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WINTER'S TALE.

A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince,-here standing
To prate and talk for life, and honour, 'fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I stand for. I appeal

To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strain'd, to appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honour; or, in act, or will,
That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
Cry, Fie upon my grave!

Leon.
I ne'er heard yet,
That any of these bolder vices wanted
Less impudence to gainsay what they did,
Than to perform it first.

Her.
That's true enough;
Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.
Leon. You will not own it.
Her.

More than mistress of,
Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
(With whom I am accus'd,) I do confess,
I lov'd him, as in honour he requir'd;
With such a kind of love, as might become
A lady like me; with a love, even such,
So, and no other, as yourself commanded:
Which not to have done, I think, had been in me
Both disobedience and ingratitude,

To you, and toward your friend; whose love had
spoke,

Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,
I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd
For me to try how: all I know of it,
Is, that Camillo was an honest man;
And, why he left your court, the gods themselves,
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.

Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know
What you have underta'en to do in his absence.
Her. Sir,

You speak a language that I understand hot:
My life stands in the level of your dreams,
Which I'll lay down.

Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
No father owning it (which is, indeed,
More criminal in thee, than it,) so thou
Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage,
Look for no less than death.

Her.
The bug, which you would fright me with, I seek.
Sir, spare your threats:
To me can life be no commodity:

The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,
I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
But know not how it went: My second joy,
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence,
I am barr'd, like one infectious: My third com-

Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,

(1) Is within the reach.

(2) They who have done like you.

(3) Ill-starred; born under an inauspicious planet.

289

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The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murder: Myself on every post
To child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
Proclaim'd a strumpet; With immodest hatred
To women of all fashion :-Lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i'the open air, before
I have got strength of limit 4 Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die? Therefore, proceed.
But yet hear this; mistake me not;No! life,
(Which I would free,) if I shall be condemn'd
I prize it not a straw :-but for mine honour
Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else,
But what your jealousies awake; I tell you,
"Tis rigour, and not law.-Your honours all,
I do refer me to the oracle;
Apollo be my judge.

This your request
Is altogether just: therefore, bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his oracle.

[Exeunt certain Officers.
Her. The emperor of Russia was my father:
His daughter's trial! that he did but see
O, that he were alive, and here beholding
The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes
Of pity, not revenge!

Re-enter Officers with Cleomenes and Dion. Offi. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,

Been both at Delphos; and from thence have
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
brought

This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd
Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then,
You have not dar'd to break the holy seal,
Nor read the secrets in't.
Cleo. Dion.
All this we swear.
Leon. Break up the seals, and read.

blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jeal
Offi. [Reads.] Hermione is chaste, Polixenes
the king shall live without an heir, if that, which
ous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and
is lost, be not found.

Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo!
Her.

Leon. Hast thou read truth?

I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion :-
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life.-Apollo, pardon

[Exeunt Paulina and Ladies, with Her.
My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle!-
I'll reconcile me to Polixenes;

New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo;
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy :
For, being transported by my jealousies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister, to poison

My friend Polixenes; which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My swift command, though I with death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done: he, most humane,
And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest
Unclasp'd my practice; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended,1
No richer than his honour :-How he glisters
Thorough my rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker?

Paul.

Re-enter Paulina.

Wo the while!
O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it,
Break too!

1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady?
Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boiling,
In leads, or oils? what old, or newer torture
Must I receive; whose every word deserves
To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny
Together working with thy jealousies,-
Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine-O, think, what they have done,
And then run mad, indeed; stark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing;
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,
And damnable ungrateful: nor was't much,
Thou would'st have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter,
To be or none, or little; though a devil
Would have shed water out of fire,2 ere done't:
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
Of the young prince; whose honourable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender,) cleft the heart
That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: But the last,-O, lords,
When I have said, cry, wo!-the queen, the queen,
The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and ven-
geance for't

Not dropp'd down yet.
1 Lord.
The higher powers forbid!
Paul. I say, she's dead; I'll swear't: if word,
nor oath,

Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you
As I would do the gods.-But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir: therefore, betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter

[blocks in formation]

Leon.

In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.
Go on, go on :
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd
All tongues to talk their bitterest.
1 Lord.
Say no more;
Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I'the boldness of your speech.

Paul.
I am sorry for❜t;
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much
The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd
To the noble heart.-What's gone, and what's past
help,

Should be past grief: Do not receive affliction
At my petition, I beseech you; rather
Let me be punish'd, that have minded you
Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
The love I bore your queen,-lo, fool again!-
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
I'll not remember you of my own lord,
Who is lost too: Take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.

