The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)

by William Shakespeare

  then he has been a monkey trainer; then a

  process server, a bailiff;

  then he acquired a puppet show about the prodigal son,

  and married a tinker's wife within a mile of my land and estate;

  and, having tried many dodgy professions, he

  took up villainy: some call him Autolycus.

  Clown

  Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts

  wakes, fairs and bear-baitings.

  Damn him! A tinker and a thief, I swear: he hangs around

  festivals, fairs and the bear baiting.

  AUTOLYCUS

  Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that

  put me into this apparel.

  Very true, sir; him, sir, him; that's the scoundrel who

  dressed me like this.

  Clown

  Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had

  but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run.

  There is no more cowardly rascal in all of Bohemia: if you had

  just stood tall and spat at him, he'd have run away.

  AUTOLYCUS

  I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am

  false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant

  him.

  I must confess to you, sir, I am not a fighter: I am

  a terrible coward in that way; and I'm sure that he knew that.

  Clown

  How do you now?

  How are you now?

  AUTOLYCUS

  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.

  Dear sir, much better than I was; I can stand and

  walk: I will now say goodbye, and walk

  gently to my kinsman's.

  Clown

  Shall I bring thee on the way?

  Do you want me to come with you?

  AUTOLYCUS

  No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.

  No, kind faced sir; no, sweet sir.

  Clown

  Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our

  sheep-shearing.

  Then goodbye: I must go and buy spices for our

  sheep shearing festival.

  AUTOLYCUS

  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!

  Sings

  Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,

  And merrily hent the stile-a:

  A merry heart goes all the day,

  Your sad tires in a mile-a.

  Exit

  May you be blessed, sweet sir!

  There's not enough in your purse to buy your spices.

  I'll come to your sheep shearing too; if I

  can't make this trick lead on to another and

  fleece those shearers, let me be struck off

  the thieves' register and my name

  be written in the book of good men!

  Jog on, jog on, along the footpath,

  and merrily jump the stile:

  a merry heart can go all day,

  the sad heart tires in a mile.

  SCENE IV. The Shepherd's cottage.

  Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA

  FLORIZEL

  These your unusual weeds to each part of you

  Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora

  Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing

  Is as a meeting of the petty gods,

  And you the queen on't.

  These unusual clothes of yours enhance

  every aspect of your beauty: not a shepherdess but the goddess Flora

  bringing in the spring. This sheep shearing of yours

  is like a meeting of the minor gods,

  with you as their queen.

  PERDITA

  Sir, my gracious lord,

  To chide at your extremes it not becomes me:

  O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self,

  The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscured

  With a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid,

  Most goddess-like prank'd up: 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, swoon, I think,

  To show myself a glass.

  Sir, my gracious lord,

  it's not my place to criticise what you do:

  excuse me for even mentioning it! You have covered

  up your great dignity, the person everyone looks up to,

  with a peasant's clothes, and I, insignificant girl,

  am got up like a goddess: if not for the fact that

  our celebrations have foolishness everywhere and

  everyone joins in with relish, I would be ashamed

  to see you dress like this, and I would faint from embarrassment

  if I saw myself in the mirror.

  FLORIZEL

  I bless the time

  When my good falcon made her flight across

  Thy father's ground.

  I bless the time

  when the wings of my fate

  brought me to your father's land.

  PERDITA

  Now Jove afford you cause!

  To me the difference forges dread; your greatness

  Hath not been used 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?

  Now may Jove give you reason to!

  The difference in our rank worries me; you're so high

  you're not used to fear. Even now I am trembling

  to think that your father, through some mischance,

  might come this way just as you did: oh, the luck!

  What would he think, if he saw his noble offspring

  dressed so shabbily? Or what would you say? And how

  would I, in this borrowed finery, cope with

  his majestic presence?

  FLORIZEL

  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-robed 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.

  Look forward

  to nothing but fun. The gods themselves

  have taken on the shapes of animals,

  humbling their divinity to find love: Jupiter

  became a bellowing bull; Neptune from the sea

  became a ram and bleated; and the fire clad god,

  Golden Apollo, became a poor humble shepherd,

  as I am now. They never changed themselves

  for such a wonderful beauty,

  and they were not as chaste, since my desires

  do not outstrip my honour, and my lusts

  are not stronger than my good faith.

  PERDITA

  O, but, sir,

  Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis

  Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the king:

  One of these two must be necessities, />
  Which then will speak, that you must

  change this purpose,

  Or I my life.

  Oh, but, sir,

  your determination will not last when it is

  opposed, as it will be, by the power of the king:

  one of these two things must happen

  then; you must forget your intentions

  or I will lose my life.

  FLORIZEL

  Thou dearest Perdita,

  With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not

  The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair,

  Or not my father's. For I cannot be

  Mine own, nor any thing to any, if

  I be not thine. To this I am most constant,

  Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle;

  Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing

  That you behold the while. Your guests are coming:

  Lift up your countenance, as it were the day

  Of celebration of that nuptial which

  We two have sworn shall come.

  You dear Perdita,

  please don't spoil the fun of the feast

  with these far-fetched thoughts: if I don't have you, my darling,

  I'll be no good to my father. I can't be

  any good to myself, or do good for anyone, if

  I'm not yours. I shall stick to this,

  whatever destiny says. Be happy, sweet one;

  push away these thoughts with all things

  you can see here. Your guests are coming:

  put on your best smile, as if it was

  the wedding day which we have both sworn

  we will come to.

