Will you buy any tape, Any toys for your head, Of the new'st, and finʼst, fin'st wear-a? Come to the pedler; Money's a medler, That doth utter all men's wear-a. [Exe. Clown, AUT. DOR. and Mor. Enter a Servant. Ser. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair;8 they call themselves saltiers and they have a dance, which the wenches say is a gally-maufry 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. Ser. 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 the squire. 9 Shep. Leave your prating; since these good men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now." Ser. 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.Is it not too far gone?-'Tis time to part them. [8] Men of hair, are hairy men, or satyrs. A dance of satyrs was no unusual entertainment in the middle ages. At a great festival celebrated in France, the king and some of the nobles personated satyrs dressed in close habits, tufted or shagged all over, to imitate hair. They began a wild dance, and in the tumult of their merriment one of them went too near a candle and set fire to his satyr's garb, the flame ran instantly over the loose tufts, and spread itself to the dress of those that were next him; a great number of the dancers were cruelly scorched, being neither able to throw off their coats nor extinguish them. The king had set himself in the lap of the duchess of Burgundy, who threw her robe over him and saved him. JOHNSON. [9] i. e. by the foot-rule. Esquierre, Fr. MALONE. 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, To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd 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 Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand; this hand, Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow, That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er. How prettily the young swain seems to wash The hand, was fair before !-I have put you out :- What you profess. Flo. 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 : Commend them, and condemn them, to her service, Pol. Fairly offer'd. Cam. This shows a sound affection. Shep. But, my daughter, Say you the like to him? Per. I cannot speak So well, nothing so well: no, nor mean better: Shep. Take hands, a bargain ; And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't : Flo. O, that must be I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, Shep. Come, your hand, And, daughter, your's. Pol. Soft, swain, a while, '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. No, good sir; He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, Pol. 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 Flo. I yield all this ; But, for some other reasons, my grave sir, Pol. Let him know't. Flc. He shall not. Pol. Pr'ythee, let him. Flo. No, he must not. Shep. Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice. Flo. Come, come, he must not : Mark our contract. Pol. Mark your divorce, young sir, [Discovering himself. Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base Shorten thy life one week.-And thou, fresh piece Shep. O, my heart! Pol.I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briars, and made That thou no more shalt see this knack (as never Far than Deucalion off. Mark thou my words; Per. Even here undone ! [Exit. I was not much afeard; for once, or twice, [1] I think for far than we should read far as. We will not hold thee of our kin ven so far off as Deucalion the common ancestor of all. JOHNS. [2] The character is here finely sustained. To have made her quite astonished at the king's discovery of himself, had not become her birth; and to have given her presence of mind to have made this reply to the king, had not become her education. WARB. I told you, what would come of this. 'Beseech you, Cam. Why, how now, father? Speak, ere thou diest. Shep. I cannot speak, nor think, Nor dare to know that which I know.-O, sir, [To FLO. You have undone a man of fourscore three, 3 That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea, To die upon the bed my father died, To lie close by his honest bones but now Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me [To PERDITA. That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st adventure To mingle faith with him. Undone undone ! If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd Flo. Why look you so upon me? I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd, But nothing alter'd: What I was, I am : [Exit. More straining on, for plucking back; not following Cam. Gracious my lord, You know your father's temper: at this time Flo. I not purpose it. I think, Camillo. Cam. Even he, my lord. Per. How often have I told you, 'twould be thus ? How often said, my dignity would last But till 'twere known? Flo. It cannot fail, but by The violation of my faith; And then Let nature crush the sides o'the earth together, [3] These sentiments, which the poet has heightened by a strain of ridicule that runs through them, admirably characterize the speaker; whose selfishness is seen in concealing the adventure of Perdita; and here supported, by showing no regard for his son or her, but being taken up entirely with himself, though fourscore three.. WARB. 28* VOL. III. |