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To load my She 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 abufe, and call this

Your lack of Love, or Bounty, you were straited
For a Reply at leaft, if you make a Care
Of happy holding her.

Flo. Old Sir, I know

She prizes not fuch Trifles as thefe 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 breath my Life
Before this ancient Sir, who, it should feem
Hath fometime lov'd. I take thy Hand, this Hand,
As foft as Dove's Down, and as white as it,
Or Ethiopians Tooth, or the fan'd Snow,
That's bolted by th' Northern Blaft, twice o'er.
Pol. What follows this?

How prettily the young Swain feems to wash
The Hand, was fair before! I have put you out;
But to your Proteftation: Let me hear

What you profefs.

Flo. Do, and be witness to't.

Pol. And this my Neighbour too?

Flo. And he, and more

Than he, and Men; the Earth, and Heav'ns, and all; moft

That were I crown'd th Imperial Monarch

Thereof moft worthy; were I the fairest Youth
That ever made Eye fwerve, 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 fpeak.

So well, nothing fo well, no, nor mean better.

VOL. II.

I i

By

By the Pattern of my mine own Thoughts, I cut out
The Purity of his.

Shep. Take Hands, a Bargain;

And Friends unknown, you fhall bear witnefs 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 thefe Witneffes.

Shep. Come, your hand;

And, Daughter, yours.

Pol. Soft, Swain, 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 Son, a Gueft

That beft 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 fpeak? Hear ?

Know Man from Man? Difpute 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 fo, a wrong
Something unfilial: Reafon my Son

Shoud chufe himself a Wife, but as good reason
The Father (all whofe Joy is nothing else
But fair Pofterity) fhould hold fome Counsel
In fuch a Bufinefs.

Flo. I yield all this;

But for fome other Reafons, my grave Sir,
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My Father of this Business.

Pol.

Pol. Let him know't.

Fle. He fhall not.

Pol. Prethee let him.

Fle. No; he must not.

Shep. Let him, my Son, he fhall not need to grieve, At knowing of thy Choice.

Flo. Come, come, he muft not:

Mark our Contract.

Pol. Mark your Divorce, young Sir, [Difcovering himself. Whom Son I dare not call: Thou art too bafe

To be acknowledg'd. Thou a Scepter's Heir,

That thus affects a Sheep-hook? Thou old Traytor,

I am forry that by hanging thee, I can

But fhorten thy Life one Week. And thou fresh Piece
Of excellent Witchcraft, who of force must know
The Royal Fool thou coap'ft 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 doft but figh,

That thou no more fhalt fee this Knack, as never
I mean thou fhalt, we'll bar thee from Succeffion,
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,
Tho' full of our Displeasure, 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,
Unworthy thee; if ever, henceforth, thou
Thefe rural Latches to his entrance open,
Or hope his Body more, with thy Embraces,
I will devife a Death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to it.

Per. Even here undone :

I was not much afraid; for once or twice
I was about to fpeak, and tell him plainly,
The felf-fame Sun that fhines upon his Court,
Hides not his Vifage from our Cottage, but

[Exit.

Looks on alike. Wilt please you, Sir, be gone? [To Flo.

Flo. Now, good Camillo,

I am fo 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 deferv'd: It is my Father's Mufick
To speak your Deeds; not little of his care
To have them recompenc'd, as thought on.
Cam. Well, my Lord,

If you may pleafe to think I love the King,
And through him, what's neareft to him, which is
Your gracious felf, embrace but my direction,
If your more ponderous and fetled Project
May fuffer alteration: On mine Honour,

I'll point you where you shall have fuch receiving
As fhall become your Highness, where you may
Enjoy your Mistress; from the whom, I fee,
There's no disjunction to be made, but by
(As Heav'ns forefend) your Ruin. Marry her,
And with my beft Endeavours, in your abfence,
Your discontented Father strive to qualifie,
And bring to liking.

Flo. How, Camillo,

May this, almoft a Miracle, be done?

That I may call thee fomething more than Man,
And after that truft 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, fo we profess

Our felves to be the Slaves of Chances, and Flies

Of every Wind that blows.

Cam. Then lift to me:

Tais follows, if you will not change your purpose,

But undergo this Flight; make for Sicilia,

And there present your felf, and your fair Princefs, (For fo I fee fhe muft be) 'fore Leontes;

She

She shall be habited, as it becomes

The Partner of your Bed. Methinks I fee
Leontes opening his free Arms, and weeping

His Welcomes forth; asks thee, the Son, forgiveness,
As 'twere i'th' Father's Perfon; kiffes the Hands
Of
your
fresh Princess; o'er and o'er divides him,
'Twixt his unkindness, and his kindness: th'one
He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
Fafter than Thought or Time.
Flo. Worthy Camillo,

What colour for my Vifitation fhall 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, fhall deliver,
Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down,
The which shall point you forth at every fitting
What you
muft fay, that he fhall not perceive,
But that you have your Father's Bofom there,
And speak his very Heart.

Flo. I am bound to you :

There is fome Sap in this.

Cam. A courfe more promifing,

Than a wild Dedication of your felves

To unpath'd Waters, undream'd Shores; moft certain,
To Miferies enough: No hope to help you,
But as you shake off one, to take another :
Nothing fo certain, as your Anchors, who
Do their best Office, if they can but stay you,
Where you'll be loath to be: Befides, you know,
Profperity's the very Bond of Love,

Whose fresh Complexion, and whofe Heart together,
Affliction alters.

Per. One of these is true:

I think Affliction may fubdue the Check,

But not take in the Mind.

Cam. Yea, fay you fo?

There fhall not at your Father's House, these feven Years, Be born another fuch.

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