These your unusual weeds to each part of you
Does give a life; no shepherdess, but Flora
Peering in April’s front. This your sheep-shearing
Is as a meeting of the petty gods,
And you the queen on’t.
Sir, my gracious lord,
To chide at your extremes it not becomes me.
O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self,
The gracious mark o’ th’ land, you have obscur’d
With a swain’s wearing, and me, poor lowly maid,
Most goddess-like prank’d up. But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest ’t with a custom, I should blush
To see you so attir’d—sworn, I think,
To show myself a glass.
I bless the time
When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father’s ground.
Now Jove afford you cause!
To me the difference forges dread; your greatness
Hath not been us’d to fear. Even now I tremble
To think your father, by some accident,
Should pass this way as you did. O, the Fates!
How would he look to see his work, so noble,
Vildly bound up? What would he say? Or how
Should I, in these my borrowed flaunts, behold
The sternness of his presence?
Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves
(Humbling their deities to love) have taken
The shapes of beasts upon them. Jupiter
Became a bull and bellow’d; the green Neptune
A ram and bleated; and the fire-rob’d god,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
As I seem now. Their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires
Run not before mine honor, nor my lusts
Burn hotter than my faith.
O but, sir,
Your resolution cannot hold when ’tis
Oppos’d (as it must be) by th’ pow’r of the King.
One of these two must be necessities,
Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose,
Or I my life.
Thou dear’st Perdita,
With these forc’d thoughts I prithee darken not
The mirth o’ th’ feast. Or I’ll be thine, my fair,
Or not my father’s; for I cannot be
Mine own, nor any thing to any, if
I be not thine. To this I am most constant,
Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle!
Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing
That you behold the while. Your guests are coming:
Lift up your countenance, as it were the day
Of celebration of that nuptial, which
We two have sworn shall come.
O Lady Fortune,
Stand you auspicious!
See, your guests approach,
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let’s be red with mirth.