« ZurückWeiter »
Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the garments he hath left with thee; if this be a horse-man's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee. Come, lend me thy hand.
[Helping him up. Aut. Oh! good Sir, tenderly, oh! Clo. Alas, poor soul.
Aut. O good Sir, softly, good Sir: I fear, Sir, my thoulder-blade is out.
Clo. How now? canst stand ?
Aut. Softly, dear Sir; good Sir, softly; you ha' done me a charitable office.
Clo. Doft lack any mony? I have a little mony for thee.
Aut. No, good sweet Sir; no, I beseech you, Sir; I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have mony, or any thing I want: offer me no mony, I pray you; that kills my heart.
Clo. What manner of fellow was he, that robb'd you?
Aut. A fellow, Sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames : I knew him once a servant of the prince; I cannot tell, good Sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipp'd out of the court.
Clo. His vices, you would fay; there's no virtue whipp'd out of the court; they cherish it to make it stay, there, and yet it will no more but abide.
Aut. Vices I would say, Sir. I know this man well; he hath been fince an ape-bearer, then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compass'd a motion of the prodigal fon, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lyes; and, having flown over many knavish profeffions, he settled only in a rogue; some call him Autolicus.
Clo. Out upon him, prig! for my life, prig; he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.
Aut. Very true, Sir ; he, Sir, he; that's the rogue, that put me into this apparel.
Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but look'd big, and spit at him, he'd have run.
Aut. I must confess to you, Sir, I am no fighter ; I am false of heart that way, and that he knew, I warrant him.
Cle. How do you now?
Aut. Sweet Sir, much better than I was; I can stand, and walk; I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's.
Clo. Shall I bring thee on thy way?
Clo. Then, farewel, I must go to buy spices for our sheep-fhearing.
[Exit. Aut. Prosper you, sweet Sir! Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your fpice. I'll be with you at your sheep - shearing too : if I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unroll’d, and my name put into the book of virtue!
And merrily bent the file-a.
[Exit. SCEN E, the Prospect of a Shepherd's Cotté.
Enter Florizel and Perdita. Fl.THESE your unusual weeds to each part of you
Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora Peering in April's front. This your sheep-lhearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And you the Queen on't.
Per. Sir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extreams it not becomes me : Oh pardon, that I name them: your high self, The gracious mark o'th' land, you have obscurid With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid, Most goddess-like prank'd up. But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Flo. I bless the time,
Per. O, but, dear Sir,
purpose, Or I my life.
Flo. Thou dearest Perdita,
I be not thine. To this I am most constant,
you behold the while. Your guests are coming:
Per. O lady fortune,
with Polixenes and Camillo disguis'd.
Shep. Fie, daughter; when my old wife liv’d, upon
[To Pol. and Cam. It is my father's will, I should take on me The hostessship o'th' day; you're welcome, Sirs. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. -Reverend Sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue, these keep Seeming and favour all the winter long : Grace and remembrance be unto you both, And welcome to our fhearing!
Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,
Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Per. For I have heard it said,
Pol. Say, there be;
This is an art,
Per. So it is.
Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly-flowers, And do not call them bastards.
Per. I'll not put The dibble in earth, to set one slip of them : No more than, were I painted, I would with This youth should say, 'twere well; and only therefore: Desire to breed by me.- Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, favoury, marjoram, The mary-gold, that goes to bed with th' sun, And with him rises, weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given To mén of middle age.
welcome. Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing.