Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised.

Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon

This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,

Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served 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 retired,
As if you were a feasted one and not
The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid
These unknown friends 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' the feast: come
on,

And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,

As your good flock shall prosper.

Per.

60

[To Pol.] Sir, welcome :

70

It is my father's will I should take on me

The hostess-ship o' the day. [To Cam.] You're

welcome, sir.

Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.

sirs,

56. pantler, pantry-maid (or man).

Reverend

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

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

Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors,

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

Wherefore, gentle maiden,

For I have heard it said

There is an art which in their piedness shares

With great creating nature.

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, we

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 gillyvors, 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
This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore
Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ;
The marigold, that goes to bed wi' 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're very welcome.
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your
flock,

And only live by gazing.

Per.

Out, alas!

You'ld be so lean, that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through. Now,

my fair'st 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,

100. dibble, a pointed instrument for making holes.

104. Hot, aromatic.

105. that goes to bed wi' the

sun.

The marigold or sunflower was called the Sponsus solis, 'because it slept and awakened

with the sun.'

100

ΣΙΟ

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
Bright Phoebus 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 !

Flo.

120

What, like a corse? Per. No, like a bank for love to lie and play on; 130 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
Does change my disposition.

Flo.

Still betters what is done.

sweet,

What you do

When you speak,

I'ld have you do it ever when you sing,
I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms,
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,

118. Dis's waggon, Pluto's chariot.

120. dim, of subdued, unobtrusive colour.

126. crown imperial, the Fritillaria imperialis, or fritillary. It had been introduced into England from Constantinople, and was highly prized for its 'stately beautifulness.'

127. flower-de-luce, a kind of iris; elsewhere (as by Spenser) often called the flower Delice (flos deliciarum).

134. Whitsun pastorals, plays performed at Whitsuntide. Cf. Two Gentlemen, iv. 4., where Julia feigns to have played 'at Pentecost. . . a lamentable part'

-'twas Ariadne passioning for Theseus' perjury.'

To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you 140
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 deed,
That all your acts are queens.

O Doricles,

Per.
Your praises are too large but that your youth,
And the true blood which peepeth fairly through 't,
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

150

That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is 160

The queen of curds and cream.

Clo.

Come on, strike up!

Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry,

garlic,

To mend her kissing with!

Мор.

144. singular, unique. 146. queens, each unique and supreme in its kind.

147. large, unreserved.

152. skill, reason.

Now, in good time!

160. out, Theobald's emendation for F, on 't.

163. in good time, used ironically, like Fr. à la bonne heure. Cf. Tam. of Shrew, ii. 1. 96.