Leon.
Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth; which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me
To the dead bodies of my queen, and son:
One grave shall be for both; upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto
Our shame perpetual: Once a day I'll visit
The chapel where they lie; and tears, shed there,
Shall be my recreation: So long as
Nature will bear up with this exercise,
So long I daily vow to use it. Come,
And lead me to these sorrows.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III-Bohemia. A desert country near the sea. Enter Antigonus, with the child; and a Mariner.

Ant. Thou art perfect3 then, our ship hath touch'd upon

The deserts of Bohemia?

Mar.
Ay, my lord: and fear
We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly,
And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry,
And frown upon us.

Ant. Their sacred wills be done!-Go, get
aboard;
Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before
I call upon thee.

Mar. Make your best haste; and go not
Too far i'the land: 'tis like to be loud weather;
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
Of prey that keep upon't.
Ant.
I'll follow instantly.

Mar.

Go thou away:

I am glad at heart
To be so rid o'the business.

Ant.

[Exit. Come, poor babe:

I have heard (but not believ'd,) the spirits of the dead
May walk again if such thing be, thy mother
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another;
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill'd, and so becoming: in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach

My cabin where I lay thrice bow'd before me;
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon

(3) Well-assured.

Did this break from her: Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,-
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,

I pr'ythee, call't; for this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more-and so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself; and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do believe,
Hermione hath suffer'd death; and that
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid,
Either for life, or death, upon the earth
Of its right father.Blossom, speed thee well!
[Laying down the child.
There lie; and there thy character: there these:
[Laying down a bundle.
Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee,
pretty,
And still rest thine.The storm begins:-Poor
wretch,

That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd
To loss, and what may follow!-Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds: and most accurs'd am I,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell!
The day frowns more and more; thou art like to

have

A lullaby too rough: I never saw
The heavens so dim by day.-A savage clamour?-
Well may I get aboard! -This is the chace;
I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear.
Enter an old Shepherd.

the sky; betwixt the firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

Shep. Why, boy, how is it?

Clo. I would, you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the point: O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em : now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast; and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service,-To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said, his name was Antigonus, a nobleman:-But to make an end of the ship:-to see how the sea flap-dragoned it :-but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them;-and how the poor gentleman roar'd, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea, or weather.

Shep. 'Name of mercy, when was this, boy? Clo. Now, now; I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman; he's at it now.

Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped the old man!

Clo. I would you had been by the ship-side, to have helped her; there your charity would have lacked footing. [Aside.

Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying, I with things new born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloths for a squire's child! Look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let's see; It was told me, should be rich by the fairies: this is some changeling 6-open't: What's within, boy?

Clo. You're a made old man; if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!

Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. up with it, keep it close; home, home, the next? way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy.-Let my sheep go:Come, good boy, the next way home.

Clo. Go you the next way with your findings; I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten : they are never curst, but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it.

Shep. I would, there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty; or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.Hark you now! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen, and two-and-twenty, hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep; which, I fear, the wolf will sooner find, than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browzing on ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [Taking up the child.] Mercy on's, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy, or a child,3 Ime to the sight of him. wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one: Sure, some scape: though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this, than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hollaed but even now. Whoa, ho hoa!

Enter Clown.

Clo. Hilloa, loa!

Shep. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man?

Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea, and by land;--but I am not to say, it is a sea, for it is now

(1) The writing afterward discovered with Perdita.

Child. (3) Female infant. (4) Swallowed. (5) The mantle in which a child was carried to be baptized.

Shep. That's a good deed: If thou may'st discern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch

Clo. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i'the ground.

Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't. [Exeunt.

Time.

ACT IV.

Enter Time, as Chorus.

I,—that please some, try all; both joy,
and terror,

Of good and bad; that make, and unfold error,→→→
Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime,
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide
O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried

(6) Some child left behind by the fairies, in the room of one which they had stolen. (7) Nearest. (8) Mischievous.

Of that wide gap; since it is in my power
To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour
To plant and o'erwhelm custom: Let me pass
The same I am, ere ancient'st order was,
Or what is now receiv'd: I witness to
The times that brought them in; so shall I do
To the freshest things now reigning; and make stale
The glistening of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass; and give my scene such growing,
As you had slept be ween. Leontes leaving
The effects of his fond jealousies; so grieving,
That he shuts up himself; imagine me,2
Gentle spectators, that I now inay be
In fair Bohemia; and remember well,
I mention'd 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 wond'ring: What of her ensues,
I list not prophesy; but let Time's news
Be known, when 'tis brought forth :-a shepherd's
daughter,

And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is the arguments of Time: Of this allow,4
If ever you have spent time worse ere now;
If never yet, that Time himself doth say,
He wishes earnestly, you never may. [Exit.
SCENE I-The same. A room in the palace of
Polixenes. Enter Polixenes and Camillo.
Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more im-
portunate; '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,

with some care; so far, that I have eyes under my 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 questions with the shepherd; from whose simplicity, I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Pr'y thee, 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[Exeunt. SCENE II-The same. A road near the Shepherd's cottage. Enter Autolycus, singing. When daffodils begin to peer,

selves.

