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Page 53
FLORIZEL.
Most royal sir, from thence; from him whose daughter
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.
LEONTES.
The bless�d gods
Purge all infection from our air whilst you
Do climate here! You have a holy 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.]
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.
LEONTES.
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 hast'ning,--in the chase, it seems,
Of this fair couple,--meets he on the way
The father of this seeming lady and
Her brother, having both their country quitted
With this young prince.
FLORIZEL.
Camillo has betray'd me;
Whose honour and whose honesty, till now,
Endur'd all weathers.
LORD.
Lay't so to his charge;
He's with the king your father.
LEONTES.
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.
PERDITA.
O my poor father!--
The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.
LEONTES.
You are married?
FLORIZEL.
We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;
The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first:--
The odds for high and low's alike.
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