1 I be not thine: to this I am most constant, Though destiny say, no, Be merry, gentle; Of celebration of that nuptial, which We two have sworn shall come. Per. O lady fortune. Stand you auspicious! 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 liv'd, upon This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook; With labour; and the thing, she took to quench it, As your good flock shall prosper. Per. Welcome, sir! [To POL. It is my father's will, I should take on me [TO CAMILLO. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep Pol. Shepherdess, (A fair one are you,) well you fit our ages With flowers of winter. Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, Of trembling winter,-the fairest flowers o'the season 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 9 Likeness and smell.. * Because that. 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 gillyflowers, And do not call them bastards. Per. I'll not put The dibble 2 in earth to set one slip of them: This youth should say, 'twere well; and only there fore Desire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you; 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 For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall That come before the swallow dares, and take But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend, 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, 4 But quick, and in mine arms. flowers: Come, take your 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: When you do dance, I wish you A wave o'the sea, Nothing but that; that you might ever do 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, 4 Living. And the true blood, which fairly peeps through it, Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd; 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: 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; Cam. He tells her something, That makes her blood look out: Good sooth, she is of curds and cream. The queen Clo. Come on, strike up. Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlick, To mend her kissing with. Mop. Now, in good time! Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners.- Come, strike up. [Musick. 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 him self 5 Green turf. |