Far 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, enchant

Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too,
That makes himself, but for our honour therein,
Unworthy thee, if ever, henceforth, thou

These rural latches to his entrance open,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to't.

Per.

[Exit.

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.

Speak, ere thou diest.

Why, how now, father?

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.- O wretched
[TO PERDITA.
That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st ad-

girl!

venture

7 Further.

To mingle faith with him. Undone! undone !
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire.

Flo.

[Exit.

Why look you so upon mé?

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,

guess,

You know your father's temper: at this time
He will allow no speech, which, I do
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 think, Camillo.

Cam.

I not purpose it.

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 advis'd.

Flo. I am; and by my fancy': if my reason
Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;
If not, my senses, better pleas'd 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 belov'd: Therefore, I pray you,
As you have, ever been my father's 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 oppórtune to our need, I have
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd

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.

[Takes her aside. [To CAMILLO.

He's irremovable,

Resolv'd 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.

I am so fraught with curious business, that
I leave out ceremony.

Cam.

Now, good Camillo,

[Going.

Sir, I think,

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

Flo.
Very nobly
Have you deserv'd it is my father's musick,
To speak your deeds; not little of his care
To have them recompens'd 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 the 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.

2

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.

A place, whereto you'll go?

Flo.

Have you thought on

Not any yet: But as the unthought-on accident3 is guilty To what we wildly do; so we profess

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

Of

Cam.

This follows,

Then list to me:

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
'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one

2 For discontented.

3 The unexpected discovery made by Polixenes.

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.

There is some sap in this.
Cam.

I am bound to you:

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.

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