That he shuts up himself, imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now may

be

In fair Bohemia; and remember well,

I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel
I now name to you; and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wondering: what of her ensues
I list not prophesy; but let Time's news

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Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's
daughter,

And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is the argument of Time. Of this allow,

If ever you have spent time worse ere now;
If never, yet that Time himself doth say
He wishes earnestly you never may.

Scene II.

Bohemia. The palace of Polixenes.
Enter Polixenes and Camillo.

30

[Exit.

Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: 'tis a sickness denying thee any thing; a death to grant this.

Cam. It is fifteen years since I saw my country:

though I have for the most part been aired
abroad, I desire to lay my bones there.
Besides, the penitent king, my master, hath
sent for me; to whose feeling sorrows I might
be some allay, or I o'erween to think so, which
is another spur to my departure.
Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the

rest of thy services by leaving me now: the
need I have of thee, thine own goodness hath
made; better not to have had thee than thus
to want thee: thou, having made me businesses,
which none without thee can sufficiently manage,
must either stay to execute them thyself, or take
away with thee the very services thou hast done;
which if I have not enough considered, as too
much I cannot, to be more thankful to thee shall
be my study; and my profit therein, the heaping
friendships. Of that fatal country, Sicilia,
prithee speak no more; whose very naming
punishes me with the remembrance of that peni-
tent, as thou callest him, and reconciled king,
my brother; whose loss of his most precious
queen and children are even now to be afresh
lamented. Say to me, when sawest thou the
Prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less

unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than 30 they are in losing them when they have approved their virtues.

Cam. Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince.

What his happier affairs may be, are to me
unknown: but I have missingly noted, he is of
late much retired from court and is less frequent
to his princely exercises than formerly he hath
appeared.

Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo, and with
some care; so far, that I have eyes under my 40
service which look upon his removedness; from
whom I have this intelligence, that he is seldom
from the house of a most homely shepherd; a
man, they say, that from very nothing, and
beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is
grown into an unspeakable estate.

Cam. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a
daughter of most rare note: the report of her
is extended more than can be thought to begin
from such a cottage.
Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence; but,
I fear, the angle that plucks our son thither.
Thou shalt accompany us to the place; where
we will, not appearing what we are, have some

50

question with the shepherd; from whose sim-
plicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause
of my son's resort thither. Prithee, be my
present partner in this business, and lay aside
the thoughts of Sicilia.

Cam. I willingly obey your command.

Pol. My best Camillo ! We must disguise our

бо

selves.

[Exeunt.

Scene III.

A road near the Shepherd's cottage.

Enter Autolycus, singing.

When daffodils begin to peer,

With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,

With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;

For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

The lark, that tirra-lyra chants,

With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts,

While we lie tumbling in the hay.

I have served Prince Florizel and in my time wore three-pile; but now I am out of service:

dear?

But shall I go mourn for that, my
The pale moon shines by night:
And when I wander here and there,
I then do most go right.

If tinkers may have leave to live,
And bear the sow-skin budget,
Then my account I well may give,
And in the stocks avouch it.

My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is the silly cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway: beat

II

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