thy life,
 With what thou else call'st thine: if thou refuse,
 And wilt encounter with my Wrath, say so;
 The Bastard-braynes with these my proper hands
 Shall I dash out. Goe, take it to the fire,
 For thou sett'st on thy Wife
 
    Antig. I did not, Sir:
 These Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they please,
 Can cleare me in't
 
    Lords. We can: my Royall Liege,
 He is not guiltie of her comming hither
 
    Leo. You're lyers all
 
    Lord. Beseech your Highnesse, giue vs better credit:
 We haue alwayes truly seru'd you, and beseech'
 So to esteeme of vs: and on our knees we begge,
 (As recompence of our deare seruices
 Past, and to come) that you doe change this purpose,
 Which being so horrible, so bloody, must
 Lead on to some foule Issue. We all kneele
 
    Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows:
 Shall I liue on, to see this Bastard kneele,
 And call me Father? better burne it now,
 Then curse it then. But be it: let it liue.
 It shall not neyther. You Sir, come you hither:
 You that haue beene so tenderly officious
 With Lady Margerie, your Mid-wife there,
 To saue this Bastards life; for 'tis a Bastard,
 So sure as this Beard's gray. What will you aduenture,
 To saue this Brats life?
   Antig. Any thing (my Lord)
 That my abilitie may vndergoe,
 And Noblenesse impose: at least thus much;
 Ile pawne the little blood which I haue left,
 To saue the Innocent: any thing possible
 
    Leo. It shall be possible: Sweare by this Sword
 Thou wilt performe my bidding
 
    Antig. I will (my Lord.)
   Leo. Marke, and performe it: seest thou? for the faile
 Of any point in't, shall not onely be
 Death to thy selfe, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife,
 (Whom for this time we pardon) We enioyne thee,
 As thou art Liege-man to vs, that thou carry
 This female Bastard hence, and that thou beare it
 To some remote and desart place, quite out
 Of our Dominions; and that there thou leaue it
 (Without more mercy) to it owne protection,
 And fauour of the Climate: as by strange fortune
 It came to vs, I doe in Iustice charge thee,
 On thy Soules perill, and thy Bodyes torture,
 That thou commend it strangely to some place,
 Where Chance may nurse, or end it: take it vp
 
    Antig. I sweare to doe this: though a present death
 Had beene more mercifull. Come on (poore Babe)
 Some powerfull Spirit instruct the Kytes and Rauens
 To be thy Nurses. Wolues and Beares, they say,
 (Casting their sauagenesse aside) haue done
 Like offices of Pitty. Sir, be prosperous
 In more then this deed do's require; and Blessing
 Against this Crueltie, fight on thy side
 (Poore Thing, condemn'd to losse.)
 Enter.
 
   Leo. No: Ile not reare
 Anothers Issue.
 Enter a Seruant.
 
   Seru. Please' your Highnesse, Posts
 From those you sent to th' Oracle, are come
 An houre since: Cleomines and Dion,
 Being well arriu'd from Delphos, are both landed,
 Hasting to th' Court
 
    Lord. So please you (Sir) their speed
 Hath beene beyond accompt
 
    Leo. Twentie three dayes
 They haue beene absent: 'tis good speed: fore-tells
 The great Apollo suddenly will haue
 The truth of this appeare: Prepare you Lords,
 Summon a Session, that we may arraigne
 Our most disloyall Lady: for as she hath
 Been publikely accus'd, so shall she haue
 A iust and open Triall. While she liues,
 My heart will be a burthen to me. Leaue me,
 And thinke vpon my bidding.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
 
 Enter Cleomines and Dion.
 
   Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre most sweet,
 Fertile the Isle, the Temple much surpassing
 The common prayse it beares
 
    Dion. I shall report,
 For most it caught me, the Celestiall Habits,
 (Me thinkes I so should terme them) and the reuerence
 Of the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice,
 How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthly
 It was i'th' Offring?
   Cleo. But of all, the burst
 And the eare-deaff'ning Voyce o'th' Oracle,
 Kin to Ioues Thunder, so surpriz'd my Sence,
 That I was nothing
 
    Dio. If th' euent o'th' Iourney
 Proue as successefull to the Queene (O be't so)
 As it hath beene to vs, rare, pleasant, speedie,
 The time is worth the vse on't
 
    Cleo. Great Apollo
 Turne all to th' best: these Proclamations,
 So forcing faults vpon Hermione,
 I little like
 
    Dio. The violent carriage of it
 Will cleare, or end the Businesse, when the Oracle
 (Thus by Apollo's great Diuine seal'd vp)
 Shall the Contents discouer: something rare
 Euen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horses,
 And gracious be the issue.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scoena Secunda.
 
 Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers: Hermione (as to her Triall) Ladies:
 Cleomines, Dion.
 
   Leo. This Sessions (to our great griefe we pronounce)
 Euen pushes 'gainst our heart. The partie try'd,
 The Daughter of a King, our Wife, and one
 Of vs too much belou'd. Let vs be clear'd
 Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
 Proceed in Iustice, which shall haue due course,
 Euen to the Guilt, or the Purgation:
 Produce the Prisoner
 
    Officer. It is his Highnesse pleasure, that the Queene
 Appeare in person, here in Court. Silence
 
    Leo. Reade the Indictment
 
    Officer. Hermione, Queene to the worthy Leontes, King
 of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of High Treason,
 in committing Adultery with Polixenes King of Bohemia,
 and conspiring with Camillo to take away the Life of our
 Soueraigne
 Lord the King, thy Royall Husband: the pretence whereof
 being by circumstances partly layd open, thou (Hermione) contrary
 to the Faith and Allegeance of a true Subiect, didst counsaile
 and ayde them, for their better safetie, to flye away by
 Night
 
    Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that
 Which contradicts my Accusation, and
 The testimonie on my part, no other
 But what comes from my selfe, it shall scarce boot me
 To say, Not guiltie: mine Integritie
 Being counted Falsehood, shall (as I expresse it)
 Be so receiu'd. But thus, if Powres Diuine
 Behold our humane Actions (as they doe)
 I doubt not then, but Innocence shall make
 False Accusation blush, and Tyrannie
 Tremble at Patience. You (my Lord) best know
 (Whom least will seeme to doe so) my past life
 Hath beene as continent, as chaste, as true,
 As I am now vnhappy; which is more
 Then Historie can patterne, though deuis'd,
 And play'd, to take Spectators. For behold me,
 A Fellow of the Royall Bed, which owe
 A Moitie of the Throne: a great Kings Daughter,
 The Mother to a hopefull Prince, here standing
 To prate and talke for Life, and Honor, fore
 Who please to come, and heare. For Life, I prize it
 As I weigh Griefe (which I would spare:) For Honor,
 'Tis a deriuatiue from me to mine,
 And onely that I stand for. I appeale
 To your owne Conscience (Sir) before Polixenes
 Came to your Court, how I was in your grace,
 How merited to be so: Since he came,
 With what encounter so vncurrant, I
 Haue strayn'd t' appeare thus; if one iot beyond
 The bound of Honor, or in act, or will
 That way enclining, hardned be the hearts
 Of all that heare me, and my neer'st of Kin
 Cry fie vpon my Graue
 
    Leo. I ne're heard yet,
 That any of these bolder Vices wanted
 Lesse Impudence to gaine-say what they did,
 Then to performe it first
 
    Her. That's true enough,
 Though 'tis a saying (Sir) not due to me
 
    Leo. You will not owne it
 
    Her. More then Mistresse of,
 Which comes to me in name of Fault, I must not
 At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
 (With whom I am accus'd) I doe confesse
 I lou'd him, as in Honor he requir'd:
 With such a kind of Loue, as might become
 A Lady like me; with a Loue, euen such,
 So, and no other, as your selfe commanded:
 Which, not to haue done, I thinke had been in me
 Both Disobedience, and Ingratitude
 To you, and toward your Friend, whose Loue had spoke,
 Euen since it could speake, from an Infant, freely,
 That it was yours. Now for Conspiracie,
 I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'd
 For me to try how: All I know of it,
 Is, that Camillo was an honest man;
 And why he left your Court, the Gods themselues
 (Wotting no more then I) are ignorant
 
    Leo. You knew of his departure, as you know
 What you haue vnderta'ne to doe in's absence
 
    Her. Sir,
 You speake a Language that I vnderstand not:
 My Life stands in the leuell of your Dreames,
 Which Ile lay downe
 
    Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.
 You had a Bastard by Polixenes,
 And I but dream'd it: As you were past all shame,
 (Those of your Fact are so) so past all truth;
 Which to deny, concernes more then auailes: for as
 Thy Brat hath been cast out, like to it selfe,
 No Father owning it (which is indeed
 More criminall in thee, then it) so thou
 Shalt feele our Iustice; in whose easiest passage,
 Looke for no lesse then death
 
    Her. Sir, spare your Threats:
 The Bugge which you would fright me with, I seeke:
 To me can Life be no commoditie;
 The crowne and comfort of my Life (your Fauor)
 I doe giue lost, for I doe feele it gone,
 But know not how it went. My second Ioy,
 And first Fruits of my body, from his presence
 I am bar'd, like one infectious. My third comfort
 (Star'd most vnluckily) is from my breast
 (The innocent milke in it most innocent mouth)
 Hal'd out to murther. My selfe on euery Post
 Proclaym'd a Strumpet: With immodest hatred
 The Child-bed priuiledge deny'd, which longs
 To Women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried
 Here, to this place, i'th' open ayre, before
 I haue got strength of limit. Now (my Liege)
 Tell me what blessings I haue here aliue,
 That I should feare to die? Therefore proceed:
 But yet heare this: mistake me not: no Life,
 (I prize it not a straw) but for mine Honor,
 Which I would free: if I shall be condemn'd
 Vpon surmizes (all proofes sleeping else,
 But what your Iealousies awake) I tell you
 'Tis Rigor, and not Law. Your Honors all,
 I doe referre me to the Oracle:
 Apollo be my Iudge
 
    Lord. This your request
 Is altogether iust: therefore bring forth
 (And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle
 
    Her. The Emperor of Russia was my Father.
 Oh that he were aliue, and here beholding
 His Daughters Tryall: that he did but see
 The flatnesse of my miserie; yet with eyes
 Of Pitty, not Reuenge
 
    Officer. You here shal sweare vpon this Sword of Iustice,
 That you (Cleomines and Dion) haue
 Been both at Delphos, and from thence haue brought
 This seal'd-vp Oracle, by the Hand deliuer'd
 Of great Apollo's Priest; and that since then,
 You haue not dar'd to breake the holy Seale,
 Nor read the Secrets in't
 
    Cleo. Dio. All this we sweare
 
    Leo. Breake vp the Seales, and read
 
    Officer. Hermione is chast, Polixenes blamelesse, Camillo
 a true Subiect, Leontes a iealous Tyrant, his innocent Babe
 truly begotten, and the King shall liue without an Heire, if that
 which is lost, be not found
 
    Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo
 
    Her. Praysed
 
    Leo. Hast thou read truth?
   Offic. I (my Lord) euen so as it is here set downe
 
    Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle:
 The Sessions shall proceed: this is meere falsehood
 
    Ser. My Lord the King: the King?
   Leo. What is the businesse?
   Ser. O Sir, I shall be hated to report it.
 The Prince your Sonne, with meere conceit, and feare
 Of the Queenes speed, is gone
 
