I would I had some flowers o' the spring, that might Your maiden-heads growing:-0 Proserpina, That come before the swallow dares, and take Florizel. What, like a corse Perdita. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on; Not like a corse or if,-not to be buried, But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers: In Whitsun pastorals: sure, this robe of mine Florizel. What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so; so, give alms; Pray, so; and then To sing them too. A wave o' the sea, Nothing but that for the ordering your affairs, When you do dance, I wish you move still, still so, And own no further function: each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you 're doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens. Perdita. O Doricles, Your praises are too large; but that your youth, And the true blood, which peeps forth fairly through it, You woo'd me the false way. Florizel. I think you have As little skill to fear, as I have purpose To put you to 't. But come; our dance, I pray : That never mean to part. Perdita. I'll swear for 'em. Polixenes. This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Camillo. He tells her something That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is This delicious scene is interrupted by the father of the prince discovering himself to Florizel, and haughtily breaking off the intended match between his son and Perdita. When Polixenes goes out, Perdita says, "Even here undone : I was much afraid; for once, or twice [To Florizel. I told you what would come of this. Beseech you, As Perdita, the supposed shepherdess, turns out to be the daughter of Hermione, and a princess in disguise, both feelings of the pride of birth and the claims of nature are satisfied by the fortunate event of the story, and the fine romance of poetry is reconciled to the strictest court-etiquette. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL is one of the most pleasing of our author's comedies. The interest is, however, more of a serious than of a comic nature. The character of Helena is one of great sweetness and delicacy. She is placed in circumstances of the most critical kind, and has to court her husband both as a virgin and a wife: yet the most scrupulous nicety of female modesty is not once violated. There is not one thought or action that ought to bring a blush into her cheeks, or that for a moment lessens her in our esteem. Perhaps the romantic attachment of a beautiful and virtuous girl to one placed above her hopes by the circumstances of birth and fortune, was never so exquisitely expressed as in the reflections which she utters when young Roussillon leaves his mother's house, under whose protection she has been brought up with him, to repair to the French king's court. "Helena. Oh, were that all!—I think not on my father; And these great tears grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him: my imagination In my heart's table: heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour: But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy The interest excited by this beautiful picture of a fond and innocent heart is kept up afterwards by her resolution to follow him to France, the success of her experiment in restoring the king's health, her demanding Bertram in marriage as a recompense, his leaving her in disdain, her interview with him afterwards disguised as Diana, a young lady whom he importunes with his secret addresses, and their final reconciliation when the consequences of her stratagem and the proofs of her |