Cam. This fhows a found affection. Shep. But, my daughter, Say you the like to him? Per. I cannot fpeak So well, nothing fo well; no, nor mean better: Shep. Take hands, a bargain; And, friends unknown! you shall bear witness to't: Flo. O, that must be I'th' virtue of your daughter; one being dead, Shep. Come, your hand; And, daughter, yours. Pol. Soft, fwain, a while; 'befeech you, Have you a father? Flo. I have; but what of him? Pol. Knows he of this? Flo. He neither does, nor fhall. Pol. Methinks, a father Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest That beft becomes the table: 'pray you, once more, Is not your father grown incapable Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid With age, and alt'ring rheums? can he speak? hear ? Lies he not bedrid? and again does nothing But what he did being childish? Flo. No, good fir; He has his health, and ampler ftrength, indeed, Pol. By my white beard, You You offer him, if this be fo, a wrong Something unfilial: reason, my fon Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason, But fair posterity) should hold some counsel Shep. Let him, my fon; 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 fir, [difcovering himself. Whom fon I dare not call; thou art too bafe To be acknowledg'd: thou a fceptre's heir, That thus affect'ft a fheep-hook! Thou old traytor, But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece Shep. O, my heart! Pol. I'll have thy beauty fcratch'd with briars, and made More homely than thy ftate. For thee, fond boy, If I may ever know thou doft but figh That thou no more fhalt fee this knack, (as never VOL. II. Ccc c From From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment, SCENE VIII. Per. Even here undone ! I was not much afraid; for once or twice [Exit. [to Flo. Of I told you, what would come of this. 'Beseech you, Cam. Why, how now, father? Speak, ere thou diest. Shep. I cannot speak, nor think, Nor dare to know that which I know. O, fir, You have undone a man of fourscore three, To lie close by his honest bones: but now Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me [to Flo. [to Perdita. That knew'ft this was the prince, and wouldft adventure To die when I defire. [Exit. SCENE SCENE IX. Flo. Why look you fo upon me? I am but forry, not afraid; delay'd, But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am; More ftraining on for plucking back; not following Cam. Gracious my lord, You know your father's temper: at this time 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 fides o'th' earth together, Am heir to my affection. Cam. Be advis'd. Flo. I am; and by my fancy: if my reason If not, my fenfes, better pleas'd with madness, Cam. This is defperate, fir. Flo. So call it; but it does fulfil my vow; I needs must think it honefty. Camillo, Cccc 2 The The close earth wombs, or the profound feas hide Tug for the time to come. This you may know, With her, whom here I cannot hold on fhore; Cam. O my lord, I would your fpirit were cafier for advice, your need. · Flo. Hark, Perdita. I'll hear you by and by. Cam. He's irremoveable, Refolv'd for flight: now were I happy, if Save him from danger, do him love and honour; And that unhappy king, my master, whom Flo. Now, good Camillo, I am fo fraught with curious business, that I leave out ceremony. Cam. Sir, I think, You have heard of my poor fervices, i̇'th' love Flo. Very nobly Have you deserv'd: it is my father's musick 1 [to Cam, [afide. Το |