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Cam. This fhows a found affection.

Shep. But, my daughter,

Say you the like to him?

Per. I cannot fpeak

So well, nothing fo well; no, nor mean better:
By th' pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.

Shep. Take hands, a bargain;

And, friends unknown! you shall bear witness to't:
I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.

Flo. O, that must be

I'th' virtue of your daughter; one being dead,
I fhall have more than you can dream of yet,
Enough then for your wonder: but, come on,
Contract us 'fore thefe witneffes.

Shep. Come, your hand;

And, daughter, yours.

Pol. Soft, fwain, a while; 'befeech you,

Have you a father?

Flo. I have; but what of him?

Pol. Knows he of this?

Flo. He neither does, nor fhall.

Pol. Methinks, a father

Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest

That beft becomes the table: 'pray you, once more,

Is not your father grown incapable

Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid

With age, and alt'ring rheums? can he speak? hear ?
Know man from man? dispute his own estate?

Lies he not bedrid? and again does nothing

But what he did being childish?

Flo. No, good fir;

He has his health, and ampler ftrength, indeed,
Than most have of his age.

Pol. By my white beard,

You

You offer him, if this be fo, a wrong

Something unfilial: reason, my fon

Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason,
The father (all whofe joy is nothing else

But fair posterity) should hold some counsel
In fuch a business.

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Shep. Let him, my fon; he shall not need to grieve

At knowing of thy choice.

Flo. Come, come, he must not:

Mark our contract.

Pol. Mark your divorce, young fir,

[difcovering himself.

Whom fon I dare not call; thou art too bafe

To be acknowledg'd: thou a fceptre's heir,

That thus affect'ft a fheep-hook! Thou old traytor,
I'm forry that by hanging thee I can

But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece
Of excellent witchcraft, who, of force, must know
The royal fool thou cop'ft with -

Shep. O, my heart!

Pol. I'll have thy beauty fcratch'd with briars, and made More homely than thy ftate. For thee, fond boy,

If I may ever know thou doft but figh

That thou no more fhalt fee this knack, (as never
I mean thou fhalt,) we'll bar thee from fucceffion,
Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin,
Less than Deucalion off: mark thou my words;
Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time,
Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee

VOL. II.

Ccc c

From

From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment,
Worthy enough a herdsman, yea, him too
That makes himself, but for our honour therein,
Unworthy thee; if ever, henceforth, thou
Thefe rural latches to his entrance open,
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
I will devife a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to it.

SCENE VIII.

Per. Even here undone !

I was not much afraid; for once or twice
I was about to speak, and tell him plainly,
The self-fame fun that fhines upon his court,
Hides not his vifage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike. Will't please you, fir, be gone?

[Exit.

[to Flo.

Of

I told you, what would come of this. 'Beseech you,
your own state take care: from this my dream
Being now awake; I'll queen it no inch farther,
But milk my ewes, and weep.

Cam. Why, how now, father?

Speak, ere thou diest.

Shep. I cannot speak, nor think,

Nor dare to know that which I know. O, fir,

You have undone a man of fourscore three,
That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
To die upon the bed my father dy'd,

To lie close by his honest bones: but now

Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me
Where no priest shovels in duft. O curfed wretch !

[to Flo.

[to Perdita.

That knew'ft this was the prince, and wouldft adventure
To mingle faith with him. Undone! undone!
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd

To die when I defire.

[Exit. SCENE

SCENE IX.

Flo. Why look you fo upon me?

I am but forry, not afraid; delay'd,

But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am;

More ftraining on for plucking back; not following
My leafh unwillingly.

Cam. Gracious my lord,

You know your father's temper: at this time
He will allow no fpeech, which I do guess,
You do not purpose to him; and as hardly
Will he endure your fight as yet, I fear:
Then, till the fury of his highness settle,
Come not before him.

Flo. I not purpose it.

I think, Camillo.

Cam. Even he, my lord.

Per. How often have I told you, 'twould be thus? How often said, my dignity would last

But till 'twere known?

Flo. It cannot fail but by

The violation of my faith, and then

Let nature crush the fides o'th' earth together,
And mar the feeds within! — Lift up thy looks.
From my fucceffion wipe me,
father; I

Am heir to my affection.

Cam. Be advis'd.

Flo. I am; and by my fancy: if my reason
Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;

If not, my fenfes, better pleas'd with madness,
Do bid it welcome.

Cam. This is defperate, fir.

Flo. So call it; but it does fulfil my vow;

I needs must think it honefty. Camillo,
Not for Bithynia, nor the pomp that may
Be thereout glean'd; for all the fun fees, or

Cccc 2

The

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The close earth wombs, or the profound feas hide
In unknown fadoms, will I break my oath
To this my fair belov'd: therefore, I pray you,
As you have ever been my father's friend,
When he shall mifs me, (as, in faith, I mean not
To fee him any more) caft your good counfels
Upon his paffion; let myself and fortune

Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And fo deliver, I am put to fea

With her, whom here I cannot hold on fhore;
And, most opportune to our need, I have
A veffel rides faft by, but not prepar'd
For this defign. What courfe I mean to hold
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concern me the reporting.

Cam. O my lord,

I would your fpirit were cafier for advice,
Or ftronger for

your need. ·

Flo. Hark, Perdita.

I'll hear you by and by.

Cam. He's irremoveable,

Refolv'd for flight: now were I happy, if
His going I could frame to ferve my turn;

Save him from danger, do him love and honour;
Purchase the fight again of dear Sicilia,

And that unhappy king, my master, whom
I fo much thirft to fee.

Flo. Now, good Camillo,

I am fo fraught with curious business, that

I leave out ceremony.

Cam. Sir, I think,

You have heard of my poor fervices, i̇'th' love
That I have born your father.

Flo. Very nobly

Have you deserv'd: it is my father's musick
To speak your deeds, not little of his care

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[to Cam,

[afide.

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