Page 831 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

But milk my ewes, and weep.

CAMILLO
Why, how now, father!
Speak ere thou diest.

SHEPHERD
I cannot speak, nor think, [445]
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 died,
To lie close by his honest bones: but now [450]

Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me
Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch,
That knew’st this was the prince, and wouldst adventure
To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone!

If I might die within this hour, I have liv’d [455]
To die when I desire.
Exit.

FLORIZEL
Why look you so upon me?

I am but sorry, not afeard; delay’d,
But nothing alter’d: what I was, I am;
More straining on for plucking back; not following
My leash unwillingly.

CAMILLO
Gracious my lord, [460]

You know your father’s temper: at this time
He will allow no speech (which, I do guess,
You do not purpose to him) and as hardly
Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear:

Then, till the fury of his highness settle, [465]
Come not before him.

FLORIZEL