DORCAS. Whither?

MOPSA. O, whither?

DORCAS. Whither?

MOPSA. It becomes thy oath full well Thou to me thy secrets tell.

DORCAS. Me too! Let me go thither MOPSA. Or thou goest to th' grange or mill.

DORCAS. If to either, thou dost ill.

AUTOLYCUS. Neither.

DORCAS. What, neither?

AUTOLYCUS. Neither.

DORCAS. Thou hast sworn my love to be.

MOPSA. Thou hast sworn it more to me.

Then whither goest? Say, whither?

CLOWN. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves; my father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them. Come, bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both.

Pedlar, let's have the first choice. Follow me, girls.

Exit with DORCAS and MOPSA AUTOLYCUS. And you shall pay well for 'em.

Exit AUTOLYCUS, Singing

Will you buy any tape, Or lace for your cape, My dainty duck, my dear-a?

Any silk, any thread, Any toys for your head, Of the new'st and fin'st, fin'st wear-a?

Come to the pedlar; Money's a meddler That doth utter all men's ware-a.

Re-enter SERVANT

SERVANT. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, three swineherds, that have made themselves all men of hair; they call themselves Saltiers, and they have dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not in't; but they themselves are o' th' mind, if it be not too rough for some that know little but bowling, it will please plentifully.

SHEPHERD. Away! We'll none on't; here has been too much homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you.

POLIXENES. You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen.

SERVANT. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danc'd before the King; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by th' squier.

SHEPHERD. Leave your prating; since these good men are pleas'd, let them come in; but quickly now.

SERVANT. Why, they stay at door, sir. Exit

Here a dance of twelve SATYRS

POLIXENES. [To SHEPHERD] O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.

[To CAMILLO] Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them.

He's simple and tells much. [To FLORIZEL] How now, fair shepherd!

Your heart is full of something that does take Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young And handed love as you do, I was wont To load my she with knacks; I would have ransack'd The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it To her acceptance: you have let him go And nothing marted with him. If your la.s.s Interpretation should abuse and call this Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited For a reply, at least if you make a care Of happy holding her.

FLORIZEL. Old sir, I know She prizes not such trifles as these are.

The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd Up in my heart, which I have given already, But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life Before this ancient sir, whom, it should seem, Hath sometime lov'd. I take thy hand- this hand, As soft as dove's down and as white as it, Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow that's bolted By th' northern blasts twice o'er.

POLIXENES. What follows this?

How prettily the young swain seems to wash The hand was fair before! I have put you out.

But to your protestation; let me hear What you profess.

FLORIZEL. Do, and be witness to't.

POLIXENES. And this my neighbour too?

FLORIZEL. And he, and more Than he, and men- the earth, the heavens, and all: That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge More than was ever man's, I would not prize them Without her love; for her employ them all; Commend them and condemn them to her service Or to their own perdition.

POLIXENES. Fairly offer'd.

CAMILLO. This shows a sound affection.

SHEPHERD. But, my daughter, Say you the like to him?

PERDITA. I cannot speak So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better.

By th' pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his.

SHEPHERD. Take hands, a bargain!

And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't: I give my daughter to him, and will make Her portion equal his.

FLORIZEL. O, that must be I' th' virtue of your daughter. One being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet; Enough then for your wonder. But come on, Contract us fore these witnesses.

SHEPHERD. Come, your hand; And, daughter, yours.

POLIXENES. Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; Have you a father?

FLORIZEL. I have, but what of him?

POLIXENES. Knows he of this?

FLORIZEL. He neither does nor shall.

POLIXENES. Methinks a father Is at the nuptial of his son a guest That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more, Is not your father grown incapable Of reasonable affairs? Is he not stupid With age and alt'ring rheums? Can he speak, hear, Know man from man, dispute his own estate?

Lies he not bed-rid, and again does nothing But what he did being childish?

FLORIZEL. No, good sir; He has his health, and ampler strength indeed Than most have of his age.