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, hey! 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-lirra chants,—

I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the peni-Are summer-songs for me and my aunts,11
tent king, my master, hath sent for me: to whose
feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'er-I
weens to think so; which is another spur to my
departure.

With, hey! with, hey! the thrush and the jay

:

have served prince Florizel, and, in my time, wore
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
three-pile ;12 but now I am out of service:

But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?
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.

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 mone 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 My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to study; and my profit therein, the heaping friend-lesser linen. My father named me, Autoly cus; ships. Of that fatal country, Sicilia, pry thee speak no more: whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st 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 saw'st thou the prince Florizel my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them, when they have approved their virtues.

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 :13 Gallows, and knock, are too powerful on the highway: beating, and hanging, are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it.-A prize! a prize!

Enter Clown.

Clo. Let me see :-Every 'leven wether-tods ;14 Cam. Sir, it is three days, since I saw the prince every tod yields-pound and odd shilling fifteen What his happier affairs may be, are to me un-hundred shorn,-What comes the wool to? known; 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

(1) i. e. Leave unexamined the progress of the intermediate time which filled up the gap in Perdita's story.

(2) Imagine for me. (3) Subject. (4) Approve. Think too highly. (6) Friendly offices. Observed at intervals. (8) Talk.

Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. [Aside.
Clo. I cannot do't without counters. 15-Let me

(9) i. e. The spring blood reigns over the parts lately under the dominion of winter. (10) Thievish. (11) Doxies. (12) Rich velvet. (13) Picking pockets. (14) Every eleven sheep will produce a tod or twenty-eight pounds of wool.

(15) Circular pieces of base metal, anciently used by the illiterate, to adjust their reckonings.

see; what I am to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? | Three pound of sugar; five pound of currants; rice- -What will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four-andtwenty nosegays for the shearers: three-man songmen! all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means2 and bases: but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have saffron, to colour the warden3 pies; mace,dates,-none; that's out of my note: nutmegs, seven; a race, or two, of ginger; but that I may beg-four pound of prunes, and as many of

raisins o'the sun.

Aut. O, that ever I was born!

[Grovelling on the ground.

Clo. I'the name of me,Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death!

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

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

Clo. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter.

Aut. I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money

Aut. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue, that put me into this apparel.

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

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

Clo. How do you now?

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

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way? Aut. No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. Clo. Then fare thee well; I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.

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

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hentR the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit.

and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable SCENE III-The same. A shepherd's cottage.

things put upon me.

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man? Aut. A foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man.

Enter Florizel and Perdita.

Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the Do give a life: no shepherdess; but Flora, garments he has left with thee; if this be a horse-Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing man's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me Is as a meeting of the petty gods, thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand. And you the queen on't. [Helping him up. Per. Sir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extremes,9 it not becomes me; O, pardon, that I name them: your high self,

Aut. O! good sir, tenderly, oh! Clo. Alas, poor soul.

Aut. O, good sir, softly, good sir: I fear, sir, The gracious mark 10 o'the land, you have obscur'd my shoulder-blade is out.

Clo. How now? canst stand?

Aut. Softly, dear sir; [Picks his pocket.] good sir, softly you ha' done me a charitable office. Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

Aut. 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 any thing I want: Offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart.

Clo. What manner of fellow was he that robbed

you?

Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames 4 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.

Clo. 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.

Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having down over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus. Clo. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs, and ber-baitings.

(1) Singers of catches in three parts.

Tenors. (3) A species of pears.

With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,
Most goddess-like prank'd up:11 But that our feasts.
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, I should blush,
To see you so attired; sworn, I think,
To show myself a glass.
Flo.
I bless the time,
When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father's ground.
Per.
Now Jove afford you cause!
To me, the difference12 forges dread; your greatness
Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I tremble
To think, your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did: O, the fates!
How would he look, to see his work, so noble,
Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how
Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
The sternness of his presence?

Flo.

Apprehend

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

(5) Sojourn. (6) Puppet-show.
(8) Take hold of (9) Excesses.

(4) The machine used in the game of pigeon-(10) Object of all men's notice.

holes.

(7) Thief.

(11) Dressed with ostentation. (12) i. e. Of station.

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