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I be not thine: to this I am most constant,
Though 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.

O lady fortune.
Stand you auspicious!

Enter Shepherd, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO, disguised; Clown, MopsĂ, DORCAS, and Others, Flo.

See, your guests approach: Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth. Shep. Fye, 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: 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. 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.

our ages


Welcome, sir! [To Pol. It is my

father's will, I should take on me The hostesship o'the day :-You're welcome, sir!

[To CAMILLO. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend sirs, For you

there's rosemary, and rue; these keep
Seeming, and savour,9 all the winter long :
Grace, and remembrance, be to you both,
And welcome to our shearing!

Shepherdess, (A fair one are you,) well you

fit 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, Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind Our rustick garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them. Pol.

Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Do you neglect them?

For! I have heard it said,
There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares
With great creating nature.

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

9 Likeness and smell.

I Because that.

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By bud of nobler race; This is an art
Which does mend nature, change it rather : but
The art itself is nature.

So it is.
Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers,
And do not call them bastards.

I'll not put
The dibble 2 in earth to set one slip of them :
No more than, were I painted, I would wish
This youth should say, 'twere well; and only there-

Desire to breed by me.--Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, savory, 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.

Out, alas!
You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
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 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's3 waggon! daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim

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But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phæbus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack,
To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend,
To strew him o'er and o'er.

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. 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.

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;
Pray so; and, for the orderjng your affairs,
To sing them too: When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o’the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own
No other function: Each your doing,
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.

O Doricles,
Your praises are too large: but that your youth,

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4 Living.

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.

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.

I'll swear for 'em.
Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever
Ran on the green-sward:5 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. Clo.

Come on, strike up. Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlick, To mend her kissing with. Mop. .

Now, in good time! Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our


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 him.


s Green turf.

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