POLIXENES. By my white beard, You offer him, if this be so, a wrong Something unfilial. Reason my son Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason The father- all whose joy is nothing else But fair posterity- should hold some counsel In such a business.

FLORIZEL. I yield all this; But, for some other reasons, my grave sir, Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint My father of this business.

POLIXENES. Let him know't.

FLORIZEL. He shall not.

POLIXENES. Prithee let him.

FLORIZEL. No, he must not.

SHEPHERD. Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice.

FLORIZEL. Come, come, he must not.

Mark our contract.

POLIXENES. [Discovering himself] Mark your divorce, young sir, Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base To be acknowledg'd- thou a sceptre's heir, That thus affects a sheep-hook! Thou, old traitor, I am sorry that by hanging thee I can but Shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know The royal fool thou cop'st with- SHEPHERD. O, my heart!

POLIXENES. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers and made More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, If I may ever know thou dost but sigh That thou no more shalt see this knack- as never I mean thou shalt- we'll bar thee from succession; Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, Farre than Deucalion off. Mark thou my words.

Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time, Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment, Worthy enough a herdsman- yea, him too That makes himself, but for our honour therein, Unworthy thee- if ever henceforth thou These rural latches to his entrance open, Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, I will devise a death as cruel for thee As thou art tender to't. Exit PERDITA. Even here undone!

I was not much afeard; for once or twice I was about to speak and tell him plainly The self-same sun that s.h.i.+nes upon his court Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike. [To FLORIZEL] Will't please you, sir, be gone?

I told you what would come of this. Beseech you, Of your own state take care. This dream of mine- Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther, But milk my ewes and weep.

CAMILLO. Why, how now, father!

Speak ere thou diest.

SHEPHERD. I cannot speak nor think, Nor dare to know that which I know. [To FLORIZEL] O sir, You have undone a man of fourscore-three That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea, To die upon the bed my father died, To lie close by his honest bones; but now Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me Where no priest shovels in dust. [To PERDITA] O cursed wretch, That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst adventure To mingle faith with him!- Undone, undone!

If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd To die when I desire. Exit FLORIZEL. Why look you so upon me?

I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd, But nothing alt'red. What I was, I am: More straining on for plucking back; not following My leash unwillingly.

CAMILLO. Gracious, my lord, You know your father's temper. At this time He will allow no speech- which I do guess You do not purpose to him- and as hardly Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear; Then, till the fury of his Highness settle, Come not before him.

FLORIZEL. I not purpose it.

I think Camillo?

CAMILLO. Even he, my lord.

PERDITA. How often have I told you 'twould be thus!

How often said my dignity would last But till 'twere known!

FLORIZEL. It cannot fail but by The violation of my faith; and then Let nature crush the sides o' th' earth together And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks.

From my succession wipe me, father; I Am heir to my affection.

CAMILLO. Be advis'd.

FLORIZEL. I am- and by my fancy; if my reason Will thereto be obedient, I have reason; If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness, Do bid it welcome.

CAMILLO. This is desperate, sir.

FLORIZEL. So call it; but it does fulfil my vow: I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may Be thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hides In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath To this my fair belov'd. Therefore, I pray you, As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend, When he shall miss me- as, in faith, I mean not To see him any more- cast your good counsels Upon his pa.s.sion. Let myself and Fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know, And so deliver: I am put to sea With her who here I cannot hold on sh.o.r.e.

And most opportune to her need I have A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd For this design. What course I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting.

CAMILLO. O my lord, I would your spirit were easier for advice.

Or stronger for your need.

FLORIZEL. Hark, Perdita. [Takes her aside]

[To CAMILLO] I'll hear you by and by.

CAMILLO. He's irremovable, Resolv'd for flight. Now were I happy if His going I could frame to serve my turn, Save him from danger, do him love and honour, Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia And that unhappy king, my master, whom I so much thirst to see.

FLORIZEL. Now, good Camillo, I am so fraught with curious business that I leave out ceremony.

CAMILLO. Sir, I think You have heard of my poor services i' th' love That I have borne your father?