The Winter's Tale (12 page)

AUTOLYCUS
     O, that ever I was born!
Grovels on

CLOWN
    
I'th'name of me
⁴⁸
.
the ground

AUTOLYCUS
     O, help me, help me! Pluck but off these rags, and
       then, death, death!

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

AUTOLYCUS
     O, sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more
       than the
stripes
⁵⁴
I have received, which are mighty ones and
       millions.

CLOWN
     Alas, poor man, a million of beating may come to a
      
great matter
⁵⁷
.

AUTOLYCUS
     I am robbed, sir, and beaten. My money and apparel
       ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.

CLOWN
     What, by a
horseman, or a footman
⁶⁰
?

AUTOLYCUS
     A footman, sweet sir, a footman.

CLOWN
     Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he
       has left with thee. If this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen
       very
hot service
⁶⁴
. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee. Come, lend
       me thy hand.
Helps him to his feet

AUTOLYCUS
     O, good sir, tenderly, O!

CLOWN
     Alas, poor soul!

AUTOLYCUS
     O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade
       is
out
⁶⁹
.

CLOWN
     How now? Canst stand?

AUTOLYCUS
     Softly, dear sir. Good sir, softly. You ha'
Picks his pocket
       done me a charitable office.

CLOWN
     Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

AUTOLYCUS
     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 money, or anything I want.
       Offer me no money, I pray you. That kills my heart.

CLOWN
     What manner of fellow was he that robbed you?

AUTOLYCUS
     A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with
      
troll-my-dames
⁸⁰
. 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 whipped out of the court.

CLOWN
     His vices, you would say. There's no virtue whipped
       out of the court. They cherish it to make it stay there; and yet
       it will no more but
abide
⁸⁵
.

AUTOLYCUS
     Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well. He hath
       been since an
ape-bearer
⁸⁷
, then a
process-server
, a bailiff,
       then he
compassed a motion
⁸⁸
of the
prodigal son
, and
       married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and
      
living
⁹⁰
lies, and, having
flown over
many knavish professions,
       he settled only in rogue. Some call him Autolycus.

CLOWN
     Out upon him!
Prig
⁹²
, for my life, prig. He haunts
      
wakes
⁹³
, fairs and bear-baitings.

AUTOLYCUS
     Very true, sir. He, sir, he. That's the rogue that put
       me into this apparel.

CLOWN
     Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you
       had but looked big and spit at him, he'd have run.

AUTOLYCUS
     I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter. I am
false
       of heart
⁹⁸
that way, and that he knew, I warrant him.

CLOWN
     How do you now?

AUTOLYCUS
     Sweet sir, much better than I was. I can stand and
       walk. I will even take my leave of you, and pace
softly
¹⁰²
       towards my kinsman's.

CLOWN
     Shall I bring thee on the way?

AUTOLYCUS
     No,
good-faced
¹⁰⁵
sir. No, sweet sir.

CLOWN
     Then fare thee well. I must go buy spices for our
       sheep-shearing.
Exit

AUTOLYCUS
     Prosper you, sweet sir! Your purse is not
hot
¹⁰⁸
enough
       to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing
       too. If I make not this
cheat
¹¹⁰
bring out
another and
       the shearers prove
sheep
¹¹¹
, let me be
unrolled
and my name
       put in the book of virtue!

[
Sings
]
song
     Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,
           And merrily
hent
¹¹⁴
the stile-a:
           A merry heart goes all the day,
           Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Exit

Enter Florizel
[
wearing shepherd's clothing, and
]
Perdita

FLORIZEL
     These your
unusual weeds
¹
to each part of you
       Does give a life: no shepherdess, but
Flora
²
      
Peering in April's front
³
. This your sheep-shearing
       Is as a meeting of the
petty
⁴
gods,
       And you the queen on't.

PERDITA
     Sir, my gracious lord,
       To
chide at your extremes
⁷
it not becomes me —
       O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self,
       The gracious
mark o'th'land
⁹
, you have
obscured
       With a
swain's wearing
¹⁰
, and me, poor lowly maid,
       Most goddess-like
pranked up
¹¹
. But that our feasts
       In every
mess
¹²
have
folly
and the feeders
      
Digest it with a custom
¹³
, I should blush
       To see you so attired, swoon, I think,
       To
show myself a glass
¹⁵
.

FLORIZEL
     I bless the time
       When my good falcon made her flight across
       Thy father's ground.

