we'll not trouble them: Come, bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both:-Pedler, let's have the first choice.-Follow me, girls. Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.

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,

[Aside.

Of the new'st, and fin'st, fin'st wear-a?
Come to the pedler;

Money's a medler,

That doth utter" all men's ware-a.

[Exeunt Clown, AUTOLYCUS, DOrcas, and MOPSA.

Enter a Servant.

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

Shep. Away! we'll none on't; here has been too much humble foolery already:-I know, sir, we weary you.

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

Serv. One three of them, by their own report,

"That doth utter -] To utter. To vend by retail.

all men of hair;] Men of hair, are hairy men, or satyrs, A dance of satyrs was no unusual entertainment in the middle ages.

9

they call themselves saltiers:] He means Satyrs.

gallimaufry -] A confused heap of things together.

sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squire.

Shep. Leave your prating: since these good men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now. Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir.

[Exit.

Re-enter Servant, with Twelve Rusticks, habited like Satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt.

Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.3

Is it not too far gone?-'Tis time to part them.— He's simple, and tells much. [Aside.]-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 ran

sack'd

The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance; you have let him go,
And nothing marted with him: If your lass
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.

Flo.

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,

2

by the squire.] i. e. by the foot-rule. Esquierre, Fr. 3 Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.] This is an answer to something which the Shepherd is supposed to have said to Polixenes during the dance.

But not deliver'd.-O, hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir, who, 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 the northern blasts twice o'er.
Pol. 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

Flo.

you profess.

Do, and be witness to't.

Pol. And this my neighbour too? Flo. 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 know

ledge,

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 ser

So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better:
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.

Shep.

Take hands, a bargain;And, friends unknown you shall bear witness to't:

5

or the fann'd snow,

That's bolted, &c.] The fine sieve used by millers to separate. flower from bran is called a bolting cloth.

I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.

Flo.
O, that must be
I'the 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.

Shep.

And, daughter, yours.

Pol.

Come, your hand;

Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you;

Have you a father?

Flo.

I have: But what of him?

Pol. Knows he of this?
Flo.

He neither does, nor shall.

Pol. 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 altering 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?

Flo.
He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed,

Than most have of his age.

Pol.

No, good sir

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.

dispute his own estate?] Perhaps for dispute we might read compute: but dispute his estate may be the same with talk over his affairs. JOHNSON.

Flo.

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.

Pol.

Let him know't.

Flo. He shall not.

Pol.

Pr'ythee, let him.

Flo.

No, he must not.

Shep. Let him, my son; he shall not need to

Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base
To be acknowledg'd: Thou a scepter's heir,
That thus affect'st 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 ;-

Shep.
O, my heart!
Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briars,

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,
Far 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, enchant

ment,

Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too,