The Winter's Tale Read online

  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 stripes54 I have received, which are mighty ones and

  millions.

  CLOWN Alas, poor man, a million of beating may come to a

  great matter57.

  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 footman60?

  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 service64. 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 out69.

  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-dames80. 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 abide85.

  AUTOLYCUS Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well. He hath

  been since an ape-bearer87, then a process-server, a bailiff,

  then he compassed a motion88 of the prodigal son, and

  married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and

  living90 lies, and, having flown over many knavish professions,

  he settled only in rogue. Some call him Autolycus.

  CLOWN Out upon him! Prig92, for my life, prig. He haunts

  wakes93, 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 heart98 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 softly102

  towards my kinsman's.

  CLOWN Shall I bring thee on the way?

  AUTOLYCUS No, good-faced105 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 hot108 enough

  to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing

  too. If I make not this cheat110 bring out another and

  the shearers prove sheep111, let me be unrolled and my name

  put in the book of virtue!

  [Sings] song Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,

  And merrily hent114 the stile-a:

  A merry heart goes all the day,

  Your sad tires in a mile-a.

  Exit

  Act 4 Scene 4 running scene 11

  * * *

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

  FLORIZEL These your unusual weeds1 to each part of you

  Does give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora2

  Peering in April's front3. This your sheep-shearing

  Is as a meeting of the petty4 gods,

  And you the queen on't.

  PERDITA Sir, my gracious lord,

  To chide at your extremes7 it not becomes me --

  O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self,

  The gracious mark o'th'land9, you have obscured

  With a swain's wearing10, and me, poor lowly maid,

  Most goddess-like pranked up11. But that our feasts

  In every mess12 have folly and the feeders

  Digest it with a custom13, I should blush

  To see you so attired, swoon, I think,

  To show myself a glass15.

  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 difference20 forges dread. Your greatness

  Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble

  To think your father, by some accident22,

  Should pass this way as you did. O, the Fates!

  How would he look, to see his work so noble

  Vilely bound up25? What would he say? Or how

  Should I, in these my borrowed flaunts26, behold

  The sternness27 of his presence?

  FLORIZEL Apprehend28

  Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,

  Humbling their deities to love, have taken

  The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter

  Became a bull31, and bellowed: the green Neptune

  A ram32, and bleated: and the fire-robed god,

  Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain34,

  As I seem now. Their transformations

  Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,

  Nor in a way37 so chaste, since my desires

  Run not before38 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 life45.

  FLORIZEL Thou dearest Perdita,

  With these forced47 thoughts, I prithee darken not

  The mirth o'th'feast. Or48 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,

  Though52 destiny say no. Be merry, gentle.

  Strangle such thoughts as these with anything

  That you behold the while53. Your guests are coming:

  Lift up your countenance, as55 it were the day

  Of celebration of that nuptial which

  We two have sworn shall come.

  PERDITA O lady Fortune,

  Stand you59 auspicious!

  FLORIZEL See, your guests approach.

  Address61 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 pantler64, butler, cook,

  Both dame65 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 his68 shoulder, and his, her face o'f
ire

  With labour and the thing she took to quench it,

  She would to each one sip70. 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 rosemary83 and rue. These keep

  Gives flowers

  Seeming and savour84 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 fit88 our ages

  With flowers of winter.

  PERDITA Sir, the year growing ancient,

  Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth

  Of trembling winter90, the fairest flowers o'th'season

  Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors93,

  Which some call nature's bastards94. Of that kind

  Our rustic garden's barren, and I care not

  To get slips96 of them.

  POLIXENES Wherefore97, gentle maiden,

  Do you neglect98 them?

  PERDITA For99 I have heard it said

  There is an art which in their piedness shares

  With great creating nature100.

  POLIXENES Say there be.

  Yet nature is made better by no mean103

  But nature makes that mean, so over that art,

  Which you say adds to nature, is an art

  That nature makes104. You see, sweet maid, we marry

  A gentler scion107 to the wildest stock,

  And make conceive a bark of baser kind

  By bud of nobler race109. This is an art

  Which does mend110 nature, change it rather, but

  The art itself is nature.

  PERDITA So it is.

  POLIXENES Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,

  And do not call them bastards.

  PERDITA I'll not put

  The dibble116 in earth to set one slip of them.

  No more than were I painted117 I would wish

  This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore

  Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you:

  Gives flowers

  Hot120 lavender, mints, savory, marjoram,

  The marigold, that goes to bed wi'th'sun

  And with him rises weeping121. These are flowers

  Of middle summer, and I think they are given

  To men of middle age. You're very welcome.

  CAMILLO I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,

  And only live by gazing.

  PERDITA Out, alas!127

  You'd be so lean that blasts of January

  Would blow you through and through.--

  Now, my fair'st friend,

  To Florizel

  To Shepherdesses

  I would I had some flowers o'th'spring that might

  Become your time of day,-- and yours, and

  yours,

  That wear upon your virgin branches yet

  Your maidenheads134 growing.-- O Proserpina,

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

  From Dis's wagon! Daffodils,

  That come before the swallow dares137, and take

  The winds of March with beauty: violets, dim138,

  But sweeter than the lids of Juno139's eyes

  Or Cytherea140's breath: pale primroses

  That die unmarried, ere they can behold

  Bright Phoebus142 in his strength -- a malady

  Most incident to maids: bold oxlips and

  The crown imperial144: lilies of all kinds,

  The flower-de-luce145 being one. O, these I lack,

  To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend,

  To strew him o'er and o'er!

