AUTOLYCUS This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one. MOPSA Let’s have some merry ones.

AUTOLYCUS Why, this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of ‘Two Maids Wooing a Man’. There’s scarce a maid westward but she sings it. ’Tis in request, I can tell you.

MOPSA We can both sing it. If thou‘lt bear a part thou shalt hear; ’tis in three parts.

DORCAS We had the tune on’t a month ago.

AUTOLYCUS I can bear my part, you must know, ’tis my occupation. Have at it with you.

CLOWN We’ll have this song out anon by ourselves. My father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we’ll not trouble them. Come, bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I’ll buy for you both. Pedlar, let’s have the first choice. Follow me, girls.

Exit with Dorcas and Mopsa

AUTOLYCUS And you shall pay well for ’em.

Enter Servant

SERVANT Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neatherds, three swineherds that have made themselves all men of hair. They call themselves saultiers, 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’th’ mind, if it be not too rough for some that know little but bowling, it will please plentifully.

OLD SHEPHERD Away. We’ll none on’t. Here has been too much homely foolery already. (To Polixenes) I know, sir, we weary you.

POLIXENES You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let’s see these four threes of herdsmen.

SERVANT One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danced before the King, and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by th’ square.

OLD SHEPHERD Leave your prating. Since these good men are pleased, let them come in—but quickly, now.

SERVANT Why, they stay at door, sir.

Here a dance of twelve satyrs

POLIXENES (to the Old Shepherd)

O, father, you’ll know more of that hereafter.

(To Camillo) Is it not too far gone? ’Tis time to part

them.

He’s simple, and tells much.

(To Florizel) 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 ransacked

The pedlar’s silken treasury, and have poured 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.

FLORIZEL

Old sir, I know

She prizes not such trifles as these are.

The gifts she looks from me are packed and locked

Up in my heart, which I have given already,

But not delivered.

(To Perdita) O, hear me breathe my life

Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,

Hath sometime loved. I take thy hand, this hand

As soft as dove’s down, and as white as it,

Or Ethiopian’s tooth, or the fanned snow that’s bolted

By th’ northern blasts twice o’er.

POLIXENES

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 you profess.

FLORIZEL

Do, and be witness to’t.

POLIXENES

And this my neighbour too?

FLORIZEL

And he, and more

Than he; and men, the earth, the heavens, and all,

That were I crowned the most imperial monarch,

Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth

That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge

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 service

Or to their own perdition.

POLIXENES

Fairly offered.

CAMILLO

This shows a sound affection.

OLD SHEPHERD

But, my daughter,

Say you the like to him?

PERDITA

I cannot speak

So well, nothing so well, no, nor mean better.

By th’ pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out

The purity of his.

OLD SHEPHERD

Take hands, a bargain;

And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to’t.

I give my daughter to him, and will make

Her portion equal his.

FLORIZEL

O, that must be

I’th’ 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.

OLD SHEPHERD

Come, your hand;

And, daughter, yours.

POLIXENES

Soft, swain, a while, beseech you.

Have you a father?

FLORIZEL I have. But what of him?

POLIXENES Knows he of this?

FLORIZEL He neither does nor shall.

POLIXENES 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 alt’ring 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?

FLORIZEL

No, good sir.

He has his health, and ampler strength indeed

Than most have of his age.

POLIXENES

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.

FLORIZEL

I yield all this;

But for some other reasons, my grave sir,