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The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With, hey! the sweet birds, O how they hing!
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
With, bey! with, hey! the thrush and the jay:
While we lie tumbling in the bay.
The pale moon Shines by night :
I then do go most right.
And bear the fow-skin budget;
And in the stocks avouch it. My traffick is sheets; when the kite builds, look to leffer linnen. 4 My father nam'd me Autolicus, being litter'd under Mercury; who, as I am, was likewife a snapper-up of unconsider'd trifles: with die and
: drab, I purchas'd this caparison ; and s my revenue
is 4 My father nam'd me Autolicus, &c,] Mr. Theobald says, the allufon is unqueftiorably to Ovid. He is mistaken. Not only the allusion, but the whole speech is taken from Lucian; who appears to have been one of our Poet's favourite authors, as may be col. lected from several places of his works. It is from bis discourse or judicial Afrology, where Autolicus talks much in the same manner; and 'ris only on this account that he is called the son of Mercury by the ancients, namely because he was born under that planet. And as the infant was supposed by the Astrologers to communicate of the nature of the star which predominated, so Autolicus was a thief.
5 my revenue is the filly cheat.] Silly is used by the writers of our author's time, for simple, low, mean; and in this the humour
of [(a) pregging - Oxford Edition - Vulg pugging ]
is the filly cheat. Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the high-way ; beating and hanging are terrors to me: for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. — A prize! a prize!
Enter Clown. Clo. Let me see, Every eleven weather tods, every tod yields pound and odd shilling ; fifteen hun dred 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-fhearing feast, three pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice what will this sister of mine do with rice? but my father hath made her mistrefs 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 sings psalms to hornpipes. I muft have faffron to colour the warden-pies, mace - -dates none - that's out of my note : nutmegs, feven ; a race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many raisins o'th' fun. 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 of the speech consists. I don't aspire to arduous and high things, as bridewell or the gallows; I am content with this humble and low way of life, as a snapper up of ur.consider'd trifles. But the Oxford Editor, who, by his emendations, seems to have declared war against all Shakespear's humour, alters it to, the fly cheat.
Clo. Alack, poor soul, thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.
Aut. 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 put upon me. Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a footman: Aut. A footman, sweet Sir, a footman.
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 sevice. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee. Come, lend me thy hand.
[Helping bim up. Aut. Oh! good Sir, tenderly, oh! Clo. Alas, poor soul.
Aut. O good Sir, softly, good Sir: I fear, Sir, my shoulder-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
Aut. “ A fellow, Sir, that I have known to go ss 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.
6 with trol.my.dames:] Trou-madame, French. The game of nine-holes.
servant 7 motion of the prodigal son,] i.e. the Puppet-few, then called Motions. A term frequently occurring in our Author.
Clo. “ His vices, you would say; 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 since an ape-bearer, then a process“ server, a bailiff; then he compass'd a ' motion of " the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife within " a mile where my land and living lies; and, having “ flown over many knavith professions, he settled
only in a rogue;" fome 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
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.
Clo. 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-shearing.
[Exit. Aut. Prosper you, sweet Sir! Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I make not this cheat
bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, s let me be unrolld, and my name put into the book of virtue!
all the day,
S CE N E IV.
Enter Florizel and Perdita.
you Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora Peering in April's front. This your sheep-fhearing 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 felf, The gracious mark o'th' land, you have obscur'd With a swain's wearing ; and me, poor lowly maid, Most goddess-like prank'd up. But that our feafts In every mess have folly, and the feeders Digest it with a custom, I should blush To see you so atrired; o sworn, I think,
To 8 let me be unroll'd, and my name put into the book of virtal! ] Begging gipfies, in the time of our author, were in gangs and companies, that had something of the shew of an incorporated Body. From this noble society he wishes he may be unrolled if he does not fo and so. 9
fworn, I think, To lhew myself a glass.] i. e. one would think that in porting on this habit of a shepherd, you had sworn to put me out of