  FLORIZEL What, like a corpse?

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

  Not like a corpse. Or if150, not to be buried,

  But quick151 and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers.

  Methinks I play as I have seen them do

  In Whitsun pastorals153. Sure this robe of mine

  Does change my disposition.

  FLORIZEL What you do

  Still156 betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,

  I'd have you do it ever: when you sing,

  I'd have you buy and sell so, so give alms158,

  Pray so, and, for the ord'ring159 your affairs,

  To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you

  A wave o'th'sea, that you might ever do

  Nothing but that. Move still162, still so,

  And own no other function163. Each your doing,

  So singular164 in each particular,

  Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds165,

  That all your acts are queens.

  PERDITA O Doricles167,

  Your praises are too large. But that your youth,

  And the true169 blood which peeps fairly through't,

  Do plainly give you out170 an unstained shepherd,

  With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,

  You wooed me the false way172.

  FLORIZEL I think you have

  As little skill174 to fear as I have purpose

  To put you to't. But come, our dance, I pray.

  Your hand, my Perdita. So turtles176 pair,

  That never mean to part.

  PERDITA I'll swear for 'em.

  They stand aside

  POLIXENES This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever

  To Camillo

  Ran on the greensward180. Nothing she does or seems

  But smacks of something greater than herself,

  Too noble for this place.

  CAMILLO He tells her something

  That makes her blood look out184. Good sooth, she is

  The queen of curds and cream185.

  CLOWN Come on, strike up!

  DORCAS Mopsa must be your mistress187. Marry, garlic,

  To mend her kissing with188!

  MOPSA Now, in good time189!

  CLOWN Not a word, a word. We stand upon190 our manners.

  Come, strike up!

  Music

  Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses

  POLIXENES Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this

  Which dances with your daughter?

  SHEPHERD They call him Doricles, and boasts194 himself

  To have a worthy feeding195; but I have it

  Upon his own report and I believe it.

  He looks like sooth197. He says he loves my daughter.

  I think so too, for never gazed the moon

  Upon the water as he'll stand and read,

  As 'twere, my daughter's eyes. And to be plain,

  I think there is not half a kiss to choose

  Who loves another best.

  POLIXENES She dances featly203.

  SHEPHERD So she does anything, though I report it,

  That should be silent. If young Doricles

  Do light upon206 her, she shall bring him that

  Which he not dreams of.

  Enter Servant

  SERVANT O, master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door,

  you would never dance again after a tabor209 and pipe. No, the

  bagpipe could not move you. He sings several tunes faster

  than you'll tell211 money. He utters them as he
had eaten

  ballads212 and all men's ears grew to his tunes.

  CLOWN He could never come better213. He shall come in. I love

  a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily set

  down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.

  SERVANT He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes. No

  milliner217 can so fit his customers with gloves. He has the

  prettiest love-songs for maids, so without bawdry218, which is

  strange, with such delicate burdens219 of dildos and fadings,

  'jump her and thump her'220. And where some stretch-mouthed

  rascal would, as it were, mean mischief and break

  a foul gap into the matter221, he makes the maid to answer

  'Whoop223, do me no harm, good man', puts him off, slights

  him, with 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man'.

  POLIXENES This is a brave225 fellow.

  CLOWN Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited226

  fellow. Has he any unbraided227 wares?

  SERVANT He hath ribbons of all the colours i'th'rainbow;

  points229 more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly

  handle, though they come to him by th'gross230: inkles,

  caddisses231, cambrics, lawns. Why, he sings 'em over as they

  were gods or goddesses. You would think a smock232 were a she-angel,

  he so chants to the sleeve-hand233 and the work about

  the square234 on't.

  CLOWN Prithee bring him in, and let him approach singing.

  PERDITA Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in's

  tunes.

  Servant goes to door

  CLOWN You have238 of these pedlars, that have more in them

  than you'd think, sister.

  PERDITA Ay, good brother, or go about240 to think.

  Enter Autolycus, singing

  He wears a false beard and carries a pack

  AUTOLYCUS Lawn as white as driven snow,

  Song

  Cypress242 black as e'er was crow,

  Gloves as sweet243 as damask roses,

  Masks244 for faces and for noses,

  Bugle245 bracelet, necklace amber,

  Perfume for a lady's chamber,

  Golden quoifs247 and stomachers,

  For my lads to give their dears,

  Pins and poking-sticks249 of steel,

  What maids lack from head to heel.

  Come buy of me, come. Come buy, come buy.

  Buy lads, or else your lasses cry. Come buy!

  CLOWN If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take

  no money of me, but being enthralled254 as I am, it will also be

  the bondage255 of certain ribbons and gloves.

  MOPSA I was promised them against256 the feast, but they

  come not too late now.

  DORCAS He hath promised you more than that258, or there be

  liars.

  MOPSA He hath paid you260 all he promised you. Maybe he has

  paid you more, which will shame you to give him again261.

  CLOWN Is there no manners left among maids? Will they

  wear their plackets where they should bear their faces263? Is

  there not milking-time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole264,

  to whistle of these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling

  before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whisp'ring.

  Clamour267 your tongues, and not a word more.

  MOPSA I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace268