Lift up your countenance, as it were the day Of celebration of that nuptial which We two have sworn shall come. Per. O lady Fortune, See, your guests approach: Stand you auspicious! Flo. Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth. Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised. Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served 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 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 present yourself That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on, And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, As your good flock shall prosper. Per. [to Pol.] Sir, welcome : It is my father's will I should take on me You're welcome, sir. [to Cam.] Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long : Pol. Shepherdess, A fair one are you, well you fit our ages Per. ancient, Sir, the year growing Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, 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. 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, over that art Which you say adds to That nature makes. we marry nature, is an art You see, sweet maid, A gentler scion to the wildest stock, By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; No more than were I painted I would wish This youth should say 't were well, and only therefore Desire to breed by me. you; Here's flowers for Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age. You're very welcome. Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing. Per. Out, alas! You'ld be so lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st 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 To make you garlands of; and my sweet friend, To strew him o'er and o'er! Flo. What, like a corse? |