Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble Flo. Apprehend Per. O but, dear sirt, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'the king: 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 Vilely bound up?] It is impossible for any man to rid his mind of his profession. The authorship of Shakspeare has supplied him with a metaphor, which, rather than he would lose it, he has put with no great propriety into the mouth of a country maid. Thinking of his own works, his mind passed naturally to the binder. I am glad that he has no hint at an editor. JOHNSON. "O but, sir,"-MALONE. 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; 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: song, On his shoulder, and his : her face o' fire With labour; and the thing, she took to quench it, 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, sir! [To CAMILLO. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. ― Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep 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 Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, For I have1 heard it said, Do you neglect them? Per. 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 Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers, And do not call them bastards. Per. I'll not put The dibble2 in earth to set one slip of them: 2 For I have-] For, in this place, signifies — because that. 2 dibble - An instrument used by gardeners to make holes in the earth for the reception of young plants. |