William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (519 page)
Read William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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PERDITA (to
Polixenes)
Sir, welcome.
Polixenes)
Sir, welcome.
It is my father’s will I should take on me
The hostess-ship o’th’ day.
(
To Camillo
) 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.
The hostess-ship o’th’ day.
(
To Camillo
) 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.
POLIXENES
Shepherdess,
A fair one are you. Well you fit our ages
With flowers of winter.
With flowers of winter.
PERDITA
Sir, the year growing ancient,
Not yet on summer’s death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o’th’ season
Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors,
Which some call nature’s bastards. Of that kind
Our rustic garden’s barren, and I care not
To get slips of them.
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o’th’ season
Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors,
Which some call nature’s bastards. Of that kind
Our rustic garden’s barren, and I care not
To get slips of them.
POLIXENES
Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Do you neglect them?
PERDITA
For I have heard it said
There is an art which in their piedness shares
With great creating nature.
With great creating nature.
POLIXENES
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 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.
But nature makes that mean. So over 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.
PERDITA
So it is.
POLIXENES
Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,
And do not call them bastards.
And do not call them bastards.
PERDITA
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’th’ sun,
And with him rises, weeping. These are flowers
Of middle summer, and I think they are given
To men of middle age. You’re very welcome.
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’th’ sun,
And with him rises, weeping. These are flowers
Of middle summer, and I think they are given
To men of middle age. You’re very welcome.
She gives them flowers
CAMILLO
I should leave grazing were I of your flock,
And only live by gazing.
And only live by gazing.
PERDITA
Out, alas,
You’d be so lean that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through.
(
To Florizel
) Now, my fair‘st friend,
I would I had some flowers o’th’ spring that might
Become your time of day; (
to Mopsa and Dorcas
) and
yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina,
For the flowers now that, frighted, thou letst 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.
Would blow you through and through.
(
To Florizel
) Now, my fair‘st friend,
I would I had some flowers o’th’ spring that might
Become your time of day; (
to Mopsa and Dorcas
) and
yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina,
For the flowers now that, frighted, thou letst 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.
FLORIZEL
What, like a corpse?
PERDITA
No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on,
Not like a corpse—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.
Not like a corpse—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.
FLORIZEL
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 ord‘ring your affairs,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o’th’ 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.
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 ord‘ring your affairs,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o’th’ 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.
PERDITA
O Doricles,
Your praises are too large. But that your youth
And the true blood which peeps so fairly through’t
Do plainly give you out an unstained shepherd,
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
You wooed me the false way.
And the true blood which peeps so fairly through’t
Do plainly give you out an unstained shepherd,
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
You wooed me the false way.
FLORIZEL
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.
To put you to’t. But come, our dance, I pray;
Your hand, my Perdita. So turtles pair,
That never mean to part.
PERDITA
I’ll swear for ’em.
POLIXENES (
to Camillo
)
to Camillo
)
This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever
Ran on the greensward. Nothing she does or seems
But smacks of something greater than herself,
Too noble for this place.
Ran on the greensward. Nothing she does or seems
But smacks of something greater than herself,
Too noble for this place.
CAMILLO
He tells her something
That makes her blood look out. Good sooth, she is
The queen of curds and cream.
The queen of curds and cream.
CLOWN Come on, strike up!
DORCAS Mopsa must be your mistress. Marry, garlic to mend her kissing with!
MOPSA Now, in good time!
CLOWN Not a word, a word, we stand upon our manners.
Come, strike up!
Music. Here a dance of shepherds and shepherdesses
POLIXENES
Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this
Which dances with your daughter?
Which dances with your daughter?
OLD SHEPHERD
They call him Doricles, and 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 ’twere, my daughter’s eyes; and to be plain,
I think there is not half a kiss to choose
Who loves another best.
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 ’twere, my daughter’s eyes; and to be plain,
I think there is not half a kiss to choose
Who loves another best.
POLIXENES
She dances featly.
OLD SHEPHERD
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.
That should be silent. If young Doricles
Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreams of.
Enter a Servant
SERVANT 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.
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.
SERVANT 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 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!’
POLIXENES This is a brave fellow.
CLOWN Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares?
SERVANT He hath ribbons of all the colours i‘th’ rainbow; points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by th’ gross; inkles, caddises, cambrics, lawns—why, he sings ’em 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 Prithee bring him in, and let him approach singing.
PERDITA Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in’s tunes.
Exit Servant
CLOWN You have of these pedlars that have more in them than you’d think, sister.
PERDITA Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
Enter Autolycus, wearing a false beard, carrying his pack, and singing
AUTOLYCUS
Lawn as white as driven snow,
Cypress 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 coifs, 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!
CLOWN 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 ribbons and gloves.
MOPSA I was promised them against the feast, but they come not too late now.
DORCAS He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.
MOPSA He hath paid you all he promised you. Maybe 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 of these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? ’Tis well they are whispering. Clammer your tongues, and not a word more.
MOPSA 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 cozened by the way, and lost all my money?
AUTOLYCUS And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad, therefore it behoves men to be wary.
CLOWN Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.
AUTOLYCUS I hope so, sir, for I have about me many parcels of charge.
CLOWN What hast here? Ballads?
MOPSA Pray now, buy some. I love a ballad in print, alife, for then we are sure they are true.
AUTOLYCUS 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.
MOPSA Is it true, think you?
AUTOLYCUS Very true, and but a month old.
DORCAS Bless me from marrying a usurer!
AUTOLYCUS Here’s the midwife’s name to’t, one Mistress Tail-Porter, and five or six honest wives’ that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad?
MOPSA (
to Clown
) Pray you now, buy it.
to Clown
) Pray you now, buy it.
CLOWN Come on, lay it by, and let’s first see more ballads. We’ll buy the other things anon.
AUTOLYCUS 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.
DORCAS Is it true too, think you?
AUTOLYCUS Five justices’ hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack will hold.
CLOWN Lay it by, too. Another.
AUTOLYCUS This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one. MOPSA Let’s have some merry ones.
AUTOLYCUS 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. ’Tis in request, I can tell you.
MOPSA We can both sing it. If thou‘lt bear a part thou shalt hear; ’tis in three parts.
DORCAS We had the tune on’t a month ago.
AUTOLYCUS I can bear my part, you must know, ’tis my occupation. Have at it with you.
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