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Most goddess-like prank'd up: but that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, I shou'd blush
To see you so attired; sworn, I think,
To shew myself a glass.

Flor. I bless the time,

When my good faulcon made her flight across
Thy father's ground.

Perd. Now Jove afford you cause!
To ine the difference forges dread: your greatness
Hath not been us'd to fear; ev'n now I tremble
To think your father, by some accident,
Shou'd pass this way, as you did: O the fates!
How wou'd he look, to see his work, so noble,
Vilely bound up! What wou'd he say! or how
Shou'd I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
The sterness of his presence?

Flor. Apprehend,

Nothing but jollity: the Gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The shapes of beasts upon 'em
Jupiter
Become a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune
A ram, and bleated; and the fire rob'd God,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
As I seem now their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires
Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.

Perd Oh, but dear Sir,

Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'th' king:
One of these two must be necessities,

Which then will speak, that thou must change this purpose:
Or I my life.

Flor. Thou dearest Perdita;

With these forc'd thoughts, I prithee, darken not
The mirth o' th' feast; or I'll be thine my fair,
Or not any father's; for I cannot be
Mine own, nor any thing to any, if
I be not thine. To this, I am most constant,
'Tho' destiny say, no. Be merry, gentlest,
Strangle fuch thoughts as these, with any thing

That

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.

Perd. O lady fortune,

Stand thou auspicious!

Enter OLD SHEPHERD, CLOWN, MOPSA, DORCAS; with

POLIXENES, CAMILLO, and servants.

CA MILLO, disguised.

POLIXENES, and

Flor. See your guests approach;
Address yourself to entertain 'em sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Old Shep. Fie, daughter, when my old wife liv'd, upon
This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook,
Both dame and servant; welcom'd all, serv'd all;
Wou'd sing 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 wou'd to each one sip: you are retir'd,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid
These unknown friend's 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'th' feast: come on,
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
As your good flock shall prosper.

Perd. Sir's welcome.

It is my father's will, I'shou'd take on me

The hostess-ship o' th' day; vou're welcome, sirs.
Give me these 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,

[To Polixenes and Camillo..

And welcome to our shearing.

Polir. Shepherdess,

With flowers of winter.

A fair one are you; well you fit our ages

Perd. Here are flowers for you;

Hot lavendar, mint, savoury, marjoram,

L6

[To others.

Polix,

9 Vol. 1

The mary-gold, that goes to bed with the sun,
And with him rises weeping: these are flowers
Of middle summer; and I think are given
To men of middle age You're very welcome

Cam. I shou'd leave grazing were I of your flock,

And only live by gazing.

Perd. Out alas !

You'd be so clean, that blasts of January,

Wou'd blow you thro' and thro' now my fairest friend,
I wou'd I had some flowers o' th' spring, that might
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin-branches, yet
Your maiden honours growing, daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares; and take
The winds of March with beauty; vi'lets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phœbus in his strength; gold oxlips and
The crown imperial; lillies of all kinds

The flower-de-lis being one; o' these I lack

To make your garland of, and my sweet friend,

To Florizel.

To strow him o'er and o'er.

Flor. What? like a coarse ?

Perd. [apart to Florizek.] No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on.

Not like a coarse-come, come, take your flowers

Methinks, I play, as I have seen them do

In Whitsun pastorals: sure. this robe of mine

Does change my disposition.

Flor. 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; give alms;

Pray, so; and for the ordering your affairs,

To sing them to. When you do dance, I wish you

A wave o' th' sea, and you might ever do

Nothing but that; niove still, still so,

And own no other function. Each your doing,

So singular in each particular,

Crowns what you're doing in the present deeds,

That all your acts are queens,

Perd

Perd. O Doricles,

Your praises are too large; but that your youth
And the true blood, which peeps forth fairly thro it,
Do plainly give you out an unstained shepherd;

With wisdom, I might fear, my Doricles,

You woo'd me the false way.

Flor, 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.

Perd. I'll swear for 'em.

Old Sbep. Come, come, daughter, leave for a while these private dalliances, and love-whisperings, clear up your pipes

and call, as custom is; our neighbours to our shearing.

Perd. I will obey you.

SONG.

I.

Come, come, my good shepherds, our flocks we must sbear,

In your boly-day suits, with your lasses appear;

The bappiest of folk, are the giltless and free

And who are so giltless so bappy as we?

11.

We barbour no passions, by luxury taught,
We practise no arts, with bypocrisy fraught;

What we think in our bearts, you may readin our eyes ;

For knowing no falsbood, we need no disguise,

III.

By mode and caprice are the city dames led,
But we, as the children of nature are bred ;

By ber band alone, we are painted and dress'd

For the roses will bloom, when there's peace in the breast.

IV.

That giant, ambition we never can dread;

Our roofs are too low, for so lofty a bead;

Content and sweet-cbearfulness open our door,

They smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.

V.

When love bas posses'd us, but love we reveal :

Like the flocks that we feed, are the passions we feel;

So

So harmless and simple we sport, and we play,
And leave to fine folks to deceive andbetray.

Polix. This is the prettiest low born lass that ever
Ran on the green-ford; 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 our dance-strike up.

Dorc. Mopsa must be our mistress, marry, buy some garlick to mend her kissing with.

Mops. Now, in good time, musk, will not mend thine. Dorc. Thou art a false man; did'st not thou swear, (it was but yesternight in the tallet, over the dove house) how that at your shearing, you wou'd this day shaane Mopsa,

and

not a word-we

Clown. Hold ye, maidens, hold ye stand upon our manners here, come strike up.

Mops. Here's to do; marry I'll swear he promis'd me long enough afore that in the hay-field-by the token, our curate, came by, and whereof all our folk were gone further a field; he advis'd us to get up, and go home quickly, for that the dew fell apace and the ground was dank, and unhealsome; more nor that, you promis'd me gloves, and ribbands, and knacks at the fair, and more nor that

Clown. Not a word; not a word more, wenches. Dorc. Marry, come up! others have had promises, as well as some;-but I have heard old folks in the parish say, that some folks have been proud and courtly, and falshearted ever since some folks father found a pot of money by the sea-side here. But I say nothing. Clown. Come, come' strike up.

A Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.

Polix. I pray good shepherd, what fair swain is this,

Old Shep. They call him Doricles; and he boasts himself

Who dances with your daughter.

To have a worthy breeding; but I have it.

Upon his own report, and I believe it:

He looks like sooth; he says, he loves my daughter;

I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon

Upon

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