I have barely known but one
Autolycus in my life,
other than him who Shakespeare sung, then dubbed in prose:
My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is the silly cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway: beating and hanging are terrors to me: for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it.
The Winter’s Tale Act 4, Scene 3: https://shakespeare.mit.edu/winters_tale/winters_tale.4.3.html
To me he sang:
__________________
People say I live in tatters
Of truth on torso slim.
Snapping up where I can
Men, beasts or other
Unconsidered trifles:
Some femme thing even
That my appearance swells,
As they hang upon my word, or sword:
Some short time, my packet fill.
What hurt I cause to them: put it as nought:
Whilst they fail knowing how easy they're bought.
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