But, to your protestation; let me hear Flo. Do, and be witness to't. Pol. And this my neighbour too? Flo. And he, and more Than he, and men; the earth, the heavens, and all: Commend them, and condemn them, to her service, Pol. Fairly offer'd. Cam. This shows a sound affection. Shep. But, my daughter, Say you the like to him? Per. I cannot speak So well, nothing so 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'the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, Shep. Come, your hand ;- Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you; Have you a father? Flo. I have: But what of him? Pol. Knows he of this? Flo. He neither does, nor shall. Pol. Methinks, a father Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more; Is not your father grown incapable Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak? hear? Know man from man? dispute his own estate? Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing, But what he did, being childish? Flo. No, good sir; He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, Pol. By my white beard, You offer him, if this be so, a wrong Something unfilial: Reason, my son Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason, The father, (all whose joy is nothing else But fair posterity,) should hold some counsel Flo. I yield all this; But, for some other reasons, my grave sir, Pol. Let him know't. Flo. He shall not. Pol. Pr'ythee, let him. Shep. Let him, my son; 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 sir, [Discovering himself. Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base Shep. O, my heart! Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briars, and made More homely than thy state.-For thee, fond boy,- That thou no more shalt see this knack, (as never Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, As thou art tender to't. [Exit. Per. Even here undone! I was not much afeard: for once, or twice, But milk my ewes, and weep. Cam. Why, how now, father? Speak, ere thou diest. Shep. 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, To lie close by his honest bones: but now [TO PERDITA. That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st adventure To mingle faith with him.-Undone ! undone ! If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd To die when I desire. Flo. Why look you so upon me? I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd, But nothing alter'd: What I was, I am : [Exit. More straining on, for plucking back; not following My leash unwillingly. 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 sides o'the earth together, And mar the seeds within!-Lift up thy looks:From my succession wipe me, father! I Am heir to my affection. Cam. Be advis'd. Flo. I am; and by my fancy: if my reason If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness, 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, |