Oh pardon, that I name them; your high felf,
The gracious mark o'th' land, you have obfcur'd
With a fwain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,
Moft goddefs-like prank'd up. But that our feafts
In every mefs have folly, and the feeders.
Digeft it with a custom, I fhould blush,

To fee you fo attired; fworn, I think,
To fhew myself a glafsd

"

Flo. I blefs the time,

a de

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When my good falcon made her flight a-crofs
Thy father's ground.

Per. Now Jove afford you caufe!

To me the difference forges dread, your greatness
Hath not been us'd to fear; even now I tremble
To think, your father, by fome accident,
Should pafs this way, as you did: oh, the fates!
How would he look, to fee his work, fo noble,
Vilely bound up! what would he fay, or how

6The gracious mark o' th' land.] The object of all men's notice and expectation.

7

fworn, I think, To few myself a glass. i. e. One would think that in putting on this habit of a fhepherd, you had fworn to put me out of countenance; for in this, as in a glafs, you flew me how much below yourself you must defcend before you can get upon a level with me. The fentiment is fine, and expreffes all the delicacy, as well as humble modeity of the cha racter: But the Oxford Editor alters it to,

her behaviour at the King's threats, when the intrigue was difcovered. WARBURTON.

Dr. Thirlby inclines rather to Sir T. Hammer's emendation, which certainly makes an ealy fenfe, and is in my opinion preferable to the prefent reading. But concerning this paffage 1 know not what to decide.

8 His work fo noble, &c.] It is impoffible for any man to rid his mind of his profeffion. The authourfhip of Shakespeare has fupplied him with a metaphor, which rather than he would lofe it, he has put with no great propriety into the mouth of a country maid. Thinking of his own works, his mind paffed naturally to the Binder. But Perdita was not fo much gi-I am glad that he has no hint ven to faconing, as appears by at an Editor.

fwoon, I think, Tofhow myself a glass. What he means I don't know.

Should

Should I in these my borrow'd flaunts behold
The fternnefs of his prefence!

Flo. Apprehendig

Nothing but jollity: The Gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The fhapes of beats 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 fwain,

As I feem now. Their transformations:
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
Nor in a way fo chafte: fince my defires
Run not before mine honour, nor my lufts
Burn hotter than my faith.

Per. O, but, dear Sir,

Your refolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd, as it must be, by th' power o'th' King"
One of these two must be neceffities,

Which then will fpeak, that you must change this purpose,

Or I my life.

Flo. Thou deareft Perdita,

With thefe forc'd thoughts, I pr'ythee, darken not
The mirth o'th' feaft; 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 conftant,

Tho' destiny fay no. Be merry, Gentle,

Strangle fuch thoughts as thefe, with any thing

That you behold the while. Your guests are coming: Lift up your countenance, as 'twere the day

Of celebration of that nuptial, which

We two have fworn fhall come.

Per. O lady fortune,

Stand you aufpicious!

SCENE

SCENE V.

Enter Shepherd, Clown, Mopfa, Dorcas, Servants; with Polixenes and Camillo difguis'd.

Flo. See, your gueft's approach;

Addrefs yourself to entertain them fprightly,
And let's be rid with mirth.'

Shep. Fy, daughter; when my old wife liv'd, upon
This day fhe was both pantler, butler, cook,
Both dame and fervant; welcom'd all, ferv'd all;
Would fing her fong, and dance her turn; now here
At upper end o'th' table, now i'th' middle:
On his fhoulder, and his; her face o'fire
With labour; and the thing fhe took to quench it
She would to each one fip. You are retired,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hoftefs of the meeting: pray you, bid
Thefe 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'th' feaft. Come on,
And bid us welcome to your fheep-fhearing,

As your good flock fhall profper.

Per. Sirs, welcome.

[To Pol. and Cam. It is my father's will, I fhould take on me

The hoftefsfhip o'th' day; you're welcome, Sirs.

Give me thofe flowers there, Dorcas.-Reverend Sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue, these keep

Seeming and favour all the winter long:

*Grace and remembrance be unto you both, And welcome to our thearing!

Pol. Shepherdefs,

(A fair one are you,) well you fit our ages With flowers of winter.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,"

Not yet on fummer's death, nor on the birth

* Grace and remembrance-] old Gentlemen, be good, and may

1 fuppofe the means, May you, your memories be honoured.

Of

Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o'th' feafon.
Are our carnations, and streak'd gilly-flowers,
Which fome call nature's bastards; of that kind
Our ruftick garden's barren, and I care not
To get flips of them.

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,

Do you neglect them?

Per. For I have heard it faid, none

There is an art, which in their piedness shares
With great creating nature. 7

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 fee, fweet maid, we marry A gentler fcyon to the wildest stock;

And make conceive a bark of bafer 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 gilly-flowers, And do not call them baftards.

Per. I'll not put

The dibble in earth, to fet one flip of them:
No more than, were I painted, I would with

T

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

Defire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, favoury, marjoram,.
The mary-gold, that goes to bed with th' fun,
And with him rifes, weeping: these are flowers
Of middle fummer, and, I think, they are given y
To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome..
Cam. I fhould leave grazing, were I of
And only live by gazing."

Per. Out, alas

You'd be fo lean, that blafts of January

your flock,

Would

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

I would, I had fome flowers o'th' fpring, that might
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin-branches yet
Your maiden-heads growing: O Proferpina,

For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'ft fall
From Dis's waggon! daffodils,

That come before the fwallow 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 primrofes,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phœbus in his ftrength; (a malady
Moft incident to maids) gold oxlips, and
The crown-imperial; lillies of all kinds,
The flower-de-lis being one. O, thefe I lack
To make you garlands of, and, my fweet friend,
To ftrow him o'er and o'er.

Flo. What? like a coarse?

Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on; Not like a coarfe; or if,not to be buried... But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers; Methinks, I play as I have feen them do

In whitfun paftorals: fure, this robe of mine.
Does change my difpofition.

Flo. What you do,

Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
I'd have you do it ever; when you fing,

I'd have you buy and fell for fo,, give alms;
Pray, fo; and for the ord'ring your affairs,

To fing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o'th' fea, that you might ever done.

9

violets dim,'

But fweiter than the lids of Juno's eyes, I fufpect that our author mistakes Juno for Pallas, who was the goddess of blue eyes. Sweeter than an eye

lid is an odd image: but perhaps he ufes feet in the general fenie, for delightful.

Gold is the reading of Sir T. Hanmer; the former editions have told.

Nothing