Grace, and remembrance, be to you both, 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 birta Of trembling winter,-the fairest flowers o' the season Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind Our rustic garden 's barren; and I care not To get slips of them. Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, Do you neglect them? Per. Fort I have heard it said, There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares 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 Per. So it is. 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, '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 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 I.e. they are not wholly natural, but owe their streaks to the gar dener's art. From Dis's waggon! daffodils,' That come before the swallow dares, and take Flo. What? like a corse? Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on; But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers: 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: When you do dance, I wish you So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, Per. O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth, Flo. I think, you have As little skillt to fear, as I have purpose To put you to't.-But, come; our dance, I pray : 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. Clo. Come on, strike up. * Living. † Reason. + Green turf. Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, To mend her kissing with.- Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. Come, strike up. [Music. Here a dance of SHEPHERDS and SHEPHERDESSES. Fair swain is this, which dances with your daughter? Upon his own report, and I believe it; He looks like sooth: He says, he loves my daughter; Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and to be plain, Who loves another best. Pol. She dances featly. Shep. So she does anything; 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 pedlar 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 their 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 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-mouth'd rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap 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 unbraided wares ?S 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,|| cadisses, T 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-hand,** and all the work about the square on't.tt * Pasturage. Plain goods. **The cuffs. + Truth. I Worsted galloon. †† The work about the bosom. Neatly. Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in; and let him approach singing. Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous words in his tunes. Clo. You have of these pedlers, that have more in 'em than you'd think, sister. Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think. Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing. Lawn, as white as driven snow; What maids lack from head to heel: Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy ; Come, buy, &c. Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribands and gloves. Mop. I was promised them against the feast; but they come not too late now. Dor. He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars. Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has paid you more; which will shame you to give him again. Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? will they wear their placketst where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole,‡ to whistle off these secrets; but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? "Tis well they are whispering: Clam your tongues,§ and not a word more. Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry lace,|| and a pair of sweet gloves. Clo. Have I told thee how I was cozened by the way, and lost all my money? Aut. And, indeed, Sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary. Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here. Aut. I hope so, Sír; for I have about me many parcels of charge. Clo. What hast here? ballads? Mop. Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print, a'-life; for then we are sure they are true. *Steel ruff stiffeners. + Special pockets. Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden; and how she longed to eat adders' heads, and toads carbonadoed. Mop. Is it true, think you? Aut. Very true; and but a month old. Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer! Aut. Here's the midwife's name to't, one mistress Taleporter and five or six honest wives that were present: Why should Ỉ carry lies abroad? Mop. 'Pray you now, buy it. Clo. Come on, lay it by: And let's first see more ballads; we'll buy the other things anon. Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish that appeared upon the coast, on Wednesday, the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: It was thought she was a woman, and was turned into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her: The ballad is very pitiful, and as true. Dor. Is it true too, think you? Aut. Five justices' hands at it; and witnesses, more than my pack will hold. Clo. Lay it by too: Another. Aut. This is a merry ballad; but a very pretty one. Mop. Let's have some merry ones. Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of, Two maids wooing a man: there's scarce a maid westward, but she sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you. Mop. We can both sing it; if thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts. Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago. Aut. I can bear my part; you must know, 'tis my occupation: have at it with you. SONG. A. Get you hence, for I must go ; Where, it fits not you to know. D. Whither? M. O, whither? D. Whither? M. It becomes thy oath full well, Thou to me thy secrets tell : D. Me too, let me go thither. M. Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill : D. If to either, thou dost ill. A. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Neither. D. Thou hast sworn my love to be; M. Thou hast sworn it more to me: Then, whither go'st? say, whither? Clo. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves; My father and the gentleman are in sad* talk, and we'll not trouble them: Come, bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both:-Pedler, let's have the first choice.-Follow me, girls. Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. * Serious. [Aside. |