moss, flowers, eglantine, prim-rose, harebell

Cymbeline, [4.2.221-231]. Arviragus. “With fairest flowers/ Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele,/ I’ll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack/ The flower that’s like thy face, pale primrose, nor/ The azur’d harebell, like thy veins, no, nor/ The leaf of eglantine, whom, not to slander,/ Out sweet’ned not thy breath. The ruddock would,/ With charitable bill –O bill, sore shaming/ Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie/ Without a monument!– bring thee all this,/ Yea, and furr’d moss besides. When flow’rs are none,/ To winter-ground thy corse–” Guiderius. “Prithee, have done,/ And do not play in wench-like words with that/ Which is so serious.”