Clo. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.

Aut. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue, that put me into this apparel.

Clo. Not a inore cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but looked big, and spit at him, he'd have run.

Aut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him.

Clo. How do you now?

Aut. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand, and walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's. Člo. Shall I bring thee on the way?

Aut. No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. Clo. Then fare thee well; I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.

Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir!-[Exit Clown.] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my name put in the book of virtue!

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,

Your sad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit.

SCENE III. The same. A Shepherd's Cottage.

Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA.

Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part

of you

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, To chide at your extremes, it not becomes me; O, 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 show 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! To me, the difference forges dread; your great

ness

Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble To think, your father, by some accident,

Should pass this way, as you did: O, 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 Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter 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
Opposed, as it must be, by the power o' the king:
One of these two must be necessities,

Which then will speak; that you must change
Or I my life.
[this purpose,
Thou dearest Perdita,

Flo.

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, 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.

Per.

Stand you auspicious!

O lady fortune,

Enter Shepherd, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO,
disguised; Clown, MOPSA, 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 your-

self

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. Welcome, sir! [To POL. It is my father's will, I should take on me The hostess-ship o' the day:-You're welcome, [To CAMILLO. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend

sir!

sirs,

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!

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 Of trembling winter,-the fairest flowers o' the

season

Are our carnations, and streak'd gilliflowers,
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?

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, 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

By bud of nobler race; This is an art

Which does mend nature,-change it rather: but The art itself is nature.

Per.

So it is.

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilli

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
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 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.

Ont, 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:-0 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
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.

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.

Flo.

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 ordering 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.
Per.

O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youthf, And the true blood, which fairly peeps through it, Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd;