The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 3 of 9]Shakespeare, William
General
The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 3 of 9]
Shakespeare, William
English drama
_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. 155
_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 160
The queen of curds and cream.
_Clo._ Come on, strike up!
_Dor._ Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic,
To mend her kissing with!
_Mop._ Now, in good time!
_Clo._ Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners.
Come, strike up! 165
[_Music. 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 boasts himself
To have a worthy feeding: but I have it
Upon his own report and I believe it; 170
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 175
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
Which he not dreams of. 180
_Enter_ 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. 185
_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.
_Serv._ He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes; 190
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 burthens 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 195
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.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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