The Winters Tale

William Shakespeare

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  • The Winters Tale
  • 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,


      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.