Here a Dance of twelve Satyrs.

Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter. Is it not too far gone? 'tis time to part them;

He's fimple, and tells much.-How now, fair fhepherd Your heart is full of fomething, that doth take

Your mind from feafting. Sooth, when I was young,
And handed love, as you do, I was wont

To load my fhe with knacks: I would have ranfack'd
The pedler's filken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance; you have let him go,

*

And nothing marted with him. If your lafs
Interpretation fhould abuse and call this

Your lack of love or bounty; you were ftraited
For a reply, at leaft, if you make care
Of happy holding her.

Flo. Old Sir, I know,

She prizes not fuch trifles as these are;

The gifts, fhe looks from me, are packt and lockt
Up in my heart, which I have given already,
But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my love
Before this ancient Sir, who, it fhould feem,
Hath fometime lov'd. I take thy hand, this hand,
As foft as dove's down, and as white as it,
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd fnow

That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er.
Pol. What follows this?

How prettily the young fwain feems to wash
The hand, was fair before! I've put you out;
But, to your proteftation: let me hear

What you profefs.

Flo Do, and be witnefs to't.

Pol. And this my neighbour too?20x

Flo. And he, and more

Than he, and men; the earth, and heav'ns, and all; That were I crown'd the most imperial monarch

Thereof moft worthy, were I the fairest youth

That ever made eye fwerve, had force and knowledge More than was ever man's, I would not prize them Without her love; for her imploy them all;

Commend

L

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 fpeak

So well, nothing fo well, no, nor mean better:
By th' pattern of 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 portion equal his.

Flo. O, that must be

I'th' virtue of your daughter; one being dead,
I fhall have more than you can dream of yet,
Enough then for your wonder: but come on,
Contract us 'fore these witneffes.

Shep. Come, your hand,

And, daughter, yours.

Pol. Soft, fwain, a-while; 'befeech you,

Have you a father?

Flo. I have; but what of him?..

Pol. Knows he of this?

Flo. He neither does, nor fhall..

Pol. Methinks, a father

Is, at the nuptial of his fon, a gueft

That beft becomes the table: 'pray you once more,
Is not your father grown incapable

Of reafonable affairs? is he not ftupid

1

With age, and alt'ring rheums? can he fpeak? hear?
Know man from man? difpute his own.eftate?
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 ftrength, indeed,.
Than moft have of his age.

Pol. By my white beard,

You offer him, if this be so, a wrong

Some

Something unfilial: Reafon, my fon

Should chufe himself a wife; but as good reafon,
The father (all whofe joy is nothing else

But fair pofterity) fhould hold fome counfel
In fuch a business.

Flo. I yield all this;

But for fome other reasons, my grave Sir,
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My father of this business.

Pal. Let him know't.

Flo. He fhall not.

Pol. Pr'ythee, 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,

[Difcovering bimfelf Whom fon I dare not call: thou art too base To be acknowledg'd. Thou a fcepter's heir, That thus affect'ft a fheep-hook! Thou old traytor, I'm forry, 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'ft with

Shep. O my heart!

Pol. I'll have thy beauty fcratch'd with briars, and

made

More homely than thy ftate. For thee, fond boy,
If I may ever know thou doft but figh

That thou no more fhalt see this knack, as never
I mean thou fhalt, we'll bar thee from fucceffion
Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin,
Far than Deucalion off: mark thou words;
my
Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time,
Tho' full of our difpleasure, yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it: and you, enchantment,
Worthy enough a herdfman; yea him too,
That makes himself, but for our honour therein,

Un

Unworthy thee; if ever, henceforth, thou
These rural latches to his entrance open,
Or hoope his body more with thy embraces,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to it.

Per. Even here undone :

[Exit

I was not much afraid; for once or twice
I was about to speak, and tell him plainly,
The felf-fame fun, that shines upon his court,
Hides not his vifage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike. Wilt please you, Sir, be gone?
[To Florizel.
I told you, what would come of this. 'Beseech you,
Of your own ftate take care; this dream of mine,
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,
But milk my ewes, and weep.

Cam. Why, how now, father?

Speak, ere thou dieft.

Shep. I cannot fpeak, nor think,

Nor dare to know That which I know. O Sir,

You have undone a man of fourscore three,
That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
To die upon the bed my father dy'd,

To lye close by his honeft bones; but now

[To Florizel,

Some hangman muft put on my fhrowd, and lay me
Where no priest shovels in duft. O curfed wretch !

[Te Perdita. That knew'ft, This was the Prince; and would't ad

venture

To mingle faith with him. Undone, undone !

If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I defire.

Flo. Why look you fo upon me?

I am but forry, not afraid; delay'd,

But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am;

[Exit

More ftraining on, for plucking back; not following
My leafh unwillingly.

Cam. Gracious my Lord,

You know your father's temper: at this time

He

He will allow no fpeech, (which I do guefs,
You do not purpose to him;) and as hardly
Will he endure your fight, as yet I fear;
Then, 'till the fury of his Highness settle,
Come not before him.

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 faid, 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 fides o'th' earth together,
And mar the feeds within!-Lift up thy looks f
From my fucceffion 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 reafon ;
If not my fenfes, 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 honefty. Camillo,
Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may
Be thereat glean'd; for all the fun fees, or
The clofe earth wombs, or the profound feas 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 myfelf and fortune

Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And fo deliver, I am put to fea

With her, whom here I cannot hold on fhore;
And, moft opportune to our need, I have
A veffel rides faft by, but not prepar'd
For this defign. What courfe I mean to hold

Shall