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To load my She with Knacks: I would have Ransack'd
The Pedler's silken Treasury, and have pour'd it
To her Acceptance; you have let him go,
And nothing marted with him. If your Lass
Interpretation Mould abuse, and call this
Your lack of Love, or Bounty, you were straited
For a Reply at least, if you make a Care
Of happy holding her.
Els Flo. Old Sir, I know
She prizes not such Trifles as these are;
The Gifts she looks from me, are packt and locke
Up in my Heart, which I have given already,
But not deliver’d. O hear me breath my Life - Before this ancient Sir, who, it should seem
Hath sometime lov'd. I take thy Hand, this Hand,
& As soft as Dove's Down, and as white as it,
* Or Ethiopians Tooth, or the fan'd Snow,
That's bolted by th' Northern Blalt, twice o'er.
Pol. What follows this?
How prettily the young Swain seems to wash
The Hand, was fair before! I have put you out;
But to your Protestation: Let me hear
What you profess.
Flo. Do, and be witness to't..
Pol. And this my Neighbour too?
Flo. And he, and more in
Than he, and Men; the Earth, and Heav'ns, and all;
That were I crown'd the most Imperial Monarch
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest Youth
That ever made Eyeswerve, had Force and Knowlege
More than was ever Man's, I would not prize them
Without her Love; for her imploy them all,
Commend them, and condemn them to her Service,
Or to their own Perdition.
Pol. Fairly offer'd.
Cam. This fhews a found Affection.
Shep. But my Daughter,
Say you the like to him
Per. I cannot speak
So well, nothing so well, no, nor mean better.
By the Pattern of my mine own Thoughts, I cut out
The Purity of his.
Shep. Take Hands, a Bargain;
And Friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't :
I give my Daughter to him, and will make
Her Poition equal his.
Flo. O, that must be
I'th' Virtue of your Daughter; one being dead,
I shall have more than you can dream of yet,
Enough then for your Wonder : But come on,
Contract us 'fore these Witnesses.
Shep. Come, your hand;
And, Daughter, yours.
Pol. Soft, Swain, a-while ; ’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 altring Rheums? Can he speak? Hear?
Know Man from Man? Dispute his own Estate?
Lyes 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
Than most have of his Age.
Pol. By my white Beard,
You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
Something unfilial: Reason my Son
Shoud chuse himself a Wife, but as good reason
The Father (all whose Joy is nothing else
But fair Posterity) should hold some Counsel
In such a Business. "
Flo. I yield all this;
But for some other Reasons, my grave Sir,
Which ’tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My Father of this Bufiness.
Pol. Let him know't.
Flo. He shall not.
Pol. Prethee let him.
Flo. No; he must not.
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 To be acknowledg’d. Thou a Scepter's Heir, That thus affe&s a Sheep-hook? Thou old Traytor, I am sorry that by hanging thee, I can But shorten thy Life one Week. And thou fresh Piece Of excellent Witchcraft, who of force must know The Royal Fool thou coap'st with,
Shep. Oh my Heart !
Pol. I'll have thy Beauty scratch'd with Briars, and made More homely than thy State. For thee, fond Boy, If I may ever know thou doit but figh, That thou no more shalt see this Knack, as never I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from Succession, Not hold thee of our Blood, no not our King Far than Deucalion off : Mark thou my Words ; Follow us to the Court. Thou Churl, for this time, Tho' full of our Displeasure, yet we free thee From the dead blow of it: And You, Enchantment, Worthy enough a Herdsman; yea him too, That makes himself, but for our Honour therein, Unworthy, thee ; if ever, henceforth, thou These rural Latches to his entrance open, Or hope his Body more, with thy Embraces, I will devise a Death as cruel for thee, As thou art tender to it.
ÇExit. Per. Even here undone : I was not much afraid ; for once or twice I was about to speak, and tell him plainly, The self-fame Sun that shines upon his Court, Hides not his Visage from our Cottage, but Looks on alike. Wilt please you, Sir, be gone? [70 Flo.
Flo. Now, good Camillo,
I am so 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 deserv'd: It is my Father's Musick
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 nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self, embrace but my dire&ion,
If your more ponderous and setled Project
May suffer alteration : On mine Honour,
I'll point you where you shall have such receiving
As shall 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 strive to qualifie,
And bring to liking.
Flo. How, Camillo, May this, almost a Miracle, be done? That I may call thee something more than Man, And after that trust 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, so we profess Our selves to be the Slaves of Chances, and Flies Of every Wind that blows.
Cam. Then lift to me : Tois follows, if you will not change your purpose, But undergo this Flight; make for Sicilia, And there present your self, and your fair Princess, (For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes;
She shall be habited, as it becomes
The Partner of your Bed. Methinks I see
Leontes opening his free Arms, and weeping
His Welcomes forth; asks thee, the Son, forgiveness,
As'twerei'ch'Father's Person; kisses the Hards
Of your fresh Princess; o'er and o'er divides him,
"Twixt his unkindness, and his kindness : thione
He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
Faster than Thought or Time.
Flo. Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my Visitation 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, shall deliver,
Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down,
The which shall point you forth at every fitting
What you must say, that he shall not perceive,
But that you have your Father's Borom there,
And speak his very Heart.
Flo. I am bound to you :
There is some Sap in this.
Cam. A course more promising,
Than a wild Dedication of your selves
To unpath'd Waters, undream'd Shores; most certain,
To Miseries enough: No hope to help you,
But as you shake off one, to take another :
Nothing so certain, as your Anchors, who
Do their best Office, if they can but stay you,
Where you'll be loath to be: B:sides, you know,
Prosperity's the very Bond of Love,
Whose fresh Complexion, and whose Heart together,
Per. One of these is true:
I think Affliction may subdue the Cheek,
But not take in the Mind.
· Cam. Yea, say you so ?
There shall not at your Father's House, these five Years,
B: born another such.
Whar Ich Mail, Wixt us that her, Thallen