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, enchantment,-
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,
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!

[Exit.

I was not much afeard: for once, or twice,
I was about to speak; and tell him plainly,
The selfsame 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.

Shep.

Why, how now, father?

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

7 cors.

Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me Where no priest shovels-in dust.-O cursed wretch! [TO PERDITA.

That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st ad

venture

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 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 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

7 A leading string.

Be advis'd.

Am heir to my affection.

Cam.

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 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 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.[Takes her aside.

I'll hear you by and by.

[To CAMILLO.

• Love.

Cam.

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,

Now, good Camillo,

I am so fraught with curious business, that

I leave out ceremony.

Cam.

Sir, I think,

[Going

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 discontenting8 father strive to qualify,
And bring him up to liking.

• For discontented.

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.

A place, whereto you'll go?

Flo.

Have you thought on

Not any yet:

But as the unthought-on accident 9 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
"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,

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