The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (729 page)

You see, sweet maid, we graft

a gentle nature onto the wildest plants,

and improve the lower things

by adding the seed of a nobler race: this is an art

which corrects nature–or rather changes it–but

it is still nature.

PERDITA

So it is.

Yes it is.

POLIXENES

Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,

And do not call them bastards.

So fill your garden with gillyflowers,

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, savoury, marjoram;

The marigold, that goes to bed wi' 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're very welcome.

I wouldn't put

the hoe into the earth to plant a single one of them;

no more so than if I wore makeup and

this youth said he liked it and only wanted

to breed with me because of it. Here are flowers for you;

hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram;

the marigold, which goes to sleep with the sun

and rises with the dew: these are the flowers

of the middle of summer, and I think I'm giving them

to men of middle age. You're very welcome.

CAMILLO

I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,

And only live by gazing.

If I was one of your flock I would give up grazing

and just spend my life gazing.

PERDITA

Out, alas!

You'd be so lean, that blasts of January

Would blow you through and through.

Now, my fair'st 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 let'st fall

From Dis's waggon! 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

Bight 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!

Don't be so daft!

You would get so thin that the winds of January

would blow right through you. Now, my fair friends,

I wish I had some spring flowers that would

suit your age; and yours, and yours,

who are still dressed in innocence: oh Prosperina,

I wish I had the flowers that you, frightened, dropped

from Pluto's chariot! Daffodils,

that come ahead of the swallow, and delight

the winds of March with their beauty; violets, dim,

but sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes

or the breath of Venus; pale primroses,

that die unmarried, before they can see

the bright sun at his strongest (an illness

maids often suffer from); tall oxlips

and the Crown Imperial; lilies of all kinds,

the fleur-de-lys being one of them. Oh, I don't have these

to make you garlands, and to cover my sweet friend

over and over!

FLORIZEL

What, like a corse?

What, like a corpse?

PERDITA

No, like a bank for love to lie and play on;

Not like a corse; 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.

No, like a bank for lovers to lie and play on;

not like a corpse; or if you were, not buried,

but alive and in my arms. Come, take your flowers:

I think I'm acting as I've seen them do

in the Whitsun plays: I think my dress

must have changed my character.

FLORIZEL

What you do

Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,

I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing,

I'ld 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 deed,

That all your acts are queens.

Everything you do

gets better and better. When you speak, sweet,

I wish you would never stop: when you sing,

I'd like you to do it when you're trading, giving charity,

praying; when you are giving orders for your business

I'd like you to sing them too: when you dance, I wish

that you were a wave on the sea, that would never do

anything but that; just keep moving, stay like that,

have nothing else to do: everything you do,

so wonderful in every way,

adds to what you are doing at the moment,

and makes everything you do heavenly.

PERDITA

O Doricles,

Your praises are too large: but that your youth,

And the true blood which peepeth fairly through't,

Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd,

With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,

You woo'd me the false way.

Oh Doricles,

you give me too much praise: if it wasn't that your youth,

and the honest blood which can be seen in you,

clearly indicate that you are an innocent shepherd,

if I thought about it I might worry, my Doricles,

that you are wooing me with falsehoods.

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.

I think you have

as little cause to fear as I have intention

to do that. But come, let us dance please:

give me your hand, my Perdita: together like turtledoves

that will never part.

PERDITA

I'll swear for 'em.

I swear they don't.

POLIXENES

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.

This is the prettiest peasant lass that ever

ran in the fields: everything she does and appears to be

makes her look as if she was nobler than her birth,

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.

He's telling her something

that's making her blush: good heavens,

she is the queen of the dairy.

Clown

Come on, strike up!

Come on, let's have music!

DORCAS

Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic,

To mend her kissing with!

Mopsa will dance with you: give her some garlic

to make her kisses sweeter!

MOPSA

Now, in good time!

Now, behave yourself!

Clown

Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners.

Come, strike up!

Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses

No talking, no talking; we're wasting time.

Come, play the music!

POLIXENES

Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this

Which dances with your daughter?

Tell me, good shepherd, what handsome lad is this

who dances with your daughter?

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.

They call him Doricles; he says

he owns a good estate: I have his

word on it and I believe it;

he looks honest. He says he loves my daughter:

I believe that too; for the moon never looked

down on the water in the same way as he will

stand looking into my daughter's eyes: to be honest with you

I don't think there's any difference

in their devotion to each other.

POLIXENES

She dances featly.

She dances beautifully.

Shepherd

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.

She does everything beautifully, although

I say it myself: if young Doricles

chooses her, she will bring him things

he cannot dream of.

Enter Servant

Servant

O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the

door, you would never dance again after a tabour 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.

Oh master, if you only heard the pedlar at the

door, you would never want to dance to the whistle and

drum again; you wouldn't care for the bagpipes: he sings

different tunes faster than you can count money; he

sings them as if he had eaten the music sheets and

everyone  bends their ears to his tune.

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.

 He couldn't have come at a better time; let him in.

I'm exceedingly fond of ballads, if it has a sad