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Well with this lord : there was not full a month
Between their births.

Leon. Pr’ythee, no more: cease! thou know'st,
He dies to me again, when talk'd of : sure,
When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches
Will bring me to consider that, which may
Unfurnish me of reason.—They are come.-

Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince,
For she did print your royal father off,
Conceiving you.

Were I but twenty-one,
Your father's image is so hit in you,
His very air, that I should call you brother,
As I did him; and speak of something, wildly
By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome!
And your fair princess, goddess !-0, alas !
I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth
Might thus have stood, begetting wonder as,
You, gracious couple, do. And then I lost
(All mine own folly) the society,
Amity too, of your brave father; whom,
Though bearing misery, I desire my life
Once more to look on him.

By his command
Have I here touch'd Sicilia ; and from him
Give you all greetings, that a king, as' friend,
Can send his brother; and, but infirmity
(Which waits upon worn times) hath something seiz'd
His wish'd ability, he had himself
The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his
Measur'd to look upon you, whom he loves
(He bade me say so) more than all the sceptres,
And those that bear them, living.

O, my brother!
Good gentleman, the wrongs I have done thee stir
Afresh within me; and these thy offices,
So rarely kind, are as interpreters
Of my behind-hand slackness.—Welcome hither,
As is the spring to th' earth. And hath he, too,
Expos'd this paragon to the fearful usage
(At least ungentle) of the dreadful Neptune,

1 Old copies : at; as, is the MS. emendation of Lord F. Egerton's folio, 1623

To greet a man not worth her pains, much less
Th’ adventure of her person ?

Good, my lord,
She came from Libya.

Where the warlike Smalus,
That noble, honour'd lord, is feard, and lov'd ?
Flo. Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose

His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her : thence
(A prosperous south-wind friendly) we have cross’d,
To execute the charge my father gave me,
For visiting your highness. My best train
I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd,
Who for Bohemia bend, to signify,
Not only my success in Libya, sir,
But my arrival, and my wife's, in safety
Here, where we are.

The blessed gods
Purge all infection from our air, whilst you
Do climate here! You have a noble' father,
A graceful gentleman, against whose person,
So sacred as it is, I have done sin;
For which the heavens, taking angry note,
Have left me issueless; and your father's bless'd
(As he from heaven merits it) with you,
Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,
Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on,
Such goodly things as you ?

Enter a Lord.

Most noble sir,
That which I shall report will bear no credit,
Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir,
Bohemia greets you from himself by me;
Desires you to attach his son, who has
(His dignity and duty both cast off)
Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
A shepherd's daughter.

Where's Bohemia ? speak.
Lord. Here in your city; I now came from him :
I speak amazedly, and it becomes
My marvel, and my message. To your court
Whiles he was hastening (in the chase, it seems,
Of this fair couple) meets he on the way

1 holy: in f.e.

The father of this seeming lady, and
Her brother, having both their country quitted
With this young prince.

Camillo has betray'd me,
Whose honour, and whose honesty, till now,
Endur'd all weathers.

Lay't so to his charge :
He's with the king your father.

Who ? Camillo ?
Lord. Camillo, sir : I spake with him, who now
Has these poor men in question. Never saw I
Wretches so quake : they kneel, they kiss the earth,
Forswear themselves as often as they speak :
Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them
With divers deaths in death.

O, my poor father!
The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.

You are married ?
Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;
The stars,


will kiss the valleys first :
The odds for high and low 's alike.

My lord,
Is this the daughter of a king ?

When once she is my wife.
Leon. That



see, by your good father's speed, Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, Most sorry, you have broken from his liking, Where you were tied in duty; and as sorry, Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, That you might well enjoy her. Flo.

Dear, look up : Though fortune, visible an enemy, Should chase us with my father, power no jot Hath she to change our loves.-Beseech you, sir, Remember since you ow'd no more to time Than I do now; with thought of such affections, Step forth mine advocate : at your request, My father will grant precious things as trifles. Leon. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mis

tress, Which he counts but a trifle. Paul.

Sir, my liege,

She is,

Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month
Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes
Than what you look on now.

I thought of her,
Even in these looks I made.-But your petition

(To FLORIZEL. Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father: Your honour not o’erthrown by your desires, I am a friend to them, and you; upon which errand I now go toward him. Therefore, follow me, And mark what way I make. Come, good my lord.

(Exeunt. SCENE II.—The Same. Before the Palace.

Enter AUTOLYCUS and a Gentleman. Aut. Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation ?

1 Gent. I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it: whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all commanded out of the chamber; only this, methought I heard the shepherd say, he found the child.

Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it.

1 Gent. I make a broken delivery of the business; but the changes I perceived in the king, and Camillo, were very notes of admiration : they seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture ; they looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed. A notable passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if the importance were joy, or sorrow, but in the extremity of the one it must needs be.

Enter another Gentleman. Here comes a gentleman, that, haply, knows more.The news, Rogero ?

2 Gent. Nothing but bonfires. The oracle is ful. filled ; the king's daughter is found : such deal of wonder is broken out within this hour, that balladmakers cannot be able to express it.

Enter a third Gentleman. Here comes the lady Paulina's steward : he can deliver you more.--How goes it now, sir? This news, which

Vol. III.--34


is called true, is so like an old tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion. Has the king found his heir ?

3 Gent. Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance: that which you hear, you ’ll swear you see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle of queen Hermione ;-her jewel about the neck of it;the letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know to be his character ;—the majesty of the creature, in resemblance of the mother ;—the affection of nobleness, which nature shows above her breeding, and many other evidences, proclaim her with all certainty to be the king's daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings ?

2 Gent. No.

3 Gent. Then you have lost a sight, which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy crown another; so, and in such manner, that, it seemed, sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their joy waded'in tears. There was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands, with co enance of such distraction, that they were to be known by garment, not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter, as that joy were now become a loss, cries, “O, thy mother, thy mother !" then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter with clippinga her: now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by, like a weather-beaten conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to show it.

2 Gent. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the child ?

3 Gent. Like an old tale still, which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and not an ear open. He was torn to pieces with a bear: this avouches the shepherd's son, who has not only his innocence (which seems much) to justify him, but a handkerchief, and rings of his that Paulina know's.

1 Gent. What became of his bark, and his followers ?

3 Gent. Wrecked, the same instant of their master's death, and in the view of the shepherd : so that all the

- Embracing 3 weather-bitten: in f. e.

4 do :

1 Countenance. in f. e.

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