_Clo._ Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. _Ant._ No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have 75 a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart. _Clo._ What manner of fellow was he that robbed you? _Ant._ A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with 80 troll-my-dames: I knew him once a servant of the prince: I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court. _Clo._ His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay there; 85 and yet it will no more but abide. _Aut._ Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land 90 and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus. _Clo._ Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs and bear-baitings. _Aut._ Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that 95 put me into this apparel. _Clo._ Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run. _Aut._ I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him. 100 _Clo._ How do you now? _Aut._ 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. _Clo._ Shall I bring thee on the way? 105 _Aut._ No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. _Clo._ Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing. _Aut._ Prosper you, sweet sir! [_Exit Clown._] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you 110 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! _Song._ Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a: 115 A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a. [_Exit._ LINENOTES: SCENE III.] Scena Tertia. Ff. SCENE II. Warburton. A road....] Malone. om. Ff. The country. Pope. Fields near the Shepherd's. Capell. [1] _daffodils_] Johnson. _daffadils_ Ff.