From my Succeffion wipe me, Father, I Am Heir to my Affection.
Flo. I am; and by my Fancy, if my Reafon Will thereto be obedient, I have Reafon; If not, my Senfes, better pleas'd with madness, Do bid it welcome.
Cam. This is defperate, 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 gleaned; for all that the Sun fees, or The clofe Earth wombs, or the profound Seas hide In unknown Fadoms, 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 fhall miss me, (as in faith I mean not To fee him any more) caft your good Counfels Upon his Paffion; let my felf and Fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know, And fo deliver, I am put to Sea
With her, whom here I cannot hold on Shore ; And moft opportune to her need, I have A Veffel rides faft by, but not prepar'd For this defign. What courfe I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your Knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting.
I would your Spirit were easier for advice, Or ftronger for your need.
Flo. Heark, Perdita.
I'll hear you by and by.
Cam. He's irremovable,
Refolv'd for flight: Now were I happy, if His going I could frame to ferve 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 I fo much thirft to fee.
Flo. Now, good Camillo,
I am fo fraught with curious Business, that I leave out Ceremony.
You have heard of my poor Services, i'th' love That I have born your Father?
Have you deferv'd: It is my Father's Mufick To speak your Deeds; not little of his care To have them recompenc'd, as thought on. Cam. Well, my Lord,
If you may please to think I love the King, And through him, what's neareft to him, which is Your gracious felf, embrace but my direction, If your more ponderous and fetled Project
fuffer alteration: On mine Honour, I'll point you where you fhall have such receiving As fhall 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 forefend) your Ruin. Marry her, And with my best Endeavours, in your absence, Your discontented Father ftrive to qualifie, And bring to liking.
Flo. How, Camillo,
May this, almost a Miracle, be done?
That I may call thee fomething more than Man, And after that truft to thee?
Cam. Have you thought on
A place whereto you'll go?
Flo. Not any yet:
But as th❜unthought-on Accident is guilty
Of what we wildly do, fo we profess
Our felves to be the Slaves of Chances, and Flies
Of every Wind that blows.
Cam. Then lift to me:
Tais follows, if you will not change your purpose, But undergo this Flight; make for Sicilia,
And there present your felf, and your fair Princess, (For fo I fee fhe muft be) 'fore Leontes;
She shall be habited, as it becomes
The Partner of your Bed. Methinks I fee Leontes opening his free Arms, and weeping His Welcomes forth; asks thee, the Son, forgiveness, As 'twere i'th' Father's Perfon; kiffes the Hands Of your fresh Princefs; o'er and o'er divides him, Twixt his unkindness, and his kindnefs: th'one He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow Fafter than Thought or Time.
Flo. Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my Vifitation 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, fhall deliver, Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down, The which shall point you forth at every fitting What you must fay, that he fhall not perceive, But that you have your Father's Bofom there, And speak his very Heart.
Flo. I am bound to you : There is fome Sap in this.
Cam. A courfe more promifing,
Than a wild Dedication of your selves
To unpath'd Waters, undream'd Shores; moft certain, To Miferies enough: No hope to help you,
But as you fhake off one, to take another : Nothing fo certain, as your Anchors, who Do their best Office, if they can but stay you, Where you'll be loath to be: Befides, you know, Prosperity's the very Bond of Love,
Whose fresh Complexion, and whofe Heart together, Affliction alters.
Per. One of thefe is true:
I think Affliction may fubdue the Check,
But not take in the Mind.
Cam. Yea, fay you fo?
There fhall not at your Father's House, these feven Years, Be born another fuch.
But Nature makes that mean; fo over that Art, Which you fay adds to Nature is an Art
That Nature makes; you fee, fweet Maid, we marry A gentler Sien to the wildeft Stock,
And make conceive a Bark of bafer kind
By Bud of Nobler Race. This is an Art
Which does mend Nature;. Change it rather; but The Art it felf is Nature.
Pol. Then make your Garden rich in Gillyflowers, And do not call them Baftards.
The Dible in Earth, to fet one flip of them: No more than were I Painted, I would wish
This Youth fhould fay 'twere well; and only therefore Defire to breed by me. Here's Flowers for you; Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram, The Mary-gold, that goes to Bed with th' Sun, And with him rifes, weeping: These are Flowers. Of middle Summer, and, I think, they are given To Men of middle Age. Y'are welcome.
Cam. I fhould leave grazing, were I of your Flock, And only live by gazing.
You'ld be fo lean, that blafts of January
Would blow you through and through. Now, my fairest Friends,
I would I had fome Flowers o'th' Spring, that might Become your time of day; and yours, and yours, That wear upon your Virgin-branches yet Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proferpina, For the Flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'ft fall From Diffes Waggon: Daffadils,
That come before the Swallow dares, and take The Winds of March with Beauty; Violets, dim, But sweeter than the Lids of Juno's Eyes, Or Cytherea's Breath; pale Prim-rofes, That die unmarried, e'er they can behold Bright Phoebus in his Strength, a Malady Moft incident to Maids; bold Oxlips, and
The Crown-Imperial; Lillies of all kinds, The Flower-de-Lis being one. O these I lack To make you Garlands of, and my fweet Friend To ftrew him o'er and o'er.
Flo. What? like a Coarfe?
Per. No, like a Bank, for Love to lye and play on: Not like a Coarfe; or if, not to be buried,
But quick, and in mine Arms. Come, take your Flowers, Methinks I play as I have feen them do
In Whitfon Paftorals: Sure this Robe of mine
Does change my Difpofition,
Flo. What you do,
Still betters what is done. When you speak, Sweet, I'll have you do it ever; when you fing,
I'll have you buy and fell fo; fo give Alms; Pray fo; and for the ord❜ring your
When you do Dance, I wish you
A Wave o'th' Sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that; move ftill, ftill fo,
And own no other Function.
So fingular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present Deeds, That all your A&s are Queens.
Your Praises are too large; but that your Youth And the true Blood which peeps forth fairly through it, Do plainly give you out an unftain'd Shepherd, With Wisdom, I might fear, my Doricles,
You woo'd me the falfe way.
Flo. I think you have
As little Skill to fear, as I have purpose
To put you to't. But come, our Dance I pray; Your Hand, my Perdita; folTurtles pair
That never mean to part.
Per. I'll fwear for 'em.
Pol. This is the prettieft low-born Lass, that ever Ran on the green-ford; nothing fhe does, or feems, But fmacks of fomething greater than her felf, Too noble for this place.
Cam. He tells her fomething
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