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From my Succeffion wipe me, Father, I
Am Heir to my Affection.

Cam. Be advis'd.

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.

Cam. O my Lord,

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.

[Afide.

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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 Services, i'th' love
That I have born your
Father?

Flo. Very nobly

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

May

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

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.

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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.

Per. So it is.

Pol. Then make your Garden rich in Gillyflowers, And do not call them Baftards.

Per. I'll not put

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.

Per. Out alas;

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

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

To fing them too.

Affairs,

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,

Each your doing,

Crowns what you are doing in the present Deeds,
That all your A&s are Queens.

Per. O Doricles,

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

That

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