    Leo. How? gone?
   Ser. Is dead
 
    Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heauens themselues
 Doe strike at my Iniustice. How now there?
   Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene: Look downe
 And see what Death is doing
 
    Leo. Take her hence:
 Her heart is but o're-charg'd: she will recouer.
 I haue too much beleeu'd mine owne suspition:
 'Beseech you tenderly apply to her
 Some remedies for life. Apollo pardon
 My great prophanenesse 'gainst thine Oracle.
 Ile reconcile me to Polixenes,
 New woe my Queene, recall the good Camillo
 (Whom I proclaime a man of Truth, of Mercy:)
 For being transported by my Iealousies
 To bloody thoughts, and to reuenge, I chose
 Camillo for the minister, to poyson
 My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
 But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
 My swift command: though I with Death, and with
 Reward, did threaten and encourage him,
 Not doing it, and being done: he (most humane,
 And fill'd with Honor) to my Kingly Guest
 Vnclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here
 (Which you knew great) and to the hazard
 Of all Incertainties, himselfe commended,
 No richer then his Honor: How he glisters
 Through my Rust? and how his Pietie
 Do's my deeds make the blacker?
   Paul. Woe the while:
 O cut my Lace, least my heart (cracking it)
 Breake too
 
    Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?
   Paul. What studied torments (Tyrant) hast for me?
 What Wheeles? Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling?
 In Leads, or Oyles? What old, or newer Torture
 Must I receiue? whose euery word deserues
 To taste of thy most worst. Thy Tyranny
 (Together working with thy Iealousies,
 Fancies too weake for Boyes, too greene and idle
 For Girles of Nine) O thinke what they haue done,
 And then run mad indeed: starke-mad: for all
 Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
 That thou betrayed'st Polixenes, 'twas nothing,
 (That did but shew thee, of a Foole, inconstant,
 And damnable ingratefull:) Nor was't much.
 Thou would'st haue poyson'd good Camillo's Honor,
 To haue him kill a King: poore Trespasses,
 More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
 The casting forth to Crowes, thy Baby-daughter,
 To be or none, or little; though a Deuill
 Would haue shed water out of fire, ere don't;
 Nor is't directly layd to thee, the death
 Of the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts
 (Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart
 That could conceiue a grosse and foolish Sire
 Blemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,
 Layd to thy answere: but the last: O Lords,
 When I haue said, cry woe: the Queene, the Queene,
 The sweet'st, deer'st creature's dead: & vengeance for't
 Not drop'd downe yet
 
    Lord. The higher powres forbid
 
    Pau. I say she's dead: Ile swear't. If word, nor oath
 Preuaile not, go and see: if you can bring
 Tincture, or lustre in her lip, her eye
 Heate outwardly, or breath within, Ile serue you
 As I would do the Gods. But, O thou Tyrant,
 Do not repent these things, for they are heauier
 Then all thy woes can stirre: therefore betake thee
 To nothing but dispaire. A thousand knees,
 Ten thousand yeares together, naked, fasting,
 Vpon a barren Mountaine, and still Winter
 In storme perpetuall, could not moue the Gods
 To looke that way thou wer't
 
    Leo. Go on, go on:
 Thou canst not speake too much, I haue deseru'd
 All tongues to talke their bittrest
 
    Lord. Say no more;
 How ere the businesse goes, you haue made fault
 I'th boldnesse of your speech
 
    Pau. I am sorry for't;
 All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
 I do repent: Alas, I haue shew'd too much
 The rashnesse of a woman: he is toucht
 To th' Noble heart. What's gone, and what's past helpe
 Should be past greefe: Do not receiue affliction
 At my petition; I beseech you, rather
 Let me be punish'd, that haue minded you
 Of what you should forget. Now (good my Liege)
 Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue a foolish woman:
 The loue I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe)
 Ile speake of her no more, nor of your Children:
 Ile not remember you of my owne Lord,
 (Who is lost too:) take your patience to you,
 And Ile say nothing
 
    Leo. Thou didst speake but well,
 When most the truth: which I receyue much better,
 Then to be pittied of thee. Prethee bring me
 To the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne,
 One graue shall be for both: Vpon them shall
 The causes of their death appeare (vnto
 Our shame perpetuall) once a day, Ile visit
 The Chappell where they lye, and teares shed there
 Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature
 Will beare vp with this exercise, so long
 I dayly vow to vse it. Come, and leade me
 To these sorrowes.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Scaena Tertia.
 
 Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.
 
   Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vpon
 The Desarts of Bohemia
 
    Mar. I (my Lord) and feare
 We haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,
 And threaten present blusters. In my conscience
 The heauens with that we haue in hand, are angry,
 And frowne vpon's
 
    Ant. Their sacred wil's be done: go get a-boord,
 Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long before
 I call vpon thee
 
    Mar. Make your best haste, and go not
 Too-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather,
 Besides this place is famous for the Creatures
 Of prey, that keepe vpon't
 
    Antig. Go thou away,
 Ile follow instantly
 
    Mar. I am glad at heart
 To be so ridde o'th businesse.
 
 Exit
 
   Ant. Come, poore babe;
 I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o'th' dead
 May walke againe: if such thing be, thy Mother
 Appear'd to me last night: for ne're was dreame
 So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
 Sometimes her head on one side, some another,
 I neuer saw a vessell of like sorrow
 So fill'd, and so becomming: in pure white Robes
 Like very sanctity she did approach
 My Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,
 And (gasping to begin some speech) her eyes
 Became two spouts; the furie spent, anon
 Did this breake from her. Good Antigonus,
 Since Fate (against thy better disposition)
 Hath made thy person for the Thrower-out
 Of my poore babe, according to thine oath,
 Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
 There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babe
 Is counted lost for euer, Perdita
 I prethee call't: For this vngentle businesse
 Put on thee, by my Lord, thou ne're shalt see
 Thy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shriekes
 She melted into Ayre. Affrighted much,
 I did in time collect my selfe, and thought
 This was so, and no slumber: Dreames, are toyes,
 Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,
 I will be squar'd by this. I do beleeue
 Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that
 Apollo would (this being indeede the issue
 Of King Polixenes) it should heere be laide
 (Either for life, or death) vpon the earth
 Of it's right Father. Blossome, speed thee well,
 There lye, and there thy charracter: there these,
 Which may if Fortune please, both breed thee (pretty)
 And still rest thine. The storme beginnes, poore wretch,
 That for thy mothers fault, art thus expos'd
 To losse, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot,
 But my heart bleedes: and most accurst am I
 To be by oath enioyn'd to this. Farewell,
 The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like to haue
 A lullabie too rough: I neuer saw
 The heauens so dim, by day. A sauage clamor?
 Well may I get a-boord: This is the Chace,
 I am gone for euer.
 
 Exit pursued by a Beare.
 
   Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten and
 three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest:
 for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wenches
 with childe, wronging the Auncientry, stealing,
 fighting, hearke you now: would any but these boyldebraines
 of nineteene, and two and twenty hunt this weather?
 They haue scarr'd away two of my best Sheepe,
 which I feare the Wolfe will sooner finde then the Maister;
 if any where I haue them, 'tis by the sea-side, brouzing
 of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue
 we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A
 boy, or a Childe I wonder? (A pretty one, a verie prettie
 one) sure some Scape; Though I am not bookish, yet I
 can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this has
 beene some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some
 behinde-doore
 worke: they were warmer that got this,
 then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet
 Ile tarry till my sonne come: he hallow'd but euen now.
 Whoa-ho-hoa.
 Enter Clowne.
 
   Clo. Hilloa, loa
 
    Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing to
 talke on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither:
 what ayl'st thou, man?
   Clo. I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land:
 but I am not to say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, betwixt
 the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins
 point
 
    Shep. Why boy, how is it?
   Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages,
 how it takes vp the shore, but that's not to the point:
 Oh, the most pitteous cry of the poore soules, sometimes
 to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Shippe boaring
 the Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowed
 with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a Corke into a hogshead.
 And then for the Land-seruice, to see how the
 Beare tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cride to mee
 for helpe, and said his name was Antigonus, a Nobleman:
 But to make an end of the Ship, to see how the Sea flapdragon'd
 it: but first, how the poore soules roared, and
 the sea mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roared,
 and the Beare mock'd him, both roaring lowder
 then the sea, or weather
 
    Shep. Name of mercy, when was this boy?
   Clo. Now, now: I haue not wink'd since I saw these
 sights: the men are not yet cold vnder water, nor the
 Beare halfe din'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now
 
    Shep. Would I had bin by, to haue help'd the olde
 man
 
    Clo. I would you had beene by the ship side, to haue
 help'd her; there your charity would haue lack'd footing
 
    Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke thee
 heere boy. Now blesse thy selfe: thou met'st with things
 dying, I with things new borne. Here's a sight for thee:
 Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires childe: looke
 thee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open't: so, let's see, it
 was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is some
 Changeling: open't: what's within, boy?
   Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the sinnes of your
 youth are forgiuen you, you're well to liue. Golde, all
 Gold
 
    Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp
 with't, keepe it close: home, home, the next way. We
 are luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing but
 secrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy) the next
 way home
 
    Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go
 see if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and how
 much he hath eaten: they are neuer curst but when they
 are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it
 
    Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayest discerne by
 that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sight
 of him
 
    Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him
 i'th' ground
 
    Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee'l do good deeds
 on't.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
 
 Enter Time, the Chorus.
 
   Time. I that please some, try all: both ioy and terror
 Of good, and bad: that makes, and vnfolds error,
 Now take vpon me (in the name of Time)
 To vse my wings: Impute it not a crime
 To me, or my swift passage, that I slide
 Ore sixteene yeeres, and leaue the growth vntride
 Of that wide gap, since it is in my powre
 To orethrow Law, and in one selfe-borne howre
 To plant, and orewhelme Custome. Let me passe
 The same I am, ere ancient'st Order was,
 Or what is now receiu'd. I witnesse to
 The times that brought them in, so shall I do
 To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stale
 The glistering of this present, as my Tale
 Now seemes to it: your patience this allowing,
 I turne my glasse, and giue my Scene such growing
 As you had slept betweene: Leontes leauing
 Th' effects of his fond iealousies, so greeuing
 That he shuts vp himselfe. Imagine me
 (Gentle Spectators) that I now may be
 In faire Bohemia, and remember well,
 I mentioned a sonne o'th' Kings, which Florizell
 I now name to you: and with speed so pace
 To speake of Perdita, now growne in grace
 Equall with wond'ring. What of her insues
 I list not prophesie: but let Times newes
 Be knowne when 'tis brought forth. A shepherds daughter
 And what to her adheres, which followes after,
 Is th' argument of Time: of this allow,
 If euer you haue spent time worse, ere now:
 If neuer, yet that Time himselfe doth say,
 He wishes earnestly, you neuer may.
 Enter.
 
 
 Scena Secunda.
 
 Enter Polixenes, and Camillo.
 
