Page 818 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this
Which dances with your daughter?

SHEPHERD
They call him Doricles; and boasts himself [170]
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 gaz’d the moon
Upon the water as he’ll stand and read [175]

As ’twere my daughter’s eyes: and, to be plain,
I think there is not half a kiss to choose
Who loves another best.

POLIXENES
She dances featly.

SHEPHERD
So she does any thing, though I report it
That should be silent. If young Doricles [180]

Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreams of.

Enter Servant.

SERVANT
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 [185] tunes, faster than you’ll tell money; he utters them as he had
eaten ballads, and all men’s ears grew to his tunes.

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 [190] lamentably.

SERVANT