The dibble in earth to set one slip of them:
No more than, were I painted, I would wish
This youth should say, 't were 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.

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.-O Proserpina,
For the flowers now that, frighted, thou lett'st fall
From Dis's wagon!-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.

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.
O Doricles,

Per.

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

daughter;

I think so too; for never gazed the moon
Upon the water, as he 'll stand and read,
As 't were, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
I think there is not half a kiss to choose
Who loves another best.

Shep. So she does anything; though I report it That should be silent. If young Doricles Do light upon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreams of.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. O master, if you did but hear the pedlar 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.

Clo. 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.

66

Serv. 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 66 dildos" and fadings;" "jump her" and "thump her :" and where some stretch-mouthed 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.

Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirableconceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares? Serv. 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, cambrics, 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 sleevehand, and the work about the square on 't.

Clo. Pr'y thee, bring him in; and let him approach singing.

Per. Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in his tunes.

Clo. You have of these pedlars 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;
Cyprus black as e'er was crow;
Gloves as sweet as damask roses;
Masks for faces and for noses;
Bugle bracelet, necklace-amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber:
Golden quoifs, and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears;
Pins, and poking-sticks of steel;
What maids lack from head to heel.

Come, buy of me, come: come buy, come buy;
Buy lads, or else your lasses cry.
Come, buy, &c.

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me; but being enthralled 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;

a tawdry lace and a pair of sweet gloves. Clo. Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way, and lost all my money?

Aut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary. Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.

Aut. I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge.

Clo. 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 a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden; and how she longed to eat adders' heads and toads carbonadoed. Mop. Is it true, think you?

Aut. Very true; and but a month old.
Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer!

Aut. Here's the midwife's name to 't, one Mistress Taleporter; and five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad? Mop. 'Pray you now, buy it.

Clo. Come on, lay it by. And let's first see more ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.

Aut. Here's another ballad,—Of a fish that appeared upon the coast, on Wednesday, the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a woman, and was turned into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her. The ballad is very pitiful, and as true. Dor. Is it true too, think you?

Aut. Five justices' hands at it; and witnesses more than my pack will hold.

Clo. Lay it by too. Another.

Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty

one.

Mop. Let's have some merry ones.

Aut. Why, this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of "Two maids wooing a man:" there's scarce a maid westward but she sings it; 't is in request, I can tell you.

Mop. We can both sing it; if thou 'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; 't is in three parts.

Dor. We had the tune on 't a month ago.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neatherds, three swineherds, that have made themselves all men of hair; they call themselves saltiers; and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not in 't; but they themselves are o' the mind (if it be not too rough for some that know little but bowling) it will please plentifully.

Shep. Away! we 'll none on 't; here has been too much humble foolery already.-I know, sir, we weary you.

Pol. You weary those that refresh us: pray let's see these four threes of herdsmen.

Serv. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squire.

Shep. Leave your prating: since these good men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly

She prizes not such trifles as these are:

The gifts she looks from me are packed and locked

Up in my heart; which I have given already,
But not delivered.-0, hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
Hath sometime loved. I take thy hand; this hand,
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it;
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fanned snow
That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er.
Pol. What follows this?-

How prettily the young swain seems to wash

The hand was fair before!-I have put you out:
But to your protestation; let me hear
What you profess.

Flo.

Do, and be witness to 't. Pol. And this my neighbour, too? Flo. And he, and more

Than he, and men; the earth, the heavens, and all:

That, were I crowned the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve; had force and knowledge

More than was ever man's, I would not prize them

Without her love for her, employ them all; Commend them, and condemn them, to her service,

Or to their own perdition.

Pol.

Fairly offered.

Cam. This shews a sound affection.
Shep. But, my daughter,

Say you the like to him?

Pol. Methinks a father

Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest

That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more.
Is not your father grown incapable

Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid
With

age and altering rheums? Can he speak ;
hear;

Know man from man; dispute his own estate? Lies he not bed-rid, and again does nothing, But what he did being childish?