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CAMILLO:
Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from
thee: yet for the outside of thy poverty we must
make an exchange; therefore discase thee instantly,
--thou must think there's a necessity in't,--and
change garments with this gentleman: though the
pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee,
there's some boot.
AUTOLYCUS:
I am a poor fellow, sir.
I know ye well enough.
CAMILLO:
Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half
flayed already.
AUTOLYCUS:
Are you in earnest, sir?
I smell the trick on't.
FLORIZEL:
Dispatch, I prithee.
AUTOLYCUS:
Indeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with
conscience take it.
CAMILLO:
Unbuckle, unbuckle.
Fortunate mistress,--let my prophecy
Come home to ye!--you must retire yourself
Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat
And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your face,
Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken
The truth of your own seeming; that you may--
For I do fear eyes over--to shipboard
Get undescried.
PERDITA:
I see the play so lies
That I must bear a part.
CAMILLO:
No remedy.
Have you done there?
FLORIZEL:
Should I now meet my father,
He would not call me son.
CAMILLO:
Nay, you shall have no hat.
Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend.
AUTOLYCUS:
Adieu, sir.
FLORIZEL:
O Perdita, what have we twain forgot!
Pray you, a word.
CAMILLO:
FLORIZEL:
Fortune speed us!
Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.
CAMILLO:
The swifter speed the better.
AUTOLYCUS:
I understand the business, I hear it: to have an
open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is
necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite
also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see
this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive.
What an exchange had this been without boot! What
a boot is here with this exchange! Sure the gods do
this year connive at us, and we may do any thing
extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of
iniquity, stealing away from his father with his
clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of
honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not
do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it;
and therein am I constant to my profession.
Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain:
every lane's end, every shop, church, session,
hanging, yields a careful man work.
Clown:
See, see; what a man you are now!
There is no other way but to tell the king
she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood.
Shepherd:
Nay, but hear me.
Clown:
Nay, but hear me.