   Pol. I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importunate:
 'tis a sicknesse denying thee any thing: a death to
 grant this
 
    Cam. It is fifteene yeeres since I saw my Countrey:
 though I haue (for the most part) bin ayred abroad, I desire
 to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King
 (my Master) hath sent for me, to whose feeling sorrowes
 I might be some allay, or I oreweene to thinke so) which
 is another spurre to my departure
 
    Pol. As thou lou'st me (Camillo) wipe not out the rest
 of thy seruices, by leauing me now: the neede I haue of
 thee, thine owne goodnesse hath made: better not to
 haue had thee, then thus to want thee, thou hauing made
 me Businesses, (which none (without thee) can sufficiently
 manage) must either stay to execute them thy selfe,
 or take away with thee the very seruices thou hast done:
 which if I haue not enough considered (as too much I
 cannot) to bee more thankefull to thee, shall bee my studie,
 and my profite therein, the heaping friendshippes.
 Of that fatall Countrey Sicillia, prethee speake no more,
 whose very naming, punnishes me with the remembrance
 of that penitent (as thou calst him) and reconciled King
 my brother, whose losse of his most precious Queene &
 Children, are euen now to be a-fresh lamented. Say to
 me, when saw'st thou the Prince Florizell my son? Kings
 are no lesse vnhappy, their issue, not being gracious, then
 they are in loosing them, when they haue approued their
 Vertues
 
    Cam. Sir, it is three dayes since I saw the Prince: what
 his happier affayres may be, are to me vnknowne: but I
 haue (missingly) noted, he is of late much retyred from
 Court, and is lesse frequent to his Princely exercises then
 formerly he hath appeared
 
    Pol. I haue considered so much (Camillo) and with
 some care, so farre, that I haue eyes vnder my seruice,
 which looke vpon his remouednesse: from whom I haue
 this Intelligence, that he is seldome from the house of a
 most homely shepheard: a man (they say) that from very
 nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors,
 is growne into an vnspeakable estate
 
    Cam. I haue heard (sir) of such a man, who hath a
 daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended
 more, then can be thought to begin from such a cottage
   Pol. That's likewise part of my Intelligence: but (I
 feare) the Angle that pluckes our sonne thither. Thou
 shalt accompany vs to the place, where we will (not appearing
 what we are) haue some question with the shepheard;
 from whose simplicity, I thinke it not vneasie to
 get the cause of my sonnes resort thether. 'Prethe be my
 present partner in this busines, and lay aside the thoughts
 of Sicillia
 
    Cam. I willingly obey your command
 
    Pol. My best Camillo, we must disguise our selues.
 
 Exit
 
 
 Scena Tertia.
 
 Enter Autolicus singing
 
 When Daffadils begin to peere,
 With heigh the Doxy ouer the dale,
 Why then comes in the sweet o'the yeere,
 For the red blood raigns in y winters pale.
 The white sheete bleaching on the hedge,
 With hey the sweet birds, O how they sing:
 Doth set my pugging tooth an edge,
 For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King.
 The Larke, that tirra Lyra chaunts,
 With heigh, the Thrush and the Iay:
 Are Summer songs for me and my Aunts
 While we lye tumbling in the hay.
 I haue seru'd Prince Florizell, and in my time wore three
 pile, but now I am out of seruice.
 But shall I go mourne for that (my deere)
 the pale Moone shines by night:
 And when I wander here, and there
 I then do most go right.
 If Tinkers may haue leaue to liue,
 and beare the Sow-skin Bowget,
 Then my account I well may giue,
 and in the Stockes auouch-it.
 My Trafficke is sheetes: when the Kite builds, looke to
 lesser Linnen. My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who being
 (as I am) lytter'd vnder Mercurie, was likewise a
 snapper-vp of vnconsidered trifles: With Dye and drab,
 I purchas'd this Caparison, and my Reuennew is the silly
 Cheate. Gallowes, and Knocke, are too powerfull on
 the Highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to mee:
 For the life to come, I sleepe out the thought of it. A
 prize, a prize.
 Enter Clowne.
 
   Clo. Let me see, euery Leauen-weather toddes, euery
 tod yeeldes pound and odde shilling: fifteene hundred
 shorne, what comes the wooll too?
   Aut. If the sprindge hold, the Cocke's mine
 
    Clo. I cannot do't without Compters. Let mee see,
 what am I to buy for our Sheepe-shearing-Feast? Three
 pound of Sugar, fiue pound of Currence, Rice: What
 will this sister of mine do with Rice? But my father hath
 made her Mistris of the Feast, and she layes it on. Shee
 hath made-me four and twenty Nose-gayes for the shearers
 (three-man song-men, all, and very good ones) but
 they are most of them Meanes and Bases; but one Puritan
 amongst them, and he sings Psalmes to horne-pipes.
 I must haue Saffron to colour the Warden Pies, Mace:
 Dates, none: that's out of my note: Nutmegges, seuen;
 a Race or two of Ginger, but that I may begge: Foure
 pound of Prewyns, and as many of Reysons o'th Sun
 
    Aut. Oh, that euer I was borne
 
    Clo. I'th' name of me
 
    Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe mee: plucke but off these
 ragges: and then, death, death
 
    Clo. Alacke poore soule, thou hast need of more rags
 to lay on thee, rather then haue these off
 
    Aut. Oh sir, the loathsomnesse of them offend mee,
 more then the stripes I haue receiued, which are mightie
 ones and millions
 
    Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come
 to a great matter
 
    Aut. I am rob'd sir, and beaten: my money, and apparrell
 tane from me, and these detestable things put vpon
 me
 
    Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?
   Aut. A footman (sweet sir) a footman
 
    Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments
 he has left with thee: If this bee a horsemans Coate, it
 hath seene very hot seruice. Lend me thy hand, Ile helpe
 thee. Come, lend me thy hand
 
    Aut. Oh good sir, tenderly, oh
 
    Clo. Alas poore soule
 
    Aut. Oh good sir, softly, good sir: I feare (sir) my
 shoulder-blade is out
 
    Clo. How now? Canst stand?
   Aut. Softly, deere sir: good sir, softly: you ha done
 me a charitable office
 
    Clo. Doest lacke any mony? I haue a little mony for
 thee
 
    Aut. No, good sweet sir: no, I beseech you sir: I haue
 a Kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, vnto
 whome I was going: I shall there haue money, or anie
 thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you, that killes
 my heart
 
    Clow. What manner of Fellow was hee that robb'd
 you?
   Aut. A fellow (sir) that I haue knowne to goe about
 with Troll-my-dames: I knew him once a seruant of the
 Prince: I cannot tell good sir, for which of his Vertues
 it was, but hee was certainely Whipt out of the
 Court
 
    Clo. His vices you would say: there's no vertue whipt
 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 bene since an Ape-bearer, then a Processe-seruer
 (a Bayliffe) then hee compast a Motion of the Prodigall
 sonne, and married a Tinkers wife, within a Mile where
 my Land and Liuing lyes; and (hauing flowne ouer many
 knauish professions) he setled onely in Rogue: some
 call him Autolicus
 
    Clo. Out vpon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts
 Wakes, Faires, and Beare-baitings
 
    Aut. Very true sir: he sir hee: that's the Rogue that
 put me into this apparrell
 
    Clo. Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If
 you had but look'd bigge, and spit at him, hee'ld haue
 runne
 
    Aut. I must confesse to you (sir) I am no fighter: I am
 false of heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him
 
    Clo. How do you now?
   Aut. Sweet sir, much better then I was: I can stand,
 and walke: I will euen take my leaue of you, & pace softly
 towards my Kinsmans
 
    Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?
   Aut. No, good fac'd sir, no sweet sir
 
    Clo. Then fartheewell, I must go buy Spices for our
 sheepe-shearing.
 Enter.
 
   Aut. Prosper you sweet sir. Your purse is not hot enough
 to purchase your Spice: Ile be with you at your
 sheepe-shearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out
 another, and the sheerers proue sheepe, let me be vnrold,
 and my name put in the booke of Vertue.
 Song. Iog-on, Iog-on, the foot-path way,
 And merrily hent the Stile-a:
 A merry heart goes all the day,
 Your sad tyres in a Mile-a.
 Enter.
 
 
 Scena Quarta.
 
 Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo,
 Mopsa,
 Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.
 
   Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you
 Do's giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but Flora
 Peering in Aprils front. This your sheepe-shearing,
 Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,
 And you the Queene on't
 
    Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord,
 To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me:
 (Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfe
 The gracious marke o'th' Land, you haue obscur'd
 With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide)
 Most Goddesse-like prank'd vp: But that our Feasts
 In euery Messe, haue folly; and the Feeders
 Digest with a Custome, I should blush
 To see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke,
 To shew my selfe a glasse
 
    Flo. I blesse the time
 When my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosse
 Thy Fathers ground
 
    Perd. Now Ioue affoord you cause:
 To me the difference forges dread (your Greatnesse
 Hath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I tremble
 To thinke your Father, by some accident
 Should passe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates,
 How would he looke, to see his worke, so noble,
 Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how
 Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold
 The sternnesse of his presence?
   Flo. Apprehend
 Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues
 (Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken
 The shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter,
 Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune
 A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God
 Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine,
 As I seeme now. Their transformations,
 Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer,
 Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires
 Run not before mine honor: nor my Lusts
 Burne hotter then my Faith
 
    Perd. O but Sir,
 Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
 Oppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King:
 One of these two must be necessities,
 Which then will speake, that you must change this purpose,
 Or I my life
 
    Flo. Thou deer'st Perdita,
 With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not
 The Mirth o'th' Feast: Or Ile be thine (my Faire)
 Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be
 Mine owne, 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 comming:
 Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day
 Of celebration of that nuptiall, which
 We two haue sworne shall come
 
    Perd. O Lady Fortune,
 Stand you auspicious
 
    Flo. See, your Guests approach,
 Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly,
 And let's be red with mirth
 
    Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vpon
 This day, she was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke,
 Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all: seru'd all,
 Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heere
 At vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle:
 On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire
 With labour, and the thing she tooke to quench it
 She would to each one sip. You are retyred,
 As if you were a feasted one: and not
 The Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bid
 These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is
 A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne.
 Come, quench your blushes, and present your selfe
 That which you are, Mistris o'th' Feast. Come on,
 And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing,
 As your good flocke shall prosper
 
    Perd. Sir, welcome:
 It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee
 The Hostesseship o'th' day: you're welcome sir.
 Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs,
 For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepe
 Seeming, and sauour all the Winter long:
 Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,
 And welcome to our Shearing
 
    Pol. Shepherdesse,
 (A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages
 With flowres of Winter
 
    Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,
 Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth
 Of trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o'th season
 Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors,
 (Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind
 Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not
 To get slips of them
 
    Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)
 Do you neglect them
 
    Perd. For I haue heard it said,
 There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares
 With great creating-Nature
 
    Pol. Say there be:
 Yet Nature is made better by no meane,
 But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art,
 (Which you say addes to Nature) is an Art
 That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry
 A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke,
 And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde
 By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art
 Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but
 The Art it selfe, is Nature
 
    Perd. So it is
 
    Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors,
 And do not call them bastards
 
    Perd. Ile not put
 The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them:
 No more then were I painted, I would wish
 This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore
 Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you:
 Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,
 The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun,
 And with him rises, weeping: These are flowres
 Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen
 To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome
 
    Cam. I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke,
 And onely liue by gazing
 
    Perd. Out alas:
 You'ld be so leane, that blasts of Ianuary
 Would blow you through and through. Now (my fairst Friend,
 I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring, that might
 Become your time of day: and yours, and yours,
 That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet
 Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,
 For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall
 From Dysses Waggon: Daffadils,
 That come before the Swallow dares, and take
 The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim,
 But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes,
 Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses,
 That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold
 Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie
 Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and
 The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds,
 (The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke,
 To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend,
 To strew him o're, and ore
 
    Flo. What? like a Coarse?
   Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on:
 Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried,
 But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours,
 Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them do
 In Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine
 Do's change my disposition:
   Flo. What you do,
 Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet)
 I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing,
 I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes,
 Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres,
 To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
 A waue o'th Sea, that you might euer do
 Nothing but that: moue still, still so:
 And owne no other Function. Each your doing,
 (So singular, in each particular)
 Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds,
 That all your Actes, are Queenes
 
    Perd. O Doricles,
 Your praises are too large: but that your youth
 And the true blood which peepes fairely through't,
 Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd Shepherd
 With wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles)
 You woo'd me the false way
 
    Flo. I thinke you haue
 As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose
 To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray,
 Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire
 That neuer meane to part
 
    Perd. Ile sweare for 'em
 
    Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer
 Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes
 But smackes of something greater then her selfe,
 Too Noble for this place
 
    Cam. He tels her something
 That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is
 The Queene of Curds and Creame
 
    Clo. Come on: strike vp
 
    Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick
 to mend her kissing with
 
    Mop. Now in good time
 
    Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners,
 Come, strike vp.
 
 Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.
 
   Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this,
 Which dances with your daughter?
   Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe
 To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it
 Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:
 He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter,
 I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the Moone
 Vpon the water, as hee'l stand and reade
 As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine,
 I thinke there is not halfe a kisse to choose
 Who loues another best
 
    Pol. She dances featly
 
    Shep. So she do's any thing, though I report it
 That should be silent: If yong Doricles
 Do light vpon her, she shall bring him that
 Which he not dreames of.
 Enter Seruant.
 
   Ser. O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at the
 doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and
 Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singes
 seuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money: hee vtters
 them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to
 his Tunes
 
    Clo. He could neuer come better: hee shall come in:
 I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter
 merrily set downe: or a very pleasant thing indeede, and
 sung lamentably
 
    Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes:
 No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he has
 the prettiest Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie
 (which is strange,) with such delicate burthens of Dildo's
 and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where
 some stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meane
 mischeefe, and breake a fowle gap into the Matter, hee
 makes the maid to answere, Whoop, doe me no harme good
 man: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, doe mee no
 harme good man
 
    Pol. This is a braue fellow
 
    Clo. Beleeue mee, thou talkest of an admirable conceited
 fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares?
   Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Rainebow;
 Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can
 learnedly handle, though they come to him by th' grosse:
 Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he sings
 em ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would
 thinke a Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes to
 the sleeue-hand, and the worke about the square on't
 
    Clo. Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach singing
 
    Perd. Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous words
 in's tunes
 
    Clow. You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more in
 them, then youl'd thinke (Sister.)
   Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke.
 Enter Autolicus singing.
 
 Lawne as white as driuen Snow,
 Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow,
 Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses,
 Maskes for faces, and for noses:
 Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,
 Perfume for a Ladies Chamber:
 Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers
 For my Lads, to giue their deers:
 Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele.
 What Maids lacke from head to heele:
 Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy,
 Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy
 
    Clo. If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldst
 take no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will
 also be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues
 
    Mop. I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they
 come not too late now
 
    Dor. He hath promis'd you more then that, or there
 be lyars
 
    Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be
 he has paid you more, which will shame you to giue him
 againe
 
    Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they
 weare their plackets, where they should bear their faces?
 Is there not milking-time? When you are going to bed?
 Or kill-hole? To whistle of these secrets, but you must
 be tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are
 whispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more
 
    Mop. I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdrylace,
 and a paire of sweet Gloues
 
    Clo. Haue 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, therfore
 it behooues men to be wary
 
    Clo. Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here
   Aut. I hope so sir, for I haue about me many parcels
 of charge
 
    Clo. What hast heere? Ballads?
   Mop. Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, a
 life, for then we are sure they are true
 
    Aut. Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsurers
 wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs at
 a burthen, and how she long'd to eate Adders heads, and
 Toads carbonado'd
 
    Mop. Is it true, thinke you?
   Aut. Very true, and but a moneth old
 
    Dor. Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer
 
    Aut. Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist[ris]. Tale-Porter,
 and fiue or six honest Wiues, that were present.
 Why should I carry lyes abroad?
   Mop. 'Pray you now buy it
 
    Clo. Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see moe Ballads:
 Wee'l buy the other things anon
 
    Aut. Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared
 vpon the coast, on wensday the fourescore of April, fortie
 thousand fadom aboue water, & 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 wold not exchange
 flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very
 pittifull, and as true
 
    Dor. Is it true too, thinke you
 
    Autol. Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses more
 then my packe will hold
 
    Clo. Lay it by too; another
 
    Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one
 
    Mop. Let's haue some merry ones
 
    Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the
 tune of two maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maide
 westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you
 
    Mop. We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou
 shalt heare, 'tis in three parts
 
    Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe
 
    Aut. I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my occupation:
 Haue at it with you:
 
 Song
 
 Get you hence, for I must goe
   Aut. Where it fits not you to know
 
    Dor. Whether?
   Mop. O whether?
   Dor. Whether?
   Mop. It becomes thy oath full well,
 Thou to me thy secrets tell
 
    Dor: Me too: Let me go thether:
   Mop: Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill,
   Dor: If to either thou dost ill,
   Aut: Neither
 
    Dor: What neither?
   Aut: Neither:
   Dor: Thou hast sworne my Loue to be,
   Mop: Thou hast sworne it more to mee.
 Then whether goest? Say whether?
   Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My
 Father, and the Gent. are in sad talke, & wee'll not trouble
 them: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ile
 buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the first choice; folow
 me girles
 
    Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.
 
 Song.
 
 Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape?
 My dainty Ducke, my deere-a?
 Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head
 Of the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a.
 Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler,
 That doth vtter all mens ware-a.
 
 Exit
 
   Seruant. Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shepherds,
 three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made
 themselues all men of haire, they cal themselues Saltiers,
 and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gally-maufrey
 of Gambols, because they are not in't: but
 they themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too rough
 for some, that know little but bowling) it will please
 plentifully
 
    Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too
 much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wearie
 you
 
    Pol. You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's see
 these foure-threes of Heardsmen
 
    Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,)
 hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of the
 three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire
 
    Shep. Leaue your prating, since these good men are
 pleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now
 
    Ser. Why, they stay at doore Sir.
 
 Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.
 
   Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter:
 Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them,
 He's simple, and tels much. How now (faire shepheard)
 Your heart is full of something, that do's take
 Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong,
 And handed loue, as you do; I was wont
 To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt
 The Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr'd it
 To her acceptance: you haue let him go,
 And nothing marted with him. If your Lasse
 Interpretation should abuse, and call this
 Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited
 For a reply at least, if you make a care
 Of happie holding her
 
    Flo. Old Sir, I know
 She prizes not such trifles as these are:
 The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt
 Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already,
 But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life
 Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme)
 Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand,
 As soft as Doues-downe, and as white as it,
 Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd snow, that's bolted
 By th' Northerne blasts, twice ore
 
    Pol. What followes this?
 How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to wash
 The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out,
 But to your protestation: Let me heare
 What you professe
 
    Flo. Do, and be witnesse too't
 
    Pol. And this my neighbour too?
   Flo. And he, and more
 Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all;
 That were I crown'd the most Imperiall Monarch
 Thereof most worthy: were I the fayrest youth
 That euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledge
 More then was euer mans, I would not prize them
 Without her Loue; for her, employ them all,
 Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice,
 Or to their owne perdition
 
    Pol. Fairely offer'd
 
    Cam. This shewes a sound affection
 
    Shep. But my daughter,
 Say you the like to him
 
    Per. I cannot speake
 So well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane better
 By th' patterne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out
 The puritie of his
 
    Shep. Take hands, a bargaine;
 And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't:
 I giue my daughter to him, and will make
 Her Portion, equall his
 
    Flo. O, that must bee
 I'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead,
 I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet,
 Enough then for your wonder: but come-on,
 Contract vs fore these Witnesses
 
    Shep. Come, your hand:
 And daughter, yours
 
    Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you,
 Haue you a Father?
   Flo. I haue: but what of him?
   Pol. Knowes he of this?
   Flo. He neither do's, nor shall
 
    Pol. Me-thinkes a Father,
 Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guest
 That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more
 Is not your Father growne incapeable
 Of reasonable affayres? Is he not stupid
 With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare?
 Know man, from man? Dispute his owne estate?
 Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothing
 But what he did, being childish?
   Flo. No good Sir:
 He has his health, and ampler strength indeede
 Then most haue of his age
 
    Pol. By my white beard,
 You offer him (if this be so) a wrong
 Something vnfilliall: Reason my sonne
 Should choose himselfe a wife, but as good reason
 The Father (all whose ioy is nothing else
 But faire posterity) should hold some counsaile
 In such a businesse
 
    Flo. I yeeld all this;
 But for some other reasons (my graue Sir)
 Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
 My Father of this businesse
 
    Pol. Let him know't
 
    Flo. He shall not
 
    Pol. Prethee let him
 
    Flo. No, he must not
 
    Shep. Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeue
 At knowing of thy choice
 
    Flo. Come, come, he must not:
 Marke our Contract
 
    Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong sir)
 Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too base
 To be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire,
 That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor,
 I am sorry, that by hanging thee, I can
 But shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peece
 Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must know
 The royall Foole thou coap'st with
 
    Shep. Oh my heart
 
    Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made
 More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy)
 If I may euer know thou dost but sigh,
 That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer
 I meane thou shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession,
 Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin,
 Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words)
 Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time
 (Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee
 From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment,
 Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too,
 That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein)
 Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou
 These rurall Latches, to his entrance open,
 Or hope his body more, with thy embraces,
 I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee
 As thou art tender to't.
 Enter.
 
   Perd. Euen heere vndone:
 I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice
 I was about to speake, and tell him plainely,
 The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court,
 Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but
 Lookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone?
 I told you what would come of this: Beseech you
 Of your owne state take care: This dreame of mine
 Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther,
 But milke my Ewes, and weepe
 
    Cam. Why how now Father,
 Speake ere thou dyest
 
    Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke,
 Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir,
 You haue vndone a man of fourescore three,
 That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea,
 To dye vpon the bed my father dy'de,
 To lye close by his honest bones; but now
 Some Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me
 Where no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch,
 That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture
 To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone:
 If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd
 To die when I desire.
 Enter.
 
