Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing
That you behold the while. Your guests are coming:
Lift up your countenance, as 't were the day

Of celebration of that nuptial, which

We two have sworn shall come.

Per.

Stand you auspicious!

O, lady fortune,

Enter Shepherd, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO, disguised; Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others. See, your guests approach:

Flo.

Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv'd, upon This day she was both pantler, butler, cook;

Both dame and servant; welcom'd all; serv'd all;
Would sing her song, and dance her turn; now here,
At upper end o' the table, now, i' the middle;
On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire
With labour, and the thing she took to quench it,
She would to each one sip. You are retir'd,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid
These unknown friends to 's welcome; for it is
A way to make us better friends, more known.
Come; quench your blushes, and present yourself
That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on,
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,

As your good flock shall prosper.

Per.

[To PoL.] Sir, welcome. It is my father's will, I should take on me

The hostess-ship o' the day:-[To CAM.] You 're wel

come, sir.

Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend sirs,
For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep
Seeming and savour all the winter long :

Grace, and remembrance, be to you both,
And welcome to our shearing!

Pol.
Shepherdess,
(A fair one are you) well you fit our ages
With flowers of winter.

Per.

Sir, the year growing ancient,

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth

Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season

Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers'
Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind
Our rustic garden 's barren, and I care not

To get slips of them.

Pol.

Do you neglect them?

Per.

Wherefore, gentle maiden,

For I have heard it said,

There is an art which, in their piedness, shares
With great creating nature.

Pol.

Say, there be;

Yet nature is made better by no mean,

But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art,

Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art

That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock,

And make conceive a bark of baser kind

By bud of nobler race: this is an art

Which does mend nature,-change it rather; but
The art itself is nature.

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly-flowers, And do not call them bastards.

Per.

I'll not put

The dibble in earth to set one slip of them:

No more than, were I painted, I would wish

This youth should say, 't were well, and only therefore Desire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you;

Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ;

The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun,
And with him rises weeping: these are flowers
Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given
To men of middle age. You are very welcome.
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
And only live by gazing.

Per.

Out, alas!

You'd be so lean, that blasts of January

Would blow you through and through.-Now, my fair'st friend,

I would, I had some flowers o' the spring, that might
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet,
Your maidenheads growing:-0 Proserpina!
For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall

From Dis's waggon! daffodils,

That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried ere they can behold
Bright Phœbus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one. O! these I lack,
To make you garlands of, and, my sweet friend,
To strew him o'er and o'er.

Flo.

What! like a corse?

Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on,

Not like a corse; or if,-not to be buried,

But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers. Methinks, I play as I have seen them do

In Whitsun-pastorals: sure, this robe of mine

Does change my disposition.

Flo.

What you do

Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
I'd have you do it ever: when you sing,

I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,

To sing them too.

A wave o' the sea,

When you do dance, I wish you that you might ever do

Nothing but that; move still, still so,

And own no other function: each your doing,
So singular in each particular,

Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.

Per.

O Doricles!

Your praises are too large: but that your youth,
And the true blood, which peeps so fairly through it,
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd,
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,

You woo'd me the false way.

Flo.

I think, you have

As little skill to fear, as I have purpose

To put you to 't.-But, come; our dance, I pray.
Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,

That never mean to part.

Per.

I'll swear for 'em.

1 Reason.

Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does, or says1, But smacks of something greater than herself;

Too noble for this place.

Cam.

He tells her something,

That wakes her blood:-look on 't. Good sooth, she is The queen of curds and cream.

Clo.

Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlick,

To mend her kissing with.

Mop.

Come on, strike up.

Now, in good time

Clo. Not a word, a word: we stand upon our man

ners.

Come, strike up.

[Music.

[Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses. Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this, Which dances with your daughter?

Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himself To have a worthy breeding; but I have it

Upon his own report, and I believe it:

He looks like sooth. He says, he loves my daughter : I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon

Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read,

As 't were, my daughter's eyes; and, to be plain,
I think, there is not half a kiss to choose,

Who loves another best.

Pol.

She dances featly.

Shep. So she does any thing, though I report it,
That should be silent. If young Doricles

Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreams of.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. O master! if you did but hear the pedler 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.

Clo. He could never come better: he shall come in. I love a ballad but even too well; if it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably.

Serv. He hath songs, for man, or woman, of all sizes:

1 seems: in f. e. 2 That makes her blood look on 't: in f. e.

no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves. He has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burdens of "dildos" and "fadings';' ""jump her and thump her;" and where some stretch'd-mouth'd rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul jape in the matter, he makes the maid to answer, "Whoop, do me no harm, good man;" puts him off, slights him with "Whoop, do me no harm, good man."

Pol. This is a brave fellow.

Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable-conceited fellow. Has he any embroided' wares?

4

5

Serv. He hath ribands of all the colours i' the rainbow; points, more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle though they come to him by the gross; inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why he sings them over, as they were gods or goddesses. You would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants to the sleeve-band', and the work about the squares on 't. Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in, and let him approach singing.

Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous words in's tunes.

Clo. You have of these pedlers, that have more in them than you'd think, sister.

Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.

Enter AUTOLYCUs, singing.
Lawn, as white as driven snow;
Cyprus, black as e'er was crow;
Gloves, as sweet as damask roses;
Masks for faces, and for noses;
Bugle-bracelet, necklace amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber:
Golden quoifs, and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears;
Pins and poking-sticks' of steel,
What maids lack from head to heel:
Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry:
Come, buy.

1A fading was also a dance. 2 Jest. f. e.

gap.

3 unbraided:

in f. e. 4 Tags to the strings used to fasten dresses. 5 Tape. 6 Galloon. 7 sleeve-hand: in f. e. 8 Bosom. 9 Used, when heated, to set

the plaits of ruffs.

VOL. III.-32