_Flo._ See, your guests approach: Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth. _Enter_ Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, _and others_, _with_ POLIXENES _and_ CAMILLO _disguised_. _Shep._ Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon 55 This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all; Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here, At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire 60 With labour and the thing she took to quench it, She would to each one sip. You are retired, As if you were a feasted one and not The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid These unknown friends to's welcome; for it is 65 A way to make us better friends, more known. Come, quench your blushes and present yourself That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on, And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, As your good flock shall prosper. _Per._ [_To Pol._] Sir, welcome: 70 It is my father's will I should take on me The hostess-ship o' the day. [_To Cam._] 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: 75 Grace and remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our shearing! _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 80 Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them. _Pol._ Wherefore, gentle maiden, 85 Do you neglect them? _Per._ For I have heard it said 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, over that art 90 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 95 Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature. _Per._ So it is. _Pol._ Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, And do not call them bastards.