Leon. Whilst I remember

Her, and her virtues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them; and so still think of
The wrong I did myself: which was so much,
That heirless it hath made my kingdom; and
Destroy'd the sweet'st companion, that e'er man
Bred his hopes out of.

Paul. True, too true, my lord:

If, one by one, you wedded all the world,—
Or, from the all that are, took something good,
To make a perfect woman;-she, you kill'd,
Would be unparallel'd.

Leon. I think so.-Kill'd!

She I kill'd

I did so: but thou strikest me

Sorely, to say I did:

Now, good now,

Say so but seldom.

Cleo. Not at all, good lady:

You might have spoken a thousand things, that would Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd

Your kindness better.

Paul. You are one of those,
Would have him wed again.
Cleo. If you would not so,

You pity not the state, nor the remembrance
Of his most sovereign name; consider little,
What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue,
May drop upon his kingdom, and devour
Incertain lookers-on.

Paul. The gods

Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes:
For has not the divine Apollo said,

That King Leontes shall not have an heir

Till his lost child be found? which, that it shall,
Is all as monstrous to our human reason,
As my Antigonus to break his grave,
And come again to me; who, on my life,
Did perish with the infant.

Leon. Good Paulina,

Who hast the memory of Hermione,
I know, in honour,-O, that ever I

Had squar'd me to thy counsel! then, even now,
I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes;
Have taken treasure from her lips,-

Paul. And left them

More rich for what they yielded.

Leon. Thou speak'st truth.

No more such wives; therefore, no wife:
I'll have no wife, Paulina.

Paul. Will you swear

Never to marry, but by my free leave?

Leon. Never, Paulina; so be bless'd my spirit! Paul. Then, good my lord, bear witness to his

oath.

Cleo. You tempt him over-much.

Paul. I have done.

Yet,-if my lord will marry,

Give me the office

To chuse you a queen, sir; and she shall be such,
As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy
To see her in your arms.

Enter PHOCION.

Pho. One, that gives out himself prince Florizel, Son of Polixenes, with his princess, (she

The fairest I have yet beheld,) desires access

To your high presence.

Leon. What with him? he comes not
Like to his father's greatness: his approach,
So out of circumstance, and sudden, tells us,
'Tis not a visitation fram'd, but forc'd
By need, and accident. What train?

Pho. But few,

And those but mean.

Leon. His princess, say you, with him?

Pho. Ay; the most peerless piece of earth, I think, That e'er the sun shone bright on.

Leon. Go, Cleomenes;

Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends,

Bring them to our embracement.—

Still, 'tis strange,

[Exeunt PHOCION and CLEOMEnes.

He thus should steal upon us.

Paul. Had our prince,

(Jewel of children!) seen this hour, he had pair'd Well with this lord; there was not full a month Between their births.

Leon. 'Pr'ythee, no more; 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.

Enter CLEOMEN ES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and ATTENDANTS.

Most dearly welcome, prince!

And your fair princess,-goddess!

Most welcome, sir!-Were I but twenty-one,
Your father's image is so hit in you,

His

very air, that I should call

As I did him.

you brother,

Flo. Great sir, by his command

Have I here touch'd Sicilia; and from him

Give you all greetings, that a king, at friend,

Can send his brother;

Whom he loves

More than all the sceptres,

And those that bear them, living.

Leon. O, my brother,

(Good gentleman!) the wrongs I have done thee, stir Afresh within me.

Welcome hither,

As is the spring to the earth!—And hath he too
Expos'd this paragon to the fearful usage

(At least, ungentle,) of the dreadful Neptune,
To greet a man, not worth her pains; much less
The adventure of her person?

Flo. Good my lord,

She came from Libya.

Leon. Where the warlike Smalus,

That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd, and lov'd?

Flo. Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter

His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her:
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.

Leon. The blessed gods

Purge all infection from our air, whilst you

Do climate here!

What might I have been,

Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on,

Such goodly things as you!

[A Trumpet sounds.]

Enter ARCHIDAMUS, attended.

Arch. 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.

Leon. Where's Bohemia? speak.

Arch. Here in your city; I now came from him. To your court

Whiles he was hast'ning, (in the chase

Of this fair couple,) meets he on the

The father of this seeming lady, and

way

Her brother, having both their country quitted
With this young prince.

Flo. Camillo has betray'd me;

Whose honour and whose honesty, till now,

Endur'd all weathers.

Arch. He's with the king your father.

Leon. Who? Camillo ?

Arch. Camillo, sir, who now

Has these poor men in question.

Per. O, my poor father!

The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.

Leon. You are married?

Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first. Leon. My lord,

Is this the daughter of a king?

Flo. She is,

When once she is my wife.

Leon. That once, I see, by your good father's speed, Will come on very slowly. I am 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,

Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month