   Flo. Why looke you so vpon me?
 I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid,
 But nothing altred: What I was, I am:
 More straining on, for plucking backe; not following
 My leash vnwillingly
 
    Cam. Gracious my Lord,
 You know my Fathers temper: at this time
 He will allow no speech: (which I do ghesse
 You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly
 Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare;
 Then till the fury of his Highnesse settle
 Come not before him
 
    Flo. I not purpose it:
 I thinke Camillo
 
    Cam. Euen he, my Lord
 
    Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus?
 How often said my dignity would last
 But till 'twer knowne?
   Flo. It cannot faile, but by
 The violation of my faith, and then
 Let Nature crush the sides o'th earth together,
 And marre the seeds within. Lift vp thy lookes:
 From my succession wipe me (Father) I
 Am heyre to my affection
 
    Cam. Be aduis'd
 
    Flo. I am: and by my fancie, if my Reason
 Will thereto be obedient: I haue reason:
 If not, my sences better pleas'd with madnesse,
 Do bid it welcome
 
    Cam. This is desperate (sir.)
   Flo. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow:
 I needs must thinke it honesty. Camillo,
 Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may
 Be thereat gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or
 The close earth wombes, or the profound seas, hides
 In vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oath
 To this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you,
 As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend,
 When he shall misse me, as (in faith I meane not
 To see him any more) cast your good counsailes
 Vpon his passion: Let my selfe, and Fortune
 Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
 And so deliuer, I am put to Sea
 With her, who heere I cannot hold on shore:
 And most opportune to her neede, I haue
 A Vessell rides fast by, but not prepar'd
 For this designe. What course I meane to hold
 Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
 Concerne me the reporting
 
    Cam. O my Lord,
 I would your spirit were easier for aduice,
 Or stronger for your neede
 
    Flo. Hearke Perdita,
 Ile heare you by and by
 
    Cam. Hee's irremoueable,
 Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if
 His going, I could frame to serue my turne,
 Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor,
 Purchase the sight againe of deere Sicillia,
 And that vnhappy King, my Master, whom
 I so much thirst to see
 
    Flo. Now good Camillo,
 I am so fraught with curious businesse, that
 I leaue out ceremony
 
    Cam. Sir, I thinke
 You haue heard of my poore seruices, i'th loue
 That I haue borne your Father?
   Flo. Very nobly
 Haue you deseru'd: It is my Fathers Musicke
 To speake your deeds: not little of his care
 To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on
 
    Cam. Well (my Lord)
 If you may please to thinke I loue the King,
 And through him, what's neerest to him, which is
 Your gracious selfe; embrace but my direction,
 If your more ponderous and setled proiect
 May suffer alteration. On mine honor,
 Ile point you where you shall haue such receiuing
 As shall become your Highnesse, where you may
 Enioy your Mistris; from the whom, I see
 There's no disiunction to be made, but by
 (As heauens forefend) your ruine: Marry her,
 And with my best endeuours, in your absence,
 Your discontenting Father, striue to qualifie
 And bring him vp to liking
 
    Flo. How Camillo
 May this (almost a miracle) be done?
 That I may call thee something more then man,
 And after that trust to thee
 
    Cam. Haue you thought on
 A place whereto you'l go?
   Flo. Not any yet:
 But as th' vnthought-on accident is guiltie
 To what we wildely do, so we professe
 Our selues to be the slaues of chance, and flyes
 Of euery winde that blowes
 
    Cam. Then list to me:
 This followes, if you will not change your purpose
 But vndergo this flight: make for Sicillia,
 And there present your selfe, and your fayre Princesse,
 (For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes;
 She shall be habited, as it becomes
 The partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I see
 Leontes opening his free Armes, and weeping
 His Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne forgiuenesse,
 As 'twere i'th' Fathers person: kisses the hands
 Of your fresh Princesse; ore and ore diuides him,
 'Twixt his vnkindnesse, and his Kindnesse: th' one
 He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
 Faster then Thought, or Time
 
    Flo. Worthy Camillo,
 What colour for my Visitation, shall I
 Hold vp before him?
   Cam. Sent by the King your Father
 To greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir,
 The manner of your bearing towards him, with
 What you (as from your Father) shall deliuer,
 Things knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe,
 The which shall point you forth at euery sitting
 What you must say: that he shall not perceiue,
 But that you haue your Fathers Bosome there,
 And speake his very Heart
 
    Flo. I am bound to you:
 There is some sappe in this
 
    Cam. A Course more promising,
 Then a wild dedication of your selues
 To vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; most certaine,
 To Miseries enough: no hope to helpe you,
 But as you shake off one, to take another:
 Nothing so certaine, as your Anchors, who
 Doe their best office, if they can but stay you,
 Where you'le be loth to be: besides you know,
 Prosperitie's the very bond of Loue,
 Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together,
 Affliction alters
 
    Perd. One of these is true:
 I thinke Affliction may subdue the Cheeke,
 But not take-in the Mind
 
    Cam. Yea? say you so?
 There shall not, at your Fathers House, these seuen yeeres
 Be borne another such
 
    Flo. My good Camillo,
 She's as forward, of her Breeding, as
 She is i'th' reare' our Birth
 
    Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pitty
 She lacks Instructions, for she seemes a Mistresse
 To most that teach
 
    Perd. Your pardon Sir, for this,
 Ile blush you Thanks
 
    Flo. My prettiest Perdita.
 But O, the Thornes we stand vpon: (Camillo)
 Preseruer of my Father, now of me,
 The Medicine of our House: how shall we doe?
 We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's Sonne,
 Nor shall appeare in Sicilia
 
    Cam. My Lord,
 Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes
 Doe all lye there: it shall be so my care,
 To haue you royally appointed, as if
 The Scene you play, were mine. For instance Sir,
 That you may know you shall not want: one word.
 Enter Autolicus.
 
   Aut. Ha, ha, what a Foole Honestie is? and Trust (his
 sworne brother) a very simple Gentleman. I haue sold
 all my Tromperie: not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon,
 Glasse, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke, Ballad, Knife,
 Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe
 my Pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first,
 as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought a benediction
 to the buyer: by which meanes, I saw whose
 Purse was best in Picture; and what I saw, to my good
 vse, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but something
 to be a reasonable man) grew so in loue with the
 Wenches Song, that hee would not stirre his Petty-toes,
 till he had both Tune and Words, which so drew the rest
 of the Heard to me, that all their other Sences stucke in
 Eares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was sencelesse;
 'twas nothing to gueld a Cod-peece of a Purse: I
 would haue fill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes: no
 hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring the
 Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I pickd
 and cut most of their Festiuall Purses: And had not the
 old-man come in with a Whoo-bub against his Daughter,
 and the Kings Sonne, and scar'd my Chowghes from
 the Chaffe, I had not left a Purse aliue in the whole
 Army
 
    Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being there
 So soone as you arriue, shall cleare that doubt
 
    Flo. And those that you'le procure from King Leontes?
   Cam. Shall satisfie your Father
 
    Perd. Happy be you:
 All that you speake, shewes faire
 
    Cam. Who haue we here?
 Wee'le make an Instrument of this: omit
 Nothing may giue vs aide
 
    Aut. If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging
 
    Cam. How now (good Fellow)
 Why shak'st thou so? Feare not (man)
 Here's no harme intended to thee
 
    Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir
 
    Cam. Why, be so still: here's no body will steale that
 from thee: yet for the out-side of thy pouertie, we must
 make an exchange; therefore dis-case thee instantly (thou
 must thinke there's a necessitie in't) and change Garments
 with this Gentleman: Though the penny-worth (on his
 side) be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot
 
    Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well
 enough.)
   Cam. Nay prethee dispatch: the Gentleman is halfe
 fled already
 
    Aut. Are you in earnest, Sir? (I smell the trick on't.)
   Flo. Dispatch, I prethee
 
    Aut. Indeed I haue had Earnest, but I cannot with
 conscience take it
 
    Cam. Vnbuckle, vnbuckle.
 Fortunate Mistresse (let my prophecie
 Come home to ye:) you must retire your selfe
 Into some Couert; take your sweet-hearts Hat
 And pluck it ore your Browes, muffle your face,
 Dis-mantle you, and (as you can) disliken
 The truth of your owne seeming, that you may
 (For I doe feare eyes ouer) to Ship-boord
 Get vndescry'd
 
    Perd. I see the Play so lyes,
 That I must beare a part
 
    Cam. No remedie:
 Haue you done there?
   Flo. Should I now meet my Father,
 He would not call me Sonne
 
    Cam. Nay, you shall haue no Hat:
 Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)
   Aut. Adieu, Sir
 
    Flo. O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot?
 'Pray you a word
 
    Cam. What I doe next, shall be to tell the King
 Of this escape, and whither they are bound;
 Wherein, my hope is, I shall so preuaile,
 To force him after: in whose company
 I shall re-view Sicilia; for whose sight,
 I haue a Womans Longing
 
    Flo. Fortune speed vs:
 Thus we set on (Camillo) to th' Sea-side
 
    Cam. The swifter speed, the better.
 Enter.
 
   Aut. I vnderstand the businesse, I heare it: to haue an
 open eare, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for
 a Cut-purse; a good Nose is requisite also, to smell out
 worke for th' other Sences. I see this is the time that the
 vniust man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been,
 without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange?
 Sure the Gods doe this yeere conniue at vs, and we may
 doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about
 a peece of Iniquitie (stealing away from his Father, with
 his Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peece of honestie
 to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: I
 hold it the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein am
 I constant to my Profession.
 Enter Clowne and Shepheard.
 
 Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot braine: Euery
 Lanes end, euery Shop, Church, Session, Hanging, yeelds
 a carefull man worke
 
    Clowne. See, see: what a man you are now? there is no
 other way, but to tell the King she's a Changeling, and
 none of your flesh and blood
 
    Shep. Nay, but heare me
 
    Clow. Nay; but heare me
 
    Shep. Goe too then
 
    Clow. She being none of your flesh and blood, your
 flesh and blood ha's not offended the King, and so your
 flesh and blood is not to be punish'd by him. Shew those
 things you found about her (those secret things, all but
 what she ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law goe
 whistle: I warrant you
 
    Shep. I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and his
 Sonnes prancks too; who, I may say, is no honest man,
 neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make me
 the Kings Brother in Law
 
    Clow. Indeed Brother in Law was the farthest off you
 could haue beene to him, and then your Blood had beene
 the dearer, by I know how much an ounce
 
    Aut. Very wisely (Puppies.)
   Shep. Well: let vs to the King: there is that in this
 Farthell, will make him scratch his Beard
 
    Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaint
 may be to the flight of my Master
 
    Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at' Pallace
 
    Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes
 by chance: Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excrement.
 How now (Rustiques) whither are you bound?
   Shep. To th' Pallace (and it like your Worship.)
   Aut. Your Affaires there? what? with whom? the
 Condition of that Farthell? the place of your dwelling?
 your names? your ages? of what hauing? breeding, and
 any thing that is fitting to be knowne, discouer?
   Clo. We are but plaine fellowes, Sir
 
    Aut. A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haue
 no lying; it becomes none but Trades-men, and they often
 giue vs (Souldiers) the Lye, but wee pay them for it
 with stamped Coyne, not stabbing Steele, therefore they
 doe not giue vs the Lye
 
    Clo. Your Worship had like to haue giuen vs one, if
 you had not taken your selfe with the manner
 
    Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir?
   Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seest
 thou not the ayre of the Court, in these enfoldings? Hath
 not my gate in it, the measure of the Court? Receiues not
 thy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy
 Basenesse, Court-Contempt? Think'st thou, for that I
 insinuate, at toaze from thee thy Businesse, I am therefore
 no Courtier? I am Courtier Capape; and one that
 will eyther push-on, or pluck-back, thy Businesse there:
 whereupon I command thee to open thy Affaire
 
    Shep. My Businesse, Sir, is to the King
 
    Aut. What Aduocate ha'st thou to him?
   Shep. I know not (and't like you.)
   Clo. Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: say
 you haue none
 
