POLIXENES.
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 question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son’s resort thither. Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.
CAMILLO.
I willingly obey your command.
POLIXENES.
My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The same. A Road near the Shepherd’s cottage.
Enter Autolycus, singing.
AUTOLYCUS.
When daffodils begin to peer,
With, hey! 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,
With, hey! with, hey! the thrush and the jay,
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
I have served Prince Florizel, and in my time wore three-pile, but now I am out of service.