Peering in April's front. This, your sheep-shearing, Is as a meeting of the petty gods,

And you the queen on't.

Sir, my gracious lord,

Per.
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 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. 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?

Apprehend

Flo.
Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter

8

no shepherdess, but Flora

Peering in April's front.] So in "Pandosto:"-" Which attire became her so gallantly, as shee seemed to be the goddesse Flora her selfe for beauty." Shakespeare's Library, Part i. p. 29.

1

Digest IT-] The necessary word it was inserted in the second folio.

sworn, I think,

To show myself a glass.] She means to say, (Malone remarks,) that the prince, by the rustic habit that he wears, seems as if he had sworn to show her a glass, in which she might behold how she ought to be attired, instead of being 66 most goddess-like prank'd up."

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, sir,

Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis

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

Which then will speak-that you must change this

purpose,

Or I my life.

Flo.

Thou dearest Perdita,

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.
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. 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;
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 '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.

[To POL.] Sir, welcome'.

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.-Reverend 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!

Shepherdess,

Pol. (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 gillyflowers3,

2

Sir, welcome.] So the folios: "Welcome, sir!" Malone; who assigns no reason for the transposition. He probably thought it improved the measure, and that on this account he was entitled to take a liberty with the text. Shakespeare was a better judge of verse than Malone.

3—

- and streak'd GILLYFLOWERS,] Pronounced of old gillyvors, and so spelt in the folios, both here, when the word is spoken by Perdita, and afterwards by Polixenes. Steevens would make out "some farther conceit" respecting gillyflowers, and would derive the word "gill-flirt" from a corruption of gilly-flower, but there seems no sufficient ground for the supposition.

Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind

Our rustic garden's barren, and I care not

There is an art which, in their piedness, shares
With great creating nature1.

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.

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

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 are very welcome.
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
And only live by gazing.

4

For I have heard it said,

There is an art which, in their piedness, shares

With great creating nature.] i. e. "There is an art," says T. Warton, which can produce flowers with as great a variety of colours as nature herself.” Steevens denies the existence of the art.

You'd 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:-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

5

that, frighted, thou let'st fall

From Dis's waggon!] See Ovid. Metam. lib. v.

VOL. III.

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