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Nor in a way so chaste: fince

my

defires Run not before mine honour, nor my lufts Burn hotter than my faith.

Per. O, but, dear Sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Opposd, as it must be, by th' power o'th'King.
One of these two must be necessities,
Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose,
Or I
my

life.
Flo. Thou deareft Perdita,
With these forc'd thoughts, I prythee, darken not
The mirth o’th' feast; or I'll be thine, my fair,
Or not my father's. For I cannot be
Mine own, nor any thing to any, if
I be not thine. To this I am most confânt,
Tho' destiny fay no. Be merry, (Gentle)
Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing
That you behold the while. Your guests are coming:
Lift up your countenance,' as 'twere the day
Of celebration of that nuptial, which
We two have sworn shall come.

Per. O lady Fortune,
Stand you auspicious !
Enter Shepherd; Clown, Mopfa, Dorcas, Servants; and

Polixenes and Camillo disguis'd.
Flo. See, your guests approach ;
Address yourself to entertain them fprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Fy, daughter; when my old wife liv'd, upon
This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,
Both dame and fervant; welcom'd all, serv'd all;
Would fing her song, and dance her turn; now here
At upper end o'th'table, now i'th' 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 feafted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting : pray you, bid
These unknown friends to’s welcome, for it is

А

Come on,

fit our ages

A way to make us better friends, more known.
Come, quench your blushes, and present yourself
That which you are, mistress o'th' feat.
And bid us welcome to your sheep-fhearing,
As your good flock shall prosper.
Per. Sirs, welcome.

[T. Pol. and Cam.
It is my father's will, I should take on me
The hostessship o'th' day; you're welcome, Sirs.
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend Sirs,
For you there's rosemary and rue, these keep
Seeming and savour 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
With flowers of winter.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the faireft flowers o'th' feason
Are our carnations, and streak'd gilly-flowers,
Which some call Nature's bastards : of that kind
Our ruftick garden's barren, and I care not
To get Nips of them.

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

Per. For I have heard it said,
There is an art, which in their pideness Phares
With great creating Nature.

Pol. Say, there be;
Yer Nature is made better by no mean,
But Nature makes that mean; so over that art,
Which, you say, adds to Nature, is an art
That Nature makes ; you see, sweet maid, we marry
A gentler fcyon to the wildeft ftock;
And make conceive a bark of baser kind
By hud of nobler race. This is an art,
Which does mend Nature, change it rather; bat
The art itself is Nature,

Per. So it is.
Pol. Then make your garden sich in gilly-flowers,

And

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yours, and

And do not call them bastards,

Per. l'll not put The dibble in earth, to set one slip of them : No more than, were I painted, I would wish This youth Mould say, 'twere well; and only therefore Desire to breed by me.- Here's flowers for you ; Hot lavender, mints, favoury, marjoram, The mary-gold, that goes to bed with th' fun, And with him rises, weeping : these are flowers Of middle-summer, and, I think, they are given To men of middle-age. Y'are very welcome.

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

Per. Out, alas !
You'd be so lean, that blafts of January [friend,
Would blow you through and through. Now, my faireft
I would, I had some flowers o'th' spring, that might
Become your time of day ; and

yours,
That wear upon your virgin-branches yet
Your maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,
For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'ft fall
From Dis's waggon! daffadils,
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,
Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phælus in his strength ; (a malady:
Moft incident to maids ;) bold oxlips, and
The crown-imperial ; lillies of all kinds,
The flower-de-lis being one. O, these I lack
To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend,
To ftrow him o'er and o'er.

Flo. What? like a coarse ?

Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on ; Nor like a coarse; 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 Whitsun paftorals : sure, this robe of mine Does change my difpofition.

Flo

*F'o. 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; fo, give alms;
Pray, so; and for the ord’ring your affairs,

To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o'th' fea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move ftill, ftill so,
And own no other function. Eack 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 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; fo 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-ford; nothing she does, or feems,
But smacks of something greater than herself,
Too noble for this place.

Cam. He tells her something (26),
.
(26)

He tells her fomer bing, That makes ber blood look on't.] Thus all the old editions cor. ruptedly. I dare say, I have reitor'd the true reading; and the meaning must be this. The Prince tells her something, that calls the blood. up into ber cheeks, and makes ber blush. She, but a little before, uses a like expresion to describe the Prince's fincerity, which appear’d in the honest blood rising on his face.

Your praises are too large; but that your youth
And i be true blood, wbicb peens forih fairly through it,

Do plainly give you out an unftein'd mepherd. I corrected ine above passage, when I publith'd my SHAKESPEARE reffor’d: and Mr. Pope in his last impreffion has thought fit to embrace the correction,

That

That makes her blood look out: good footh, she is.
The Queen of curds and cream.
Clo. Come on,

strike

up. Dor. Mopja must be your mistress; marry, garlick to mend her kiffing with.

Mop. Now, in good time!

Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manness ; come, ftrike

up
Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdefjes.
Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this
Who 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 footh; he says, he loves my daughter,
I think fo too ; for never gaz'd the moon
Upon the water, as he'll fand and read
As 'twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
I think, there is not half a kiss to chuse
Who loves another beft.

Pol. She dances featly.

Shep. So she does any thing, though I report it
That should be filent; if young Doricles
Do light upon her, she fall 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 tabor and
pipe : no, the bag-pipe could not move you; he fings
feveral tunes, faster than you'll tell money; he utters
them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grew
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 macter merrily set down ; or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably.

Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all fizes ; no milliner can fo fit bis customers with gloves : he

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