The Crown-Imperial; Lillies of all kinds,

The Flower-de-Lis being one.

O thefe I lack

To make you Garlands of, and my sweet Friend

To ftrew him o'er and o'er.

Flo. What? like a Coarfe?

Per. No, like a Bank, for Love to lye and play on: Not like a Coarfe; or if, not to be buried,

But quick, and in mine Arms. Come, take your Flowers,
Methinks I play as I have feen them do

In Whitfon Paftorals: Sure this Robe of mine
Does change my Difpofition.

Flo. What you do,

Still betters what is done. When you fpeak, Sweet,
I'll have you do it ever; when you fing,

I'll have you buy and fell fo; fo give Alms;
Pray fo; and for the ord'ring your Affairs,
To fing them too. When you do Dance, I wish you
A Wave o'th' Sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move ftill, ftill so,
And own no other Function.

So fingular in each particular,

Each your doing,

Crowns what you are doing in the present Deeds,
That all your Ads are Queens.

Per. O Doricles,

Your Praifes are too large; but that your Youth

And the true Blood which peeps forth fairly through it, Do plainly give you out an unftain'd Shepherd,

With Wisdom, I might fear, my Doricles,

You woo'd me the false way.

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; folTurtles pair

That never mean to part.

Per. I'll fwear for 'em.

Pol. This is the prettieft low-born Lass, that ever
Ran on the green-ford; nothing fhe does, or feems,
But fmacks of fomething greater than her self,
Too noble for this place.

Cam. He tells her fomething

That

That makes her Blood look on't: Good footh the is

The Queen of Curds and Cream.

Clo. Come on, strike up.

Dor. Mopfa must be your Miftrefs; marry Garlick to mend her kiffing with.

Mop. Now in good time.

Clo. Not a word, a word, we ftand upon our Manners, Come strike up.

Here a Dance of Shepherds and Shepherdeffes.

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 footh; he fays he loves my Daughter,
I think fo too; for never gaz'd the Moon
Upon the Water, as he'll ftand and read

As 'twere my Daughter's Eyes: And, to be plain,
I think there is not half a Kifs to chufe

Who loves another beft.

Pol. She Dances featly.

Shep. So he does any thing, tho' I report it
That should be filent; if young Doricles

Do light upon her, the thall bring him that
Which he not dreams of.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. O Mafter, if you did but hear the Pedler at the Door, you would never Dance again after a Tabor and Pipe: No, the Bag-pipe could not move you; he fings feveral Tunes fafter than you'll tell Mony; he utters them as he had eaten Ballads, and all Mens 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 fet down; or a very pleasant thing indeed, and fung lamentably.

Ser. He hath Songs for Man or Woman of all Sizes; no Milliner can fo fit his Cuftomers with Gloves: He has the prettieft Love-fongs for Maids, fo without Bawdry, (which is ftrange) with fuch delicate burthens of Dildos

and

and Fadings: Jump her and thump her; and where fome ftretch-mouth'd Rafcal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the Maid to anfwer, Whoop, do me no harm, good Man; puts him off, flights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, good Man. Pol. This is a brave Fellow.

Clo. Believe me, thou talkeft of an admirable conceited Fellow, has he any unbraided Wares?

Ser. He hath Ribbons of all the Colours i'th' Rainbow; Points, more than all the Lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, tho' they come to him by the grofs: Inkles, Caddiffes, Cambricks, Lawns; why he fings 'em over, as they were Gods or Goddeffes; you would think a Smock were a She Angel, he fo chants to the Sleeve-hand, and the work about the Square on't.

Clo. Prethee bring him in, and let him approach finging.

Per. Forewarn him that he ufe no fcurrillous Words in's Tunes.

Clo. You have of thefe Pedlers, that have more in them, than you'ld think, Sifter.

Per. Ay, good Brother, or go about to think.

Enter Autolicus finging.

Lawn as white as driven Snow,
Cypress black as e'er was Crow;
Gloves as fweet as Damask Rofes,
Masks for Faces, and for Nofes;
Bugle-Bracelets, Neck-lace Amber,
Perfume for a Lady's Chamber :
Golden Quoifs, and Stomachers,
For my Lads to give their Dears:
Pins, and poaking Sticks of Steel,
What Maids lack from Head to Heel:

Come buy of me, come: Come buy, come buy,
Buy Lads, or else your Laffes cry: Come buy.

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopfa, thou should'st take no Mony of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the Bondage of certain Ribbons and Gloves.

Mop.

Mop. I was promis'd them againft the Feaft, but they

come not too late now.

Dor. He hath promis'd you more than that, or there be Liars.

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be he has paid you more, which will thame you to give him again.

Clo. 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 kill-hole to whiftle of thefe Secrets; but you must be tittle-tatling before all our Guefts; 'tis well they are whispring Clamour your Tongues, and not a word more.

Mop. I have done: Come, you promis'd me a tawdry Lace, and a pair of fweet Gloves.

Clo. Have I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and loft all my Mony?

Aut. And indeed, Sir, there fare Cozeners abroad, therefore it behoves Men to be wary.

Clo. Fear not thou, Man, thou fhalt lofe nothing here. Aut. I hope fo, Sir, for I have about me many Parcels of Charge.

Clo. What haft here? Ballads ?

Mop. Pray now buy fome, I love a Ballad in Print, a Life, for then we are fure they are true.

Aut. Here's one to a very doleful Tune, how a Ufurer's Wife was brought to bed with twenty Mony Bags at a Burthen, and how the long'd to eat Adder's Heads, and Toads Carbonado'd.

Mop. Is it true, think you?

Aut. Very true, and but a month old.

Dor. Blefs me from marrying a Ufurer.

Aut. Here's the Midwife's name to't; one Mistress TalePorter, and five or fix honeft Wives that were present. Why should I carry Lyes abroad?

Mop. 'Pray you now buy it.

Clo. Come on, lay it by; and let's firft fee moe Ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.

Aut. Here's another Ballad of a Fiíh, that appear'd upon the Coast, on Wednesday the fourfcore of April, forty thou

fand

fand Fadom above Water, and fung this Ballad against the hard Hearts of Maids; it was thought he was a Woman, and was turn'd into a cold Fish, for the would not exchange Flesh with one that lov'd her: The Ballad is very pitiful, and as true.

Dor. Is it true too, think you?

Aut. Five Juftices hands at it; and Witneffes 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 paffing merry one, and goes to the tune of two Maids wooing a Man; there's fcarce a Maid Weftward but she fings it: 'Tis in Requeft, I can tell you. Mop. We can both fing it; if thou'lt bear a part, thoa fhalt hear, 'tis in three parts.

Dor. We had the Tune on't a Month a-go.

Aut. I can bear my part, you must know 'tis my occu pation: Have at it with you.

Mop. It becomes thy Oath full well,
Thou to me thy Secrets tell.

Dor. Me too, let me go thither:

Mop. Or thou goeft to th' Grange, or Mill,
Dor. If to either thou doft ill:

Aut. Neither.

Dor. What neither ?

Aut. Neither.

Dor. Thou hast fworn my Love to be,

Mop. Thou hast fworn it more to me:

Then whither goeft? Say whither?

Clo. We'll have this Song out anon by our felves: My Father and the Gentlemen are in fad talk, and we'll not trou