Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, Per. O but, dear sir, Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'the king: Which then will speak; that you must change this Or I my life. Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, [purpose, With these forc'd thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not Mine own, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine: to this I am most constant, That you behold the while. Your guests are coming: 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. Flo. See, your guests approach: 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, With labour; and the thing she took to quench it, Per. Welcome, sir! [To Pol. It is my father's will, I should take on me The hostess-ship o'the day :-You're welcome, sir! [To Camillo. 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 To get slips of them. Do Pol. you neglect them? Per. Wherefore, gentle maiden, There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares For I have heard it said, Say, there be; With great creating nature. Pol. 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 Per. So it is. Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers, 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, 'twere well; and only therefore Per. Out, alas! You'd be so lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through.-Now, my fairest friend, I would I had some flowers o'the spring, that might That come before the swallow dares, and take. The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, 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: In Whitsun' pastorals: sure, this robe of mine Flo. and own Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, Per. O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth, Flo. Per. I'll swear for 'em. Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does, or seems, But smacks of something greater than herself; Too noble for this place. Cam. He tells her something, That makes her blood look out: Good sooth, she is Come on, strike up. Now, in good time! Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, To mend her kissing with.— Mop. 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 he boasts himself To have a worthy feeding: but I have it Upon his own report, and I believe it; He looks like sooth: He says he loves my daughter; As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, Pol. She dances featly. Shep. So she does any thing; though I report it, Do light upon her, she shall bring him that 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: no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he has E |