Know man from man? Dispute his own estate? Lies he not bed-rid? And again does nothing, But what he did being childish?

Flo. No, good Sir;

He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed,

Than most have of his age.

Pol. By my white beard,

You offer him, if this be so, a wrong

Something unfilial: reason, my son

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

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

Flo. I yield all this,

But, for some other reasons, my grave Sir,
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint

My father of this business.

Pol. Let him know't.

Flo. He shall not.

Pol. Pr'ythee, let him.

Flo. No, he must not.

Shep. Let him, my son; 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 Sir,

[Discovering himself.

Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base
To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir,
That thus affect'st a sheep-hook!-Thou old traitor,
I am sorry, 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 copest with ;-

Shep. O, my heart!

Pol. I'll have, thy beauty scratch'd with briars,

and made

More homely than thy state.---For thee, fond boy,
If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh,
That thou no more shalt see this knack, (as never
I mean thou shalt,) we'll bar thee from succession;
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our kin,
Fart 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
From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment,
Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too,

* Talk over his affairs. + Further.

That makes himself, but for our honour therein,
Unworthy thee,---if ever, henceforth, thou
These rural latches to his entrance open,
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to't.

Per. Even here undone!

I was not much afeard: for once, or twice,
I was about to speak; and tell him plainly,
The self-same sun, that shines upon his court,
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike.-Will't please you, Sir, be gone?
[To Florizel.
I told you, what would come of this: 'beseech you,
Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch further,
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, Sir,

[To Florizel.

You have undone a man of fourscore three,
That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
To die upon the bed my father died,
To lie close by his honest bones: but now
Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me
Where no priest shovels-in dust.-0 cursed wretch!
[To Perdita.
That knew'st this was the prince, and wouldst

adventure

To mingle faith with him. Undone! Undone!
If I might die within this hour, I have lived
To die when I desire.

[Exit.

Flo. Why look you so upon me? I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd, But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am: More straining on, for plucking back; not following

My leash unwillingly.

Cam. Gracious my lord,

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

Come not before him.

Flo. I not purpose it.

I think, Camillo.

* A leading string.

1

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 sides o' the earth together,

And mar the seeds within!-Lift up thy looks:

From my succession wipe me, father! I

Am heir to my affection.

Cam. Be advised.

Flo. I am; and by my fancy: if my reason

Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;
If not, my senses, better pleased with madness,
Do bid it welcome.

Cam. This is desperate, Sir.

Flo. So call it: but it does fulfil my vow;
I needs must think it honesty. Camillo,
Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may
Be thereat glean'd; for all the sun sees, or
The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide.
In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath
To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you,
As you have e'er been my father's honour'd friend,
When he shall miss me, (as, in faith, I mean not
To see him any more), cast your good counsels
Upon his passion; let myself, and fortune,
Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And so deliver, I am put to sea

With her whom here I cannot hold on shore;
And, most opportune to our need, I have
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared
For this design. What course I mean to hold,
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concern me the reporting.

Cam, O, my lord,

I would your spirit were easier for advice,

Or stronger for your need.

Flo. Hark, Perdita.

I'll hear you by and by.

Cam. He's irremovable,

[Takes her aside.

[To Camillo.

Resolved for flight: now were I happy, if
His going I could frame to serve my turn;
Save him from danger, do him love and honour;
Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia,
And that unhappy king, my master, whom

I so much thirst to see.

Flo. Now, good Camillo,

VOL. II.

Hhh

I am so fraught with curious business that'

I leave out ceremony.

Cam. Sir, I think,

You have heard of my poor services, i' the love That I have borne your father ?

Flo. Very nobly

Have you deserved: it is my father's music,
To speak your deeds; not little of his care
To have them recompensed as thought on.

Cam. Well, my lord,

If you may please to think I love the king;
And, through him, what is nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self; embrace but my direction,
(If your more ponderous and settled project
May suffer alteration,) on mine honour

I'll point you where you shall have such receiving
As shall become your highness; where you may
Enjoy your mistress: (from thee whom, I see,
There's no disjunction to be made, but by,
As heavens forefend! your ruin:) marry her';
And (with my best endeavours, in your absence,)
Your discontenting father strive to qualify,
And bring him up to liking.

Flo. How, Camillo,

May this, almost a miracle, be done?

That I may call thee something more than man,

And, after that, trust to thee.

Cam. Have you thought on

A place, whereto you'll go?

Flo. Not any yet:

But as the unthought-on accident is guilty
To what we wildly do; so we profess

Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies
Of every wind that blows.

Cam. Then list to me:

This follows, if you will not change your purpose, But undergo this flight; - Make for Sicilia;

And there present yourself, and your fair princess,
(For so, I see, she must be,) 'fore Leontes;
She shall be habited, as it becomes

The partner of your bed. Methinks, I see
Leontes, opening his free arms, and weeping
His welcomes forth: asks thee, the son, forgiveness,
As 'twere i' the father's person: kisses the hands
Of your fresh princess: o'er and o'er divides him

* For discontented.

+ This unthought-on accident is the unexpected discovery made by Polixenes.

'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one He chides to hell, and bids the other grow, Faster than thought, or time.

Flo. Worthy Camillo,

What colour for my visitation shall I
Hold up before him?

Cam. Sent by the king your father
To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir,
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What you, as from your father, shall deliver,
Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down:
The which shall point you forth, at every sitting*,
What you must say; that he shall not perceive,
But that you have your father's bosom there,
And speak his very heart.
Flo. I am bound to you:

There is some sap in this.

Cam. A course more promising
Than a wild dedication of yourselves

To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores; most certain,
To miseries enough: no hope to help you;
But, as you shake off one, to take another:
Nothing so certain, as your anchors; who
Do their best office, if they can but stay you
Where you'll be loath to be besides, you know,
Prosperity's the very bond of love;

Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
Affliction alters.

Per. One of these is true :

I think, affliction may subdue the cheek,

But not take in the mind.

Cam. Yea, say you so ?

There shall not, at your father's house, these seven

years,

Be born another such.

Flo. My good Camillo,

She is as forward of her breeding, as

I' the rear of birth.

Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pity

She lacks instructions; for she seems a mistress

To most that teach.

Per. Your pardon, Sir, for this;

I'll blush you thanks.

Flo. My prettiest Perdita.

But, O, the thorns we stand upon !-Camillo,-
Preserver of my father, now of me;

* The council-days are called the sittings.
+ Conquer.