Do give a life: no shepherdess; but Flora,

Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing

Is as a meeting of the petty gods,

And you the queen on't.

Per. Sir, my gracious lord,

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To chide at your extremes, it not becomes me;
Oh pardon, that I name them: your high self,
The gracious mark o'the land, you have obscur'd
With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,
Most goddess-like prank'd up. But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders.
Digest it with a custom; I should blush
To see you so attired; sworn, I think,
To shew myself a glass.

Flo. I bless the time,

When my good falcon made her flight across

Thy father's ground.

Per. Now Jove afford you cause!

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To me, the difference forges dread; your greatness

Hath not been us'd to fear.

Even now I tremble
To think, your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way, as you did: Oh, the fates!
How would he look, to see his work, so noble,
Vilely bound up! What would he say? Or how
Should I in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
The sternness of his presence!

Flo. Apprehend

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Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken

The shapes of beasts upon them. Jupiter

Became

Became 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.

Per. O, but, dear sir,

Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis

Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'the king.
One of these two must be necessities,

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Which then will speak; that you must change this purpose,

Or I my life.

Flo. Thou dearest Perdita,

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With these forc'd thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not The mirth o'the 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 constant,
Tho' destiny say, 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 it were the day

Of celebration of that nuptial, which

We two have sworn shall come.

Per. O lady fortune,

Stand you auspicious!

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Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, Servants;

with POLIXENES, and CAMILLO, disguised.

Flo. See, your guests approach:

Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
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; 279
Both dame and servant: welcom'd all, serv'd 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 retir'd,

As if you were a feasted one,

and not

The hostess of the meeting: Pray you, bid
These unknown friends to us welcome; for it is
A way to make us better friends, more known. 289
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. Sir, welcome!

[To POL. and CAM. It is my father's will, I should take on me

The hostessship o' the day: You're welcome, sir! 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

Grace and remembrance be unto you both,
And welcome to our shearing

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

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Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o'the season Are our carnations, and streak'd gilly-flowers, 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 nature, is an art
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid,

marry

A gentler scyon to the wildest stock;

And make conceive a bark of baser kind

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320

we

By bud of nobler race.

This is an art

Which does mend nature,
The art itself is nature.

Per. So it is.

change it rather; but

Pol.

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly-flowers, And do not call them bastards.

Per. I'll not put

The dibble in earth, to set one slip of them :
No more than, were I painted, I would wish

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This youth should say, 'twere well; and only there. fore

Desire to breed by me.-Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram;
The marigold, that goes to bed with 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 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 blasts of January

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Would blow you through and through. Now, my fairest friend,

I would, I had some flowers o'the spring, that might
Become your time of day; and your's, and your's,
That wear upon your virgin-branches yet
Your maiden-heads 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,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold

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