Shepherd's Son

Shepherd
I would there were no age between ten and
three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the
rest, for there is nothing in the between but getting
wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing,
fighting—Hark you now. Would any but these
boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt
this weather? They have scared away two of my best
sheep,
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Servant
O, master, if you did but hear the peddler at
the door, you would never dance again after a tabor
and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you. He
sings several tunes faster than you’ll tell money. He
utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men’s
ears grew to his tunes.
Shepherd’s Son
He could never come better.
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Autolycus
This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty
one.
Mopsa
Let’s have some merry ones.
Autolycus
Why, this is a passing merry one and goes
to the tune of —Two Maids Wooing a Man. There’s
scarce a maid westward but she sings it. ‘Tis in
request, I can tell you.
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Autolycus
Though I am not naturally honest,
I am so sometimes by chance. Let me pocket up my
peddler’s excrement.

He removes his false beard.

How now, rustics, whither are you bound?
Shepherd
To th’ palace, an it like your Worship.
Autolycus
Your affairs there? What,
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