    Shep. None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen
 
    Aut. How blessed are we, that are not simple men?
 Yet Nature might haue made me as these are,
 Therefore I will not disdaine
 
    Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier
 
    Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them not
 handsomely
 
    Clo. He seemes to be the more Noble, in being fantasticall:
 A great man, Ile warrant; I know by the picking
 on's Teeth
 
    Aut. The Farthell there? What's i'th' Farthell?
 Wherefore that Box?
   Shep. Sir, there lyes such Secrets in this Farthell and
 Box, which none must know but the King, and which hee
 shall know within this houre, if I may come to th' speech
 of him
 
    Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour
 
    Shep. Why Sir?
   Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboord
 a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himselfe: for
 if thou bee'st capable of things serious, thou must know
 the King is full of griefe
 
    Shep. So 'tis said (Sir:) about his Sonne, that should
 haue marryed a Shepheards Daughter
 
    Aut. If that Shepheard be not in hand-fast, let him
 flye; the Curses he shall haue, the Tortures he shall feele,
 will breake the back of Man, the heart of Monster
 
    Clo. Thinke you so, Sir?
   Aut. Not hee alone shall suffer what Wit can make
 heauie, and Vengeance bitter; but those that are Iermaine
 to him (though remou'd fiftie times) shall all come vnder
 the Hang-man: which, though it be great pitty, yet it is
 necessarie. An old Sheepe-whistling Rogue, a Ram-tender,
 to offer to haue his Daughter come into grace? Some
 say hee shall be ston'd: but that death is too soft for him
 (say I:) Draw our Throne into a Sheep-Coat? all deaths
 are too few, the sharpest too easie
 
    Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare)
 and't like you, Sir?
   Aut. Hee ha's a Sonne: who shall be flayd aliue, then
 'noynted ouer with Honey, set on the head of a Waspes
 Nest, then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead:
 then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or some other hot
 Infusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hotest day Prognostication
 proclaymes) shall he be set against a Brick-wall,
 (the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye vpon him;
 where hee is to behold him, with Flyes blown to death.)
 But what talke we of these Traitorly-Rascals, whose miseries
 are to be smil'd at, their offences being so capitall?
 Tell me (for you seeme to be honest plaine men) what you
 haue to the King: being something gently consider'd, Ile
 bring you where he is aboord, tender your persons to his
 presence, whisper him in your behalfes; and if it be in
 man, besides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man
 shall doe it
 
    Clow. He seemes to be of great authoritie: close with
 him, giue him Gold; and though Authoritie be a stubborne
 Beare, yet hee is oft led by the Nose with Gold:
 shew the in-side of your Purse to the out-side of his
 hand, and no more adoe. Remember ston'd, and flay'd
 aliue
 
    Shep. And't please you (Sir) to vndertake the Businesse
 for vs, here is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as much
 more, and leaue this young man in pawne, till I bring it
 you
 
    Aut. After I haue done what I promised?
   Shep. I Sir
 
    Aut. Well, giue me the Moitie: Are you a partie in
 this Businesse?
   Clow. In some sort, Sir: but though my case be a pittifull
 one, I hope I shall not be flayd out of it
 
    Aut. Oh, that's the case of the Shepheards Sonne:
 hang him, hee'le be made an example
 
    Clow. Comfort, good comfort: We must to the King,
 and shew our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of
 your Daughter, nor my Sister: wee are gone else. Sir, I
 will giue you as much as this old man do's, when the Businesse
 is performed, and remaine (as he sayes) your pawne
 till it be brought you
 
    Aut. I will trust you. Walke before toward the Seaside,
 goe on the right hand, I will but looke vpon the
 Hedge, and follow you
 
    Clow. We are bless'd, in this man: as I may say, euen
 bless'd
 
    Shep. Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided to
 doe vs good
 
    Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would
 not suffer mee: shee drops Booties in my mouth. I am
 courted now with a double occasion: (Gold, and a means
 to doe the Prince my Master good; which, who knowes
 how that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I will
 bring these two Moales, these blind-ones, aboord him: if
 he thinke it fit to shoare them againe, and that the Complaint
 they haue to the King, concernes him nothing, let
 him call me Rogue, for being so farre officious, for I am
 proofe against that Title, and what shame else belongs
 to't: To him will I present them, there may be matter in
 it.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
 
 Enter Leontes, Cleomines, Dion, Paulina, Seruants: Florizel,
 Perdita.
 
   Cleo. Sir, you haue done enough, and haue perform'd
 A Saint-like Sorrow: No fault could you make,
 Which you haue not redeem'd; indeed pay'd downe
 More penitence, then done trespas: At the last
 Doe, as the Heauens haue done; forget your euill,
 With them, forgiue your selfe
 
    Leo. Whilest I remember
 Her, and her Vertues, I cannot forget
 My blemishes in them, and so still thinke of
 The wrong I did my selfe: which was so much,
 That Heire-lesse it hath made my Kingdome, and
 Destroy'd the sweet'st Companion, that ere man
 Bred his hopes out of, true
 
    Paul. Too true (my Lord:)
 If one by one, you wedded all the World,
 Or from the All that are, tooke something good,
 To make a perfect Woman; she you kill'd,
 Would be vnparallell'd
 
    Leo. I thinke so. Kill'd?
 She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strik'st me
 Sorely, to say I did: it is as bitter
 Vpon thy Tongue, as in my Thought. Now, good now,
 Say so but seldome
 
    Cleo. Not at all, good Lady:
 You might haue spoken a thousand things, that would
 Haue done the time more benefit, and grac'd
 Your kindnesse better
 
    Paul. You are one of those
 Would haue him wed againe
 
    Dio. If you would not so,
 You pitty not the State, nor the Remembrance
 Of his most Soueraigne Name: Consider little,
 What Dangers, by his Highnesse faile of Issue,
 May drop vpon his Kingdome, and deuoure
 Incertaine lookers on. What were more holy,
 Then to reioyce the former Queene is well?
 What holyer, then for Royalties repayre,
 For present comfort, and for future good,
 To blesse the Bed of Maiestie againe
 With a sweet Fellow to't?
   Paul. There is none worthy,
 (Respecting her that's gone:) besides the Gods
 Will haue fulfill'd their secret purposes:
 For ha's not the Diuine Apollo said?
 Is't not the tenor of his Oracle,
 That King Leontes shall not haue an Heire,
 Till his lost Child be found? Which, that it shall,
 Is all as monstrous to our humane reason,
 As my Antigonus to breake his Graue,
 And come againe to me: who, on my life,
 Did perish with the Infant. 'Tis your councell,
 My Lord should to the Heauens be contrary,
 Oppose against their wills. Care not for Issue,
 The Crowne will find an Heire. Great Alexander
 Left his to th' Worthiest: so his Successor
 Was like to be the best
 
    Leo. Good Paulina,
 Who hast the memorie of Hermione
 I know in honor: O, that euer I
 Had squar'd me to thy councell: then, euen now,
 I might haue look'd vpon my Queenes full eyes,
 Haue taken Treasure from her Lippes
 
    Paul. And left them
 More rich, for what they yeelded
 
    Leo. Thou speak'st truth:
 No more such Wiues, therefore no Wife: one worse,
 And better vs'd, would make her Sainted Spirit
 Againe possesse her Corps, and on this Stage
 (Where we Offendors now appeare) Soule-vext,
 And begin, why to me?
   Paul. Had she such power,
 She had iust such cause
 
    Leo. She had, and would incense me
 To murther her I marryed
 
    Paul. I should so:
 Were I the Ghost that walk'd, Il'd bid you marke
 Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't
 You chose her: then Il'd shrieke, that euen your eares
 Should rift to heare me, and the words that follow'd,
 Should be, Remember mine
 
    Leo. Starres, Starres,
 And all eyes else, dead coales: feare thou no Wife;
 Ile haue no Wife, Paulina
 
    Paul. Will you sweare
 Neuer to marry, but by my free leaue?
   Leo. Neuer (Paulina) so be bless'd my Spirit
 
    Paul. Then good my Lords, beare witnesse to his Oath
 
    Cleo. You tempt him ouer-much
 
    Paul. Vnlesse another,
 As like Hermione, as is her Picture,
 Affront his eye
 
    Cleo. Good Madame, I haue done
 
    Paul. Yet if my Lord will marry: if you will, Sir;
 No remedie but you will: Giue me the Office
 To chuse you a Queene: she shall not be so young
 As was your former, but she shall be such
 As (walk'd your first Queenes Ghost) it should take ioy
 To see her in your armes
 
    Leo. My true Paulina,
 We shall not marry, till thou bidst vs
 
    Paul. That
 Shall be when your first Queene's againe in breath:
 Neuer till then.
 Enter a Seruant.
 
   Ser. One that giues out himselfe Prince Florizell,
 Sonne of Polixenes, with his Princesse (she
 The fairest I haue yet beheld) desires accesse
 To your high presence
 
    Leo. What with him? he comes not
 Like to his Fathers Greatnesse: his approach
 (So out of circumstance, and suddaine) tells vs,
 'Tis not a Visitation fram'd, but forc'd
 By need, and accident. What Trayne?
   Ser. But few,
 And those but meane
 
    Leo. His Princesse (say you) with him?
   Ser. I: the most peerelesse peece of Earth, I thinke,
 That ere the Sunne shone bright on
 
    Paul. Oh Hermione,
 As euery present Time doth boast it selfe
 Aboue a better, gone; so must thy Graue
 Giue way to what's seene now. Sir, you your selfe
 Haue said, and writ so; but your writing now
 Is colder then that Theame: she had not beene,
 Nor was not to be equall'd, thus your Verse
 Flow'd with her Beautie once; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,
 To say you haue seene a better
 
    Ser. Pardon, Madame:
 The one, I haue almost forgot (your pardon:)
 The other, when she ha's obtayn'd your Eye,
 Will haue your Tongue too. This is a Creature,
 Would she begin a Sect, might quench the zeale
 Of all Professors else; make Proselytes
 Of who she but bid follow
 
    Paul. How? not women?
   Ser. Women will loue her, that she is a Woman
 More worth then any Man: Men, that she is
 The rarest of all Women
 
    Leo. Goe Cleomines,
 Your selfe (assisted with your honor'd Friends)
 Bring them to our embracement. Still 'tis strange,
 He thus should steale vpon vs.
 Enter
 
    Paul. Had our Prince
 (Iewell of Children) seene this houre, he had payr'd
 Well with this Lord; there was not full a moneth
 Betweene their births
 
    Leo. 'Prethee no more; cease: thou know'st
 He dyes to me againe, when talk'd-of: sure
 When I shall see this Gentleman, thy speeches
 Will bring me to consider that, which may
 Vnfurnish me of Reason. They are come.
 Enter Florizell, Perdita, Cleomines, and others.
 
