Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint

My father of this business.

Shep. Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice.

Whom son I dare not call thou art too base
To be acknowledg'd. Thou a sceptre's heir,

That thus affect'st a sheep-hook!-Thou old traitor,
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 cop'st with—

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,
If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh,

That thou no more shalt never see this knack2, (as

never

I mean thou shalt) we'll bar thee from succession;
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our kin,
Far than Deucalion off:-mark thou my words.
Follow us to the court.-Thou, churl, for this time,
Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it.-And you, enchantment,-

1

who oF FORCE must know] The expression "of force " is equivalent to of necessity.

2 That thou no more shalt NEVER see this knack,] "Never" is surplusage in this line as regards the metre, but the reduplication of negatives was a common mode of writing at the time, and the word is found in all the old copies.

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 hoop his body more with thy embraces,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to't.

Per.

[Exit.

Even here undone ! I was not much afeard; for once, or twice, I was about to speak, and tell him plainly, The selfsame sun that shines upon his court, Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike.-Will't please you, sir, be gone? [TO FLORIZEL. I told you, what would come of this. Beseech you, Of your own state take care: this dream of mine, Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther, But milk my ewes, and weep.

Cam.

Speak, ere thou diest.

Shep.

Why, how now, father?

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,
That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
To die upon the bed my father died,

To lie close by his honest bones: but now,
Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me
Where no priest shovels in dust.-O cursed wretch!

[TO PERDITA. That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st adven

ture

To mingle faith with him.-Undone! undone !
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire.

Flo.

[Exit.

Why look you so upon me?

I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd,

But nothing alter'd. What I was, I am :

More straining on, for plucking back; not following My leash unwillingly.

Cam.

Gracious my lord,

You know your father's temper3: at this time
He will allow no speech, (which, I do guess,
You do not purpose to him) and as hardly
Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear:
Then, till the fury of his highness settle,
Come not before him.

Flo.

I think, Camillo?

Cam.

I not purpose it.

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
Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;

If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness,
Do bid it welcome.

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

3 You know YOUR father's temper :] The copy of 1623 reads, “my father's," which is corrected by the second folio.

I am; and by my FANCY:] i. e. By my love: the use of the word "fancy" in this sense is perpetual in Shakespeare and authors of his age. See "Merchant of Venice," Vol. ii. p. 520, note 5.

In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath

To this my fair belov'd. Therefore, I pray you,
As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend,
When he shall miss me, (as, in faith, I mean not
To see him any more) cast your good counsels
Upon his passion: let myself and fortune,

Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And so deliver.-I am put to sea

With her, whom here I cannot hold on shore;
And, most opportune to her need, I have
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd
For this design. What course 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 stronger for your need.

Flo.

Hark, Perdita.

[To CAMILLO.] I'll hear you by and by.

Cam.

He's irremovable;

Resolv'd for flight. Now were I happy, if
His going I could frame to serve my turn;
Save him from danger, do him love and honour,
Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia,

And that unhappy king, my master, whom
I so much thirst to see.

Flo.

I am so fraught with curious business, that

I leave out ceremony.

Cam.

Now, good Camillo,

[Going.

Sir, I think,

You have heard of my poor services, i' the love
That I have borne your father?

Very nobly

Flo.
Have you deserv'd: it is my father's music,
To speak your deeds; not little of his care
To have them recompens'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 direction,
(If your more ponderous and settled 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 heavens forefend, your ruin) marry her;
And (with my best endeavours in your absence)
Your discontenting father strive to qualify,
And bring him up 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.

A place whereto you'll go?

Flo.

Have you thought on

Not any yet;

But as th' unthought-on accident is guilty

To what we wildly do, so we profess

Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies

Of every wind that blows.

Cam.

Then list to me:

This follows:-if you will not change your purpose,
But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia,

And there present yourself, 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 'twere i' the father's person; kisses the hands

5 asks thee, the son, forgiveness,] The old copies of 1623 and 1632 have this passage 66 asks thee there son forgiveness." The folio of 1664 reads as in our text, which is no doubt correct.