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that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to the sight of him.

Cle. Marry, will I; and you fall help to put him i'th' ground.

Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't.

[Exluni. Enter Time, as Chorus. Time. I, that please fome, try all, both joy and

terror
Of good and bad, that mask and unfold error; (11)
Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime
To me, or my swift passage, that I Nide
O'er fixteen years, and leave the growth untry'd
Of that wide gap; since it is in my power
To o'erthrow law, and in one felf-born hour
To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass

The fame I am, ere ancient'l order was,
Or what is now receiv'd. I witness to
The times, that brought them in ; so shall I do
To th' freshest things now reigning, and make ftale
The gliftering of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it: your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass; and give my scene fuch growing,
As you had slept between. Leentes leaving
Th'effects of his fond jealousies, fo grieving
That he shuts up himself; imagine mę,
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bohemia ; and remember well,
I mention here a son o'th' King's whom Florizel
I now name to you; and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace

(11) -That make and unfold Error.} This does nor in my Opinion take in the Poet's Thought. Time does not make mistakes, and discover them, at different Conjunctures ; but the Poet means, that Time often for a Season covers Errors, which he afterwards displays and brings to Light. I chuse therefore to read; thai maske and unfold Error.

Equal

Equal with wondring. What of her ensues,
I lift not prophesie. But let Time's news
Be known, when’tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter,
And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is th' argument of time; of this allow,
If ever you have spent time worse ere now:
If never, yet that Time himself doth say,
He wishes earnestly, you never may:

[Exit.

A C T IV.

SCEN E, the Court of Bohemia.

Enter Polixenes and Camillo.

POLIXEN I S.

grant this.

'tis a fickness denying thec any thing, a death to Cam. It is fifteen years since I saw my country: though I have for the most part been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King, my master, hath sent for me ; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to think so, which is another fpur to my departure.

Pol. As thou lov'st me, Camillo, wipe not out the reft of thy fervices by leaving me now; the need I have of thee, thine own goodness hath made: better not to have had thee, than thus to want thee. Thou having made me businesses, which none, without thee, can fufficiently manage, muft either stay to execute them thy self, or take away with thee the very services thou hast done ; which if I have not enough confider'd, (as too much I cannot,) to be more thankful to thee shall be my ftudy ; and my profit therein, the heaping friendships. Of that fatal country Sicilia, prythee, speak no more; whose very naming punishes.me with the remembrance of that

penitent,

penitent, as thou call'f him, and reconciled King my brother, whose loss of his most precious Queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when faw'st thou the Prince Florizel my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them, when they have approved their virtues.

Cam. Sir, it is three days since I saw the Prince ; what his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown : but I have (missingly) noted, he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appear'd.

Pol. I have consider'd so much, Camillo, and with fome care so far, that I have eyes under my service, which look upon his removedness; from whom I have this intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a moft homely shepherd; a man, they fay, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate.

Cam. I have heard, Sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note; the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.

Pol. (12) That's likewise a part of my intelligence ; and, I fear, the Engle that plucks our son thither. Thou fhalt accompany us to the place, where we will (not ap

(12) That's likewise part of my Intelligence; but, I fear the Angle that plucks our son thither.) The disjunctive here, I think, makes ftark Nonsence of the Context: and the Editors have palm'd an Allusion in the Word Angle, whi

seems foreign to the Sense of the Passage. As, before, in the Taming of the Shrew, Angel is mistakenly put for Engle: so, I suspe&t, Angle, by the same ealy Corruption, is here. I have there prov'd the Use and Meaning of the Word. I'll proceed briefly to justify the Emendation I have here made, by sewing how naturally it falls in with the Sense we should expect. Camillo had juft rold the King, he had heard of such a Shepherd, and of a Daughter he had of most rare Note. Ay, replies the King, that's a Part of my Intelligence 100; and, 1. fear, (rhat Daughter is] the Siren, TheDecoy, the Invitation, ihat plucks our Son shither.

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pearing what we are) have some question with the shepherd; from whose fimplicity, I think it not uneasie to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Pr’ythee, be my present partner in this business, and lay afide the thoughts of Sicilia.

Cam. I willingly obey your command.
Pol. My best Camillo-we must disguise our selves.

[Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Country.

Enter Autolicus singing.
HEN daffadils begin to peere,

With, heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o'th' year;

For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,

With, hey! the sweet birds, o how they fing!
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge :

For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
The lark, that tirra-lyra chaunts,

With, bey! with, hey! the thrush and the jay:
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,

While we lie tumbling in the bay.
I have served Prince Florizel, and in my time wore
three-pile, but now I am out of service.
But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?

The pale moon shines by night:
And when I wander here and there,

I then do go most right.
if tinkers

may

have leave to live, And bear the

foru-skin budget ; Then my account I well may give,

And in the flocks avouch it. My traffick is fheets; when the kite builds, look to leffer linnen. My father nam'd me Autolicus, being litter'd under Mercury; who, as I am, was likewise a snapperup of unconsider'd trifles: with die and drab, I purchas'd this caparison; and my revenue is the filly cheat. Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the high-way; VOL. III.

N

beating

beating and hanging are terrors to me: for the life to come, I seep out the thought of it. A prize!-a prize!

Enter Clown. Clo. Let me fee,- Every eleven weather tods, every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred fhorn, what comes the wool too ? Aut. If the sprindge hold, the cock's mine.

[ Afide. Clo. I cannot do't without compters. Let me see, what am I to buy for our sheep Shearing feast, three pound of sugar, five pound of currants, ricewhat will this filter of mine do with rice? but my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for the shearers; three-man song-men all, and very good ones, but they are most of them means and bases; but one Puritan among them, and he fings psalms to horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden-pies, macedates

that's out of my note : nutmegs, seven ; 'a race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many raisins o'th' sun. Aut. Oh, that ever I was born!

[Groveling on the ground. Clo. I'th' name of me- Aut. Oh, help me, help me: pluck but off these rags, and then death, death,

Clo. Alack, poor foul, thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.

Āut. Oh, Sir, the loathsomness of them offends me, more than the stripes I have receiv'd, which are mighty ones, and millions.

Clo. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter.

Aut. I am robb’d, Sir, and beaten ; my mony and apparel ta’en from me, and these detestable things pus upon me. Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a footman? Aut. A footman, sweet Sir, a footman,

Clo.

none

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