Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, 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 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; To sing them too: When you do dance, I wish you 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 youth, 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. 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, That makes her blood look out: Good sooth, she is The queen of curds and cream. Clown. Come on, strike up. Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, gar lick, To mend her kissing with. Мор. Now, in good time! Clown. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. -- 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 himself To have a worthy feeding: but I have it Upon his own report, and I believe it; He looks like sooth: He says, he loves my daugh ter; I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon As 'twere, my daughter's eyes; and, to be plain, I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, Who loves another best. Pol. She dances featly. Shep. So she does any thing; though I report it, That should be silent: if young Doricles Do light upon her, she shall bring him that Enter a Servant. Ser. O master, if you did but hear the pedler at the door, you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings several tunes, faster than you'll tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grew to his tunes. Clown. He could never come better: he shall come in: I love a ballad but even too well; if it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably. Ser. He hath songs, for man, or woman, of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burdens of dildo's and fadings: jump her and thump her; and where some stretch-mouth'd rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer, Whoop, do me no harm, good man; puts him off, slights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, good man. Pol. This is a brave fellow. Clown. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirableconceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares? Ser. He hath ribands of all the colours i'the rainbow; points, more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross; inkles, caddisses, cambricks, lawns: why, he sings them over, 'as they were gods or goddesses; you would think, a smock were a she-angel; he so chants to the sleeve-hand, and the work about the square on't. Clown. Pr'ythee, bring him in; and let him approach singing. Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous words in his tunes. Clown. You have of these pedlers, that have more in 'em than you'd think, sister. Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think. Enter Autolycus, singing. Lawn, as white as driven snow; What maids lack from head to heel: Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; Come, buy, &c. Clown. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou should'st take no money of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribands and gloves. Mop. I was promised them against the feast; but they come not too late now. Dor. He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars. Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you: may be, he has paid you more; which will shame you to give him again. Clown. Is there no manners left among maids? will they wear their plackets, where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off these secrets; but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispering: Clamour your tongues, and not a word more. Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry lace, and a pair of sweet gloves. Clown. Have I not told thee, how I was cozen'd by the way, and lost all my money? Aut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary. Clown. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here. Aut. I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge. Clown. What hast here? ballads? Mop. Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print, a'-life; for then we are sure they are true. Aut. Here's one, to a very doleful tune, How |
