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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.
Fio. 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 your

contract. Pol. Mark your divorce, young sir, [Discovering himself. Whom son I dare not call: thou art too base To be acknowledg’d. Thou a scepter's heir, That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! Thou old traytor, I'm 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 cop'st with

SHEP. O my heart !

Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briars, and made More homely than thy state. For thée, fond boy, If I may ever know thou dost but figh That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succesfion; Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, Far than Deucalion off. Mark thou my words: Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time, Tho'full of our displeasure, yet we free thee

From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment,
Worthy enough a herdsman ; yea him to,
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 it.

[Exit.

S

C

E NE 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 sun, that shines upon his court, Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike. Wilt please you, sir, begone ? (To Floriz. 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 farther, But milk my ewes and weep.

Ćam. Why, how now, father? Speak, ere thou dieft.

SHEP, I cannot speak, nor think, Nor dare I know that which I know. O fir, [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 dy'd, To lie clase by his honest bones; but now Some hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch! (To Perd. That knew'st this was the prince; and would'st adventure To mingle faith with him. Undone, undone !

me?

If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire.

[Exit. SCE N E IX.

/
Flo. Why look you so upon
I am but sorry, not afraid; 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 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 sides o'th' 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 thereout 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 opportune 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.

[To Camillo Cam. He's irremoveable, Resolv'd for fight: 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 fight again of dear Sicilia, And that unhappy king, my master, whom

[Aside.

I so much thirst to see.

Flo. Now, good Camillo
I am so fraught with curious business, that
I leave out ceremony.

CAM. Sir, I think,
You have heard of my poor services, i'th' 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 recompenc’d, as thought oa.

Cam. Well, my lord,
If you may please to think I love the king,
And through him, what's nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self, embrace but my direction.
If your more ponderous and settled project
May luffer 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 heav'ns forfend!) your ruin. Marry her,
And with my best endeavours, in your absence,
Your discontented father I'll 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 mang
And after that trust to thee.

Cam. Have you thought on
A place whereto you'll go?

Flo. Not any yet ;

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