Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend sirs, For you there's there's rosemary, and rue; thèse keep 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 birth Of trembling winter,-the fairest flowers o'the season Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers, 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 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 in earth to set one slip of them: Desire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you; Per. Out, alas! You'd be so lean, that blasts of January I would, I had some flowers o'the spring, that might That come before the swallow dares, and take Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, 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, 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 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; 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, 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; With 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 on, strike up. Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, gar lick, To mend her kissing with. Мор. Now, in good time! Clown. 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 himself To have a worthy feeding: but I have it Upon his own report, and I believe it; · He looks like sooth: He says, he loves my daugh ter; I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon 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. Enter a Servant. Ser. O master, if you did but hear the pedler 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 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, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably. Ser. 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 dildo's 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 into the matter, he makes the maid to answer, Whoop, do me no harm, good man; puts him off, slights him, with hoop, do me no harm, good man. Pol. This is a brave fellow. |