Aut. Vices I would fay, Sir. I know this man well, he hath been fince an ape-bearer, then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compafs'd a motion of the prodigal fon, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavifh profeffions, he fettled only in 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.

Cla. 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 confefs 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 F was; I can ftand, and walk; I will even take my leave of you, and pace foftly towards my kinfman's. Clo. Shall I bring thee on thy way? Aut. No, good-fac'd Sir; no, fweet Sir. Clo. Then, farewel, I must go to buy spices for our fheep-fhearing. · [Exit. Aut. Profper you, fweet Sir! your purfe is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your fheep-fhearing too: if I make not this cheat bringout another, and the fhearers prove fheep (25) let me be unroll'd, and my name put into the book of virtue ! S O N G.

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the ftile-a.
A merry heart goes all the day,

Your fad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit..

(25) Let me be unroll'd, and my name put in the book of virtue.] Be ging gypfies, &c. in the time of our Author were in gangs, that had fomething of the regularity of an incorporated body. This is alhuded to here. From this noble fociety he wishes he may be unroll'd, he does not do so, and fo, Mr. Warburton.

SCENE

SCENE, the prospect of a Shepherd's Cott.

Enter Florizel and Perdita.

Flo. Do give a life: no fhepherdefs, but Flora

HESE your unusual weeds to each part of you

Peering in April's front. This your fheep-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 obfcur'd
With a fwain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,
Moft goddess-like prank'd up. But that our feafts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digeft it with a cuftom, I fhould blush
To fee you fo attired; fworn, I think,
To fhew myself a glass.

Flo. I blefs the time,

When my good falcon made her flight a-cros
Thy father's ground.

Per. Now Jove afford you

caufe!

To me the difference forges dread; (your greatness
Hath not been us'd to fear;) even now I tremble
To think, your father, by fome accident,

Should pass this way, as you did: oh, the fates!
How would he look, to fee his work, fo noble,
Vildly bound up! what would he fay! or how.
Should I in these my borrow'd flaunts behold
The fternness of his prefence ?

Flo. Apprehend

Nothing but jollity: the gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The shapes of beafts upon them. Jupiter
Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune
A ram, and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble fwain,
As I feem now. Their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,

Nor

Nor in a way fo chafte: fince

my defires

Run not before mine honour, nor my lufts
Burn hotter than my
faith.

Per. O, but, dear Sir,

Your refolution cannot hold, when 'tis

Oppos'd, as it muft be, by th' power o'th' King.
One of these two must be neceffities,

Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose,
Or I my life.

Flo. Thou deareft Perdita,

With thefe forc'd thoughts, 1 pr'ythee, darken not
The mirth o'th' feaft; or I'll be thine, my fair,
Or not my father's. For I cannot be
Mine own, nor any thing to any, if

I be not thine. To this I am most constant,
Tho' deftiny fay no. Be merry, (Gentle,)
Strangle fuch thoughts as thefe, with any thing
That you behold the while. Your guests are coming:
Lift up your countenance, as 'twere the day

Of celebration of that nuptial, which

We two have fworn fhall come.

Per. O lady Fortune,

Stand you aufpicious!

Enter Shepherd, Clown, Mopfa, Dorcas, Servants; with Polixenes and Camillo disguis'd.

Flo. See, your guests approach;

Addrefs yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Fy, daughter; when my old wife liv'd, upon
This day he was both pantler, butler, cook,
Both dame and fervant; welcom'd all, fervid all;
Would fing her fong, and dance her turn; now.here
At upper end o'th' table, now i'th' middle;
On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire
With labour; and the thing fhe took to quench it
She would to each one fip. You are retired,
As if you were a feafted one, and not
The hoftefs of the meeting: pray you, bid
These unknown friends to's welcome, for it is

A

A way to make us better friends, more known.
Come, quench your blushes, and prefent yourself
That which you are, mistress o'th' feaft. Come on,
And bid us welcome to your fheep-fhearing,

As your good flock fhall profper.

Per. Sirs, welcome.

[To Pol. and Cam.

It is my father's will, I should take on me

The hoftefsfhip o'th' day; you're welcome, Sirs.
Give me thofe flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend Sirs,
For you there's rofemary and rue, these keep
Seeming and favour all the winter long :
Grace and remembrance be unto you both,
And welcome to our shearing!

Pol. Shepherdess,

(A fair one are you,) well you fit our ages With flowers of winter.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,

Not yet on fummer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o'th' feafon
Are our carnations, and ftreak'd gilly-flowers,
Which fome call Nature's baftards: of that kind
Our ruftick garden's barren, and I care not

To get flips of them.

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,

Do you neglect, them?

Per. For I have heard it said,

There is an art, which in their pideness shares
With great creating Nature.

Pol. Say, there be;

Yet Nature is made better by no mean,

But Nature makes that mean; fo over that art,

Which, you fay, adds to Nature, is an art

That Nature makes; you fee, fweet maid, we marry
A gentler fcyon to the wildeft ftock;

And make conceive a bark of bafer kind
By bud of nobler race. This is an art,
Which does mend Nature,

The art itfelf is Nature

Per. So it is.

change it rather; but

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly-flowers,

And

And do not call them baftards.

Per. I'll not put

The dibble in earth, to set one flip of them:
No more than, were I painted, I would with
This youth fhould fay, 'twere well; and only therefore
Defire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, favoury, marjoram,
The mary-gold, that goes to bed with th' fun,
And with him rifes, weeping: these are Aowers
Of middle-fummer, and, I think, they are given
To men of middle-age. Y'are very welcome.
Cam. I fhould leave grazing, were I of your flock,,
And only live by gazing.

Per. Out, alas!

You'd be fo lean, that blafts of January

[friend,. Would blow you through and through. Now, my faireft I would, I had fome flowers o'th' fpring, that might Become your time of day; and yours, and yours, That wear upon your virgin-branches yet Your maiden-heads growing:

Proferpina,

For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'ft fall

From Dis's waggon! daffadils,

That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But fweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his ftrength; (a malady
Moft incident to maids;) bold oxlips, and
The crown-imperial; lillies of all kinds,
The flower-de-lis being one. O, thefe I lack
To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend,
To ftrow him o'er and o'er.

Flo. What? like a coarse?

Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on;

Not like a coarse; or if,- not to be buried

But quick, and in mine arms, Come, take your flowers;
Methinks, I play as I have feen them do

In Whitfun paftorals: fure, this robe of mine
Does change my difpofition.