 Your Mother was most true to Wedlock, Prince,
 For she did print your Royall Father off,
 Conceiuing you. Were I but twentie one,
 Your Fathers Image is so hit in you,
 (His very ayre) that I should call you Brother,
 As I did him, and speake of something wildly
 By vs perform'd before. Most dearely welcome,
 And your faire Princesse (Goddesse) oh: alas,
 I lost a couple, that 'twixt Heauen and Earth
 Might thus haue stood, begetting wonder, as
 You (gracious Couple) doe: and then I lost
 (All mine owne Folly) the Societie,
 Amitie too of your braue Father, whom
 (Though bearing Miserie) I desire my life
 Once more to looke on him
 
    Flo. By his command
 Haue I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him
 Giue you all greetings, that a King (at friend)
 Can send his Brother: and but Infirmitie
 (Which waits vpon worne times) hath something seiz'd
 His wish'd Abilitie, he had himselfe
 The Lands and Waters, 'twixt your Throne and his,
 Measur'd, to looke vpon you; whom he loues
 (He bad me say so) more then all the Scepters,
 And those that beare them, liuing
 
    Leo. Oh my Brother,
 (Good Gentleman) the wrongs I haue done thee, stirre
 Afresh within me: and these thy offices
 (So rarely kind) are as Interpreters
 Of my behind-hand slacknesse. Welcome hither,
 As is the Spring to th' Earth. And hath he too
 Expos'd this Paragon to th' fearefull vsage
 (At least vngentle) of the dreadfull Neptune,
 To greet a man, not worth her paines; much lesse,
 Th' aduenture of her person?
   Flo. Good my Lord,
 She came from Libia
 
    Leo. Where the Warlike Smalus,
 That Noble honor'd Lord, is fear'd, and lou'd?
   Flo. Most Royall Sir,
 From thence: from him, whose Daughter
 His Teares proclaym'd his parting with her: thence
 (A prosperous South-wind friendly) we haue cross'd,
 To execute the Charge my Father gaue me,
 For visiting your Highnesse: My best Traine
 I haue from your Sicilian Shores dismiss'd;
 Who for Bohemia bend, to signifie
 Not onely my successe in Libia (Sir)
 But my arriuall, and my Wifes, in safetie
 Here, where we are
 
    Leo. The blessed Gods
 Purge all Infection from our Ayre, whilest you
 Doe Clymate here: you haue a holy Father,
 A graceful Gentleman, against whose person
 (So sacred as it is) I haue done sinne,
 For which, the Heauens (taking angry note)
 Haue left me Issue-lesse: and your Father's bless'd
 (As he from Heauen merits it) with you,
 Worthy his goodnesse. What might I haue been,
 Might I a Sonne and Daughter now haue look'd on,
 Such goodly things as you?
 Enter a Lord.
 
   Lord. Most Noble Sir,
 That which I shall report, will beare no credit,
 Were not the proofe so nigh. Please you (great Sir)
 Bohemia greets you from himselfe, by me:
 Desires you to attach his Sonne, who ha's
 (His Dignitie, and Dutie both cast off)
 Fled from his Father, from his Hopes, and with
 A Shepheards Daughter
 
    Leo. Where's Bohemia? speake:
   Lord. Here, in your Citie: I now came from him.
 I speake amazedly, and it becomes
 My meruaile, and my Message. To your Court
 Whiles he was hastning (in the Chase, it seemes,
 Of this faire Couple) meetes he on the way
 The Father of this seeming Lady, and
 Her Brother, hauing both their Countrey quitted,
 With this young Prince
 
    Flo. Camillo ha's betray'd me;
 Whose honor, and whose honestie till now,
 Endur'd all Weathers
 
    Lord. Lay't so to his charge:
 He's with the King your Father
 
    Leo. Who? Camillo?
   Lord. Camillo (Sir:) I spake with him: who now
 Ha's these poore men in question. Neuer saw I
 Wretches so quake: they kneele, they kisse the Earth;
 Forsweare themselues as often as they speake:
 Bohemia stops his eares, and threatens them
 With diuers deaths, in death
 
    Perd. Oh my poore Father:
 The Heauen sets Spyes vpon vs, will not haue
 Our Contract celebrated
 
    Leo. You are marryed?
   Flo. We are not (Sir) nor are we like to be:
 The Starres (I see) will kisse the Valleyes first:
 The oddes for high and low's alike
 
    Leo. My Lord,
 Is this the Daughter of a King?
   Flo. She is,
 When once she is my Wife
 
    Leo. That once (I see) by your good Fathers speed,
 Will come-on very slowly. I am sorry
 (Most sorry) you haue broken from his liking,
 Where you were ty'd in dutie: and as sorry,
 Your Choice is not so rich in Worth, as Beautie,
 That you might well enioy her
 
    Flo. Deare, looke vp:
 Though Fortune, visible an Enemie,
 Should chase vs, with my Father; powre no iot
 Hath she to change our Loues. Beseech you (Sir)
 Remember, since you ow'd no more to Time
 Then I doe now: with thought of such Affections,
 Step forth mine Aduocate: at your request,
 My Father will graunt precious things, as Trifles
 
    Leo. Would he doe so, I'ld beg your precious Mistris,
 Which he counts but a Trifle
 
    Paul. Sir (my Liege)
 Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a moneth
 'Fore your Queene dy'd, she was more worth such gazes,
 Then what you looke on now
 
    Leo. I thought of her,
 Euen in these Lookes I made. But your Petition
 Is yet vn-answer'd: I will to your Father:
 Your Honor not o're-throwne by your desires,
 I am friend to them, and you: Vpon which Errand
 I now goe toward him: therefore follow me,
 And marke what way I make: Come good my Lord.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scoena Secunda.
 
 
 Enter Autolicus, and a Gentleman.
 
   Aut. Beseech you (Sir) were you present at this Relation?
   Gent.1. I was by at the opening of the Farthell, heard
 the old Shepheard deliuer the manner how he found it:
 Whereupon (after a little amazednesse) we were all commanded
 out of the Chamber: onely this (me thought) I
 heard the Shepheard say, he found the Child
 
    Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it
 
    Gent.1. I make a broken deliuerie of the Businesse;
 but the changes I perceiued in the King, and Camillo, were
 very Notes of admiration: they seem'd almost, with staring
 on one another, to teare the Cases of their Eyes.
 There was speech in their dumbnesse, Language in their
 very gesture: they look'd as they had heard of a World
 ransom'd, or one destroyed: a notable passion of Wonder
 appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew
 no more but seeing, could not say, if th' importance were
 Ioy, or Sorrow; but in the extremitie of the one, it must
 needs be.
 Enter another Gentleman.
 
 Here comes a Gentleman, that happily knowes more:
 The Newes, Rogero
 
    Gent.2. Nothing but Bon-fires: the Oracle is fulfill'd:
 the Kings Daughter is found: such a deale of wonder is
 broken out within this houre, that Ballad-makers cannot
 be able to expresse it.
 Enter another Gentleman.
 
 Here comes the Lady Paulina's Steward, hee can deliuer
 you more. How goes it now (Sir.) This Newes (which
 is call'd true) is so like an old Tale, that the veritie of it is
 in strong suspition: Ha's the King found his Heire?
   Gent.3. Most true, if euer Truth were pregnant by
 Circumstance: That which you heare, you'le sweare
 you see, there is such vnitie in the proofes. The Mantle
 of Queene Hermiones: her Iewell about the Neck of it:
 the Letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know
 to be his Character: the Maiestie of the Creature, in resemblance
 of the Mother: the Affection of Noblenesse,
 which Nature shewes aboue her Breeding, and many other
 Euidences, proclayme her, with all certaintie, to be
 the Kings Daughter. Did you see the meeting of the
 two Kings?
   Gent.2. No
 
    Gent.3. Then haue you lost a Sight which was to bee
 seene, cannot bee spoken of. There might you haue beheld
 one Ioy crowne another, so and in such manner, that
 it seem'd Sorrow wept to take leaue of them: for their
 Ioy waded in teares. There was casting vp of Eyes, holding
 vp of Hands, with Countenance of such distraction,
 that they were to be knowne by Garment, not by Fauor.
 Our King being ready to leape out of himselfe, for ioy of
 his found Daughter; as if that Ioy were now become a
 Losse, cryes, Oh, thy Mother, thy Mother: then askes
 Bohemia forgiuenesse, then embraces his Sonne-in-Law:
 then againe worryes he his Daughter, with clipping her.
 Now he thanks the old Shepheard (which stands by, like
 a Weather-bitten Conduit, of many Kings Reignes.) I
 neuer heard of such another Encounter; which lames Report
 to follow it, and vndo's description to doe it
 
    Gent.2. What, 'pray you, became of Antigonus, that
 carryed hence the Child?
   Gent.3. Like an old Tale still, which will haue matter
 to rehearse, though Credit be asleepe, and not an eare open;
 he was torne to pieces with a Beare: This auouches
 the Shepheards Sonne; who ha's not onely his Innocence
 (which seemes much) to iustifie him, but a Hand-kerchief
 and Rings of his, that Paulina knowes
 
    Gent.1. What became of his Barke, and his Followers?
   Gent.3. Wrackt the same instant of their Masters
 death, and in the view of the Shepheard: so that all the
 Instruments which ayded to expose the Child, were euen
 then lost, when it was found. But oh the Noble Combat,
 that 'twixt Ioy and Sorrow was fought in Paulina. Shee
 had one Eye declin'd for the losse of her Husband, another
 eleuated, that the Oracle was fulfill'd: Shee lifted the
 Princesse from the Earth, and so locks her in embracing,
 as if shee would pin her to her heart, that shee might no
 more be in danger of loosing
 
    Gent.1. The Dignitie of this Act was worth the audience
 of Kings and Princes, for by such was it acted
 
    Gent.3. One of the prettyest touches of all, and that
 which angl'd for mine Eyes (caught the Water, though
 not the Fish) was, when at the Relation of the Queenes
 death (with the manner how shee came to't, brauely confess'd,
 and lamented by the King) how attentiuenesse
 wounded his Daughter, till (from one signe of dolour to
 another) shee did (with an Alas) I would faine say, bleed
 Teares; for I am sure, my heart wept blood. Who was
 most Marble, there changed colour: some swownded, all
 sorrowed: if all the World could haue seen't, the Woe
 had beene vniuersall
 
    Gent.1. Are they returned to the Court?
   Gent.3. No: The Princesse hearing of her Mothers
 Statue (which is in the keeping of Paulina) a Peece many
 yeeres in doing, and now newly perform'd, by that rare
 Italian Master, Iulio Romano, who (had he himselfe Eternitie,
 and could put Breath into his Worke) would beguile
 Nature of her Custome, so perfectly he is her Ape:
 He so neere to Hermione, hath done Hermione, that they
 say one would speake to her, and stand in hope of answer.
 Thither (with all greedinesse of affection) are they gone,
 and there they intend to Sup
 
    Gent.2. I thought she had some great matter there in
 hand, for shee hath priuately, twice or thrice a day, euer
 since the death of Hermione, visited that remoued House.
 Shall wee thither, and with our companie peece the Reioycing?
   Gent.1. Who would be thence, that ha's the benefit
 of Accesse? euery winke of an Eye, some new Grace
 will be borne: our Absence makes vs vnthriftie to our
 Knowledge. Let's along.
 Enter.
 
   Aut. Now (had I not the dash of my former life in
 me) would Preferment drop on my head. I brought the
 old man and his Sonne aboord the Prince; told him, I
 heard them talke of a Farthell, and I know not what: but
 he at that time ouer-fond of the Shepheards Daughter (so
 he then tooke her to be) who began to be much Sea-sick,
 and himselfe little better, extremitie of Weather continuing,
 this Mysterie remained vndiscouer'd. But 'tis all
 one to me: for had I beene the finder-out of this Secret,
 it would not haue rellish'd among my other discredits.
 Enter Shepheard and Clowne.
 
 Here come those I haue done good to against my will,
 and alreadie appearing in the blossomes of their Fortune
 
    Shep. Come Boy, I am past moe Children: but thy
 Sonnes and Daughters will be all Gentlemen borne
 
    Clow. You are well met (Sir:) you deny'd to fight
 with mee this other day, because I was no Gentleman
 borne. See you these Clothes? say you see them not,
 and thinke me still no Gentleman borne: You were best
 say these Robes are not Gentlemen borne. Giue me the
 Lye: doe: and try whether I am not now a Gentleman
 borne
 
    Aut. I know you are now (Sir) a Gentleman borne
 
    Clow. I, and haue been so any time these foure houres
 
    Shep. And so haue I, Boy
 
    Clow. So you haue: but I was a Gentleman borne before
 my Father: for the Kings Sonne tooke me by the
 hand, and call'd mee Brother: and then the two Kings
 call'd my Father Brother: and then the Prince (my Brother)
 and the Princesse (my Sister) call'd my Father, Father;
 and so wee wept: and there was the first Gentleman-like
 teares that euer we shed
 
    Shep. We may liue (Sonne) to shed many more
 
    Clow. I: or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous
 estate as we are
 
    Aut. I humbly beseech you (Sir) to pardon me all the
 faults I haue committed to your Worship, and to giue
 me your good report to the Prince my Master
 
    Shep. 'Prethee Sonne doe: for we must be gentle, now
 we are Gentlemen
 
    Clow. Thou wilt amend thy life?
   Aut. I, and it like your good Worship
 
    Clow. Giue me thy hand: I will sweare to the Prince,
 thou art as honest a true Fellow as any is in Bohemia
 
    Shep. You may say it, but not sweare it
 
    Clow. Not sweare it, now I am a Gentleman? Let
 Boores and Francklins say it, Ile sweare it
 
    Shep. How if it be false (Sonne?)
   Clow. If it be ne're so false, a true Gentleman may
 sweare it, in the behalfe of his Friend: And Ile sweare to
 the Prince, thou art a tall Fellow of thy hands, and that
 thou wilt not be drunke: but I know thou art no tall Fellow
 of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunke: but Ile
 sweare it, and I would thou would'st be a tall Fellow of
 thy hands
 
    Aut. I will proue so (Sir) to my power
 
    Clow. I, by any meanes proue a tall Fellow: if I do not
 wonder, how thou dar'st venture to be drunke, not being
 a tall Fellow, trust me not. Harke, the Kings and Princes
 (our Kindred) are going to see the Queenes Picture.
 Come, follow vs: wee'le be thy good Masters.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scaena Tertia.
 
 Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina:
 Hermione
 (like a Statue:) Lords, &c.
 
   Leo. O graue and good Paulina, the great comfort
 That I haue had of thee?
   Paul. What (Soueraigne Sir)
 I did not well, I meant well: all my Seruices
 You haue pay'd home. But that you haue vouchsaf'd
 (With your Crown'd Brother, and these your contracted
 Heires of your Kingdomes) my poore House to visit;
 It is a surplus of your Grace, which neuer
 My life may last to answere
 
    Leo. O Paulina,
 We honor you with trouble: but we came
 To see the Statue of our Queene. Your Gallerie
 Haue we pass'd through, not without much content
 In many singularities; but we saw not
 That which my Daughter came to looke vpon,
 The Statue of her Mother
 
    Paul. As she liu'd peerelesse,
 So her dead likenesse I doe well beleeue
 Excells what euer yet you look'd vpon,
 Or hand of Man hath done: therefore I keepe it
 Louely, apart. But here it is: prepare
 To see the Life as liuely mock'd, as euer
 Still Sleepe mock'd Death: behold, and say 'tis well.
 I like your silence, it the more shewes-off
 Your wonder: but yet speake, first you (my Liege)
 Comes it not something neere?
   Leo. Her naturall Posture.
 Chide me (deare Stone) that I may say indeed
 Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she,
 In thy not chiding: for she was as tender
 As Infancie, and Grace. But yet (Paulina)
 Hermione was not so much wrinckled, nothing
 So aged as this seemes
 
    Pol. Oh, not by much
 
    Paul. So much the more our Caruers excellence,
 Which lets goe-by some sixteene yeeres, and makes her
 As she liu'd now
 
    Leo. As now she might haue done,
 So much to my good comfort, as it is
 Now piercing to my Soule. Oh, thus she stood,
 Euen with such Life of Maiestie (warme Life,
 As now it coldly stands) when first I woo'd her.
 I am asham'd: Do's not the Stone rebuke me,
 For being more Stone then it? Oh Royall Peece:
 There's Magick in thy Maiestie, which ha's
 My Euils coniur'd to remembrance; and
 From thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits,
 Standing like Stone with thee
 
    Perd. And giue me leaue,
 And doe not say 'tis Superstition, that
 I kneele, and then implore her Blessing. Lady,
 Deere Queene, that ended when I but began,
 Giue me that hand of yours, to kisse
 
    Paul. O, patience:
 The Statue is but newly fix'd; the Colour's
 Not dry
 
    Cam. My Lord, your Sorrow was too sore lay'd-on,
 Which sixteene Winters cannot blow away,
 So many Summers dry: scarce any Ioy
 Did euer so long liue; no Sorrow,
 But kill'd it selfe much sooner
 
    Pol. Deere my Brother,
 Let him, that was the cause of this, haue powre
 To take-off so much griefe from you, as he
 Will peece vp in himselfe
 
    Paul. Indeed my Lord,
 If I had thought the sight of my poore Image
 Would thus haue wrought you (for the Stone is mine)
 Il'd not haue shew'd it
 
    Leo. Doe not draw the Curtaine
 
    Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, least your Fancie
 May thinke anon, it moues
 
    Leo. Let be, let be:
 Would I were dead, but that me thinkes alreadie.
 (What was he that did make it?) See (my Lord)
 Would you not deeme it breath'd? and that those veines
 Did verily beare blood?
   Pol. 'Masterly done:
 The very Life seemes warme vpon her Lippe
 
    Leo. The fixure of her Eye ha's motion in't,
 As we are mock'd with Art
 
    Paul. Ile draw the Curtaine:
 My Lord's almost so farre transported, that
 Hee'le thinke anon it liues
 
    Leo. Oh sweet Paulina,
 Make me to thinke so twentie yeeres together:
 No setled Sences of the World can match
 The pleasure of that madnesse. Let't alone
 
    Paul. I am sorry (Sir) I haue thus farre stir'd you: but
 I could afflict you farther
 
    Leo. Doe Paulina:
 For this Affliction ha's a taste as sweet
 As any Cordiall comfort. Still me thinkes
 There is an ayre comes from her. What fine Chizzell
 Could euer yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
 For I will kisse her
 
    Paul. Good my Lord, forbeare:
 The ruddinesse vpon her Lippe, is wet:
 You'le marre it, if you kisse it; stayne your owne
 With Oyly Painting: shall I draw the Curtaine
 
    Leo. No: not these twentie yeeres
 
    Perd. So long could I
 Stand-by, a looker-on
 
    Paul. Either forbeare,
 Quit presently the Chappell, or resolue you
 For more amazement: if you can behold it,
 Ile make the Statue moue indeed; descend,
 And take you by the hand: but then you'le thinke
 (Which I protest against) I am assisted
 By wicked Powers
 
    Leo. What you can make her doe,
 I am content to looke on: what to speake,
 I am content to heare: for 'tis as easie
 To make her speake, as moue
 
    Paul. It is requir'd
 You doe awake your Faith: then, all stand still:
 On: those that thinke it is vnlawfull Businesse
 I am about, let them depart
 
    Leo. Proceed:
 No foot shall stirre
 
    Paul. Musick; awake her: Strike:
 'Tis time: descend: be Stone no more: approach:
 Strike all that looke vpon with meruaile: Come:
 Ile fill your Graue vp: stirre: nay, come away:
 Bequeath to Death your numnesse: (for from him,
 Deare Life redeemes you) you perceiue she stirres:
 Start not: her Actions shall be holy, as
 You heare my Spell is lawfull: doe not shun her,
 Vntill you see her dye againe; for then
 You kill her double: Nay, present your Hand:
 When she was young, you woo'd her: now, in age,
 Is she become the Suitor?
   Leo. Oh, she's warme:
 If this be Magick, let it be an Art
 Lawfull as Eating
 
    Pol. She embraces him
 
    Cam. She hangs about his necke,
 If she pertaine to life, let her speake too
 
    Pol. I, and make it manifest where she ha's liu'd,
 Or how stolne from the dead?
   Paul. That she is liuing,
 Were it but told you, should be hooted at
 Like an old Tale: but it appeares she liues,
 Though yet she speake not. Marke a little while:
 Please you to interpose (faire Madam) kneele,
 And pray your Mothers blessing: turne good Lady,
 Our Perdita is found
 
    Her. You Gods looke downe,
 And from your sacred Viols poure your graces
 Vpon my daughters head: Tell me (mine owne)
 Where hast thou bin preseru'd? Where liu'd? How found
 Thy Fathers Court? For thou shalt heare that I
 Knowing by Paulina, that the Oracle
 Gaue hope thou wast in being, haue preseru'd
 My selfe, to see the yssue
 
    Paul. There's time enough for that,
 Least they desire (vpon this push) to trouble
 Your ioyes, with like Relation. Go together
 You precious winners all: your exultation
 Partake to euery one: I (an old Turtle)
 Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there
 My Mate (that's neuer to be found againe)
 Lament, till I am lost
 
    Leo. O peace Paulina:
 Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,
 As I by thine a Wife. This is a Match,
 And made betweene's by Vowes. Thou hast found mine,
 But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her
 (As I thought) dead: and haue (in vaine) said many
 A prayer vpon her graue. Ile not seeke farre
 (For him, I partly know his minde) to finde thee
 An honourable husband. Come Camillo,
 And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honesty
 Is richly noted: and heere iustified
 By Vs, a paire of Kings. Let's from this place.
 What? looke vpon my Brother: both your pardons,
 That ere I put betweene your holy lookes
 My ill suspition: This your Son-in-law,
 And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directing
 Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,
 Leade vs from hence, where we may leysurely
 Each one demand, and answere to his part
 Perform'd in this wide gap of Time, since first
 We were disseuer'd: Hastily lead away.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 The Names of the Actors.
 
  Leontes, King of Sicillia.
  Mamillus, yong Prince of Sicillia.
  Camillo.
  Antigonus.
  Cleomines.
  Dion.
  Foure
  Lords of Sicillia.
  Hermione, Queene to Leontes.
  Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione.
  Paulina, wife to Antigonus.
  Emilia, a Lady.
  Polixenes, King of Bohemia.
  Florizell, Prince of Bohemia.
  Old Shepheard, reputed Father of Perdita.
  Clowne, his Sonne.
  Autolicus, a Rogue.
  Archidamus, a Lord of Bohemia.
  Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Seruants.
  Shepheards, and Shephearddesses.
 
 FINIS. The Winters Tale.