  PERDITA

  O lady Fortune,

  Stand you auspicious!

  Oh Lady Fortune,

  smile on us!

  FLORIZEL

  See, your guests approach:

  Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,

  And let's be red with mirth.

  Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised

  See, your guests are coming:

  make an effort to give them a jolly welcome,

  and let's laugh until we're red in the face.

  Shepherd

  Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon

  This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,

  Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all;

  Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here,

  At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle;

  On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire

  With labour and the thing she took to quench it,

  She would to each one sip. You are retired,

  As if you were a feasted one and not

  The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid

  These unknown friends to's welcome; for it is

  A way to make us better friends, more known.

  Come, quench your blushes and present yourself

  That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on,

  And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,

  As your good flock shall prosper.

  Hello, daughter! When my old wife was alive, on

  this day she would be cellarman, butler, cook,

  both lady and servant; she welcomed everyone, served everyone;

  she would sing and dance; now here,

  at the top end of the table, now in the middle;

  leaning on his shoulder, then his; her face would be red

  with the work, and with the drink she had to cool down

  she would toast each of them. You are shy,

  as if you were a guest, and not

  the hostess of the gathering: please, give

  these friends who are strangers to us a welcome; that's

  the way to get us better acquainted.

  Come, stop blushing, and introduce yourself

  as what you are, the mistress of the feast. Come on,

  and welcome us to your sheep shearing,

  and may your good flock prosper.

  PERDITA

  [To POLIXENES] Sir, welcome:

  It is my father's will I should take on me

  The hostess-ship o' the day.

  To CAMILLO

  You're welcome, sir.

  Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs,

  For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep

  Seeming and savour all the winter long:

  Grace and remembrance be to you both,

  And welcome to our shearing!

  Sir, welcome:

  my father orders that I should be

  the hostess for today.

  You're welcome, sir.

  Dorcas, give me those flowers. Respected gentlemen,

  here is rosemary and rue for you; these keep

  their looks and scent all winter long:

  blessings and friendship to both of you,

  and welcome to our shearing!

  POLIXENES

  Shepherdess,

  A fair one are you--well you fit our ages

  With flowers of winter.

  Shepherdess -

  a lovely one you are–you've matched our ages nicely

  with the flowers of winter.

  PERDITA

  Sir, the year growing ancient,

  Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth

  Of trembling winter, the fairest

  flowers o' the season

  Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors,

  Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind

  Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not

  To get slips of them.

  Sir, the year is getting on,

  it's not yet autumn, or the start

  of chilly winter, and the loveliest

  flowers of this season

  are our carnations and multicoloured gillyflowers,

  which some call nature's bastards: we don't have

  that sort in our rustic garden, and I don't want

  to grow them.

  POLIXENES

  Wherefore, gentle maiden,

  Do you neglect them?

  Why, gentle maiden,

  don't you grow them?

  PERDITA

  For I have heard it said

  There is an art which in their piedness shares

  With great creating nature.

  Because I have heard it said

  that their multicoloured looks

  are artificially created.

  POLIXENES

  Say there be;

  Yet nature is made better by no mean

  But nature makes that mean: so, over that art

  Which you say adds to nature, is an art

  That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry

  A gentler scion to the wildest stock,

  And make conceive a bark of baser kind

  By bud of nobler race: this is an art

  Which does mend nature, change it rather, but

  The art itself is nature.

  What if they are;

  nature can only be made better

  by things she has created herself: so

  what you call artificial is in fact

  made by men, who are made by nature.

  You see, sweet maid, we graft

  a gentle nature onto the wildest plants,

  and improve the lower things

  by adding the seed of a nobler race: this is an art

  which corrects nature–or rather changes it–but

  it is still nature.

  PERDITA

  So it is.

  Yes it is.

  POLIXENES

  Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,

  And do not call them bastards.

  So fill your garden with gillyflowers,

  and do not call them bastards.

  PERDITA

  I'll not put

  The dibble in earth to se
t one slip of them;

  No more than were I painted I would wish

  This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore

  Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you;

  Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram;

  The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun

  And with him rises weeping: these are flowers

  Of middle summer, and I think they are given

  To men of middle age. You're very welcome.

  I wouldn't put

  the hoe into the earth to plant a single one of them;

  no more so than if I wore makeup and

  this youth said he liked it and only wanted

  to breed with me because of it. Here are flowers for you;

  hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram;

  the marigold, which goes to sleep with the sun

  and rises with the dew: these are the flowers

  of the middle of summer, and I think I'm giving them

  to men of middle age. You're very welcome.

  CAMILLO

  I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,

  And only live by gazing.

  If I was one of your flock I would give up grazing

  and just spend my life gazing.

  PERDITA

  Out, alas!

  You'd be so lean, that blasts of January

  Would blow you through and through.

  Now, my fair'st friend,

  I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might

  Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,

  That wear upon your virgin branches yet

  Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina,

  For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall

  From Dis's waggon! daffodils,

  That come before the swallow dares, and take

  The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,

  But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes

  Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses

  That die unmarried, ere they can behold

  Bight Phoebus in his strength--a malady