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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. Fye, daughter! when my old wife liy'd,

upon This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook; Boih dame and seryant: welcom'd all; sery'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 us 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-shcaring, As your good flock shall prosper. Per. Welcome, Sir!

[ To POL. It is my father's will, I should take on me The hosiessship 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 lon;
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 vinter.

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Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, ņor on the birib Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o'the

scason

Are our cariations, and streak'd gillyflowers,
Which some call, nature's bastards; of that kind
Our rustick garden's barren; and I care not
To get slips of them.

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Do you neglect them?

Per. For I have lieard it said,
There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares
Whit great creating nature.

Pol. Say, there be;
Yet naiure is made better by no mean,
But nature makes that mean; so, o'er that art,
Which, you say, adds to natnre, is an art,
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marty
A gentler scion to the wildest stock;
And make conceive a Lark 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.

Per. So it is.

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillgflowers, And do not call sliem bastards,

Per. I'll not put The dibble in earıh to set one slip of them; No more than, were painted, I would wish This youth should say, 'tvere well; and only therefore Desire to breed by nie. Here's Powers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, And with him rises wecping; these are flowers Of middle sumnjer, and, I think, they are given To men of middle age; You are very welcome.

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Cam. I should leave grazing, were l 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 fairest 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: O 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 Phoebus in his strength, a palady Most incident to inaid: ; bold oxlips, and The crown;imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one! 0, 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. Na, 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 belters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
I'd have yon do it ever: when you sing,
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
Pray 50; and, for the ordering your affairs,

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To sing them too: When yon do dance, I wish you
A wave o'the sea, 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 fairly peeps through it,
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd;
Wiih 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.

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 The Queen of curds and cream.

Clown. Come oil, strike
Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress : marry, garlick,
To mend her kissing with.

Mop. Now, in good time!
Clown. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our

up

maniers.

Come, strike up.

[Musick. Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses. Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what

Fair swain is this, which dances with your daugh.

ter? Shep. They call him Doricles; and be boasts

himself To havo 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; I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, As 'twere, 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 labor and pipe: no, the bagpipe could not move you:-he sings several tunes, faster than you'll tell money; he utter's them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's eara grew to his tunes.

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

Seru. He hath songs, for man, or woman, of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is s range; with such deli. cate. burdens of dildo's and frdings: jump her and thump her; and where some streich-mouth'd rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul

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