PERDITA
     Now Jove afford you cause!
       To me the
difference
²⁰
forges dread. Your greatness
       Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble
       To think your father, by some
accident
²²
,
       Should pass this way as you did. O, the Fates!
       How would he look, to see his work so noble
      
Vilely bound up
²⁵
? What would he say? Or how
       Should I, in these my borrowed
flaunts
²⁶
, behold
       The
sternness
²⁷
of his presence?

FLORIZEL
    
Apprehend
²⁸
       Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
       Humbling their deities to love, have taken
       The shapes of beasts upon them:
Jupiter
       Became a bull
³¹
, and bellowed: the green
Neptune
       A ram
³²
, and bleated: and the fire-robed god,
       Golden
Apollo, a poor humble swain
³⁴
,
       As I seem now. Their transformations
       Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
       Nor
in a way
³⁷
so chaste, since my desires
      
Run not before
³⁸
mine honour, nor my lusts
       Burn hotter than my faith.

PERDITA
     O, but, sir,
       Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
       Opposed, as it must be, by th'power of the king.
       One of these two must be necessities,
       Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose,
       Or
I my life
⁴⁵
.

FLORIZEL
     Thou dearest Perdita,
       With these
forced
⁴⁷
thoughts, I prithee darken not
       The mirth o'th'feast.
Or
⁴⁸
I'll be thine, my fair,
       Or not my father's. For I cannot be
       Mine own, nor anything to any, if
       I be not thine. To this I am most constant,
      
Though
⁵²
destiny say no. Be merry, gentle.
       Strangle such thoughts as these
with anything
       That you behold the while
⁵³
. Your guests are coming:
       Lift up your countenance,
as
⁵⁵
it were the day
       Of celebration of that nuptial which
       We two have sworn shall come.

PERDITA
     O lady Fortune,
      
Stand you
⁵⁹
auspicious!

FLORIZEL
     See, your guests approach.
      
Address
⁶¹
yourself to entertain them
sprightly
,
       And let's be red with mirth.

[
Enter Shepherd, Clown, Mopsa, Dorcas and others, with Polixenes and Camillo disguised
]

SHEPHERD
     Fie, daughter! When my old wife lived, upon
       This day she was both
pantler
⁶⁴
, butler, cook,
       Both
dame
⁶⁵
and servant, welcomed all, served all,
       Would sing her song and dance her turn: now here,
       At upper end o'th'table, now i'th'middle,
      
On his
⁶⁸
shoulder, and his, her face o'fire
       With labour and the thing she took to quench it,
       She would
to each one sip
⁷⁰
. You are
retired
,
       As if you were a feasted one and not
       The hostess of the meeting. Pray you bid
       These unknown friends to's welcome, for it is
       A way to make us better friends, more known.
       Come, quench your blushes and present yourself
       That which you are, mistress o'th'feast. Come on,
       And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
       As your good flock shall prosper.

PERDITA
     Sir, welcome.
To Polixenes
       It is my father's will I should take on me
       The hostess-ship o'th'day.— You're welcome, sir.—
To Camillo
       Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.— Reverend sirs,
       For you there's
rosemary
⁸³
and
rue
. These keep
Gives flowers
      
Seeming and savour
⁸⁴
all the winter long.
       Grace and remembrance be to you both,
       And welcome to our shearing!

POLIXENES
     Shepherdess,
       A fair one are you — well you
fit
⁸⁸
our ages
       With flowers of winter.

PERDITA
     Sir,
the year growing ancient,
       Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
       Of trembling winter
⁹⁰
, the fairest flowers o'th'season
       Are our carnations and streaked
gillyvors
⁹³
,
       Which some call
nature's bastards
⁹⁴
. Of that kind
       Our rustic garden's barren, and I care not
       To get
slips
⁹⁶
of them.

POLIXENES
    
Wherefore
⁹⁷
, gentle maiden,
       Do you
neglect
⁹⁸
them?

PERDITA
    
For
⁹⁹
I have heard it said
       There is
an art which in their
piedness
shares
       With great creating nature
¹⁰⁰
.

POLIXENES
     Say there be.
       Yet nature is made better by no
mean
¹⁰³
       But nature makes that mean, so
over that art,
       Which you say adds to nature, is an art
       That nature makes
¹⁰⁴
. You see, sweet maid, we marry
       A
gentler scion
¹⁰⁷
to the wildest
stock
,
       And make conceive a bark of baser kind
       By bud of nobler
race
¹⁰⁹
. This is an art
       Which does
mend
¹¹⁰
nature, change it rather, but
       The art itself is nature.

PERDITA
     So it is.