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Per. O lady fortune, Stand you aufpicious!


Enter Shepherd, Clown, Mopfa, Dorcas, Servants; with Polixenes and Camillo difguis'd.

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 fervant: welcom'd all; ferv'd all :
Would fing her fong, and dance her turn; now here
At upper end o'th' table; now i'th' middle;
On his fhoulder, and his; her face o' fire
With labour; and the things she took to quench it
She would to each one fip. You are retired,
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 prefent yourself
That which you are, mistress o'th' feaft: come on,
And bid us welcome to your sheepfhearing,
As your good flock fhall profper.

Per. Sirs, you're welcome.

It is my father's will, I fhould take on me
The hostessship o'th' day: you're welcome, firs.
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend firs,
For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep
Seeming and favour all the winter long:
Grace and remembrance be unto you both,
And welcome to our shearing!

Pol. Shepherdefs,
A fair one are you, well you

[to Pol. and Cam.

fit our ages

With flowers of winter.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,

Nor yet on fummer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o'th' season
Are our carnations, and ftreak'd gillyflowers,
Which fome call nature's baftards: of that kind
Our ruftick garden's barren; and I care not
To get flips of them.

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

Per. For I have heard it faid,

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

That nature makes. You fee, fweet maid, we marry

A gentler scion to the wildest stock,

And make conceive a bark of bafer 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 gillyflowers, And do not call them baftards.

Per. I'll not put

The dibble in earth, to fet one flip of them:
No more than were I painted, I would wish
This youth fhould fay, 'twere well; and only therefore
Defire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, favoury, marjoram,
The marigold, that goes to bed with th' fun,
And with him rifes weeping: these are flowers
Of middle fummer, and, I think, they are given
To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome.


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Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
And only live by gazing.
Per. Out, alas !

You'd be fo lean, that blasts of january
Would blow you through and through. Now, fairest friend,
I would I had fome flowers o'th' fpring, that might
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing. O Proferpina,
For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'ft fall
From Dis's wagon! early daffodils,

That come before the fwallow 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 ftrength, a malady
Moft incident to maids; gold 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 fweet friend
To ftrow him o'er and o'er.

Flo. What, like a corfe?

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

Not like a corfe: 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 whitsund' pastorals: sure, this robe of mine
Does change my difpofition,

Flo. What you do,

Still betters what is done. When you speak, fweet,
I'd have you do it ever; when you fing,

I'd have you buy and fell fo; fo give alms;
Pray fo; and for the ord'ring your affairs,
To fing them too: when you do dance, I wish you
A wave o’th’sea, that you might ever do

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Nothing but that; move ftill, ftill fo,
And own no other function. Each your doing,
So fingular in each particular,

Crowns what you're 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 forth fairly through it,
Do plainly give you out an unftain'd shepherd,
With wifdom I might fear, my Doricles,
You woo'd me the falfe way.

Flo. I think, you have

As little skill in fear, as I have purpose

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

That never mean to part.

Per. I'll fwear for 'em.

Pol. This is the prettieft low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-fword; nothing she does, or seems, But smacks of something greater than herself,

Too noble for this place.

Cam. He tells her fomething

That makes her blood look out: good footh, she is
The queen of curds and cream.

Clo. Come on, strike up.
Dor. Mopfa must be your
To mend her kiffing with.
Mop. Now, in good time.

Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners: come, ftrike up.

mistress; marry, garlick

Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdeffes.

Pol. I pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this Who dances with your daughter?

Shep. They call him Doricles; and he boafts himself To have a worthy breeding: but I have it




Upon his own report, and I believe it;

He looks like footh: he fays, he loves my daughter,
I think fo too; for never gaz'd the moon

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

As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
I think, there is not half a kifs to choose

Which loves the other best.

Pol. She dances featly.

Shep. So fhe does any thing; though I report it
That should be filent: if young Doricles
Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreams of


Enter a Servant.

Ser. O, master, if you did but hear the pedler at the door, you would never dance again after a tabour and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he fings feveral tunes fafter than you'll tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grow to his tunes.

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

Ser. He hath fongs for man or woman of all fizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he has the prettieft lovesongs for maids, fo without bawdry, (which is ftrange) with such delicate burdens of dil-do's and fa-ding's: jump her and thump her: and where fome ftretch-mouth'd rafcal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer, Whoop! do me no harm, good man; puts him off, flights him, with Whoop! do me no harm, good man. Pol. This is a brave fellow.

Clo. Believe me, thou talkeft of an admirable-conceited fellow : has he any unbraided wares?

Ser. He hath ribands of all the colours i'th' rainbow; points,


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