Per.
Even here, undone,
I was not much afraid;^{1 note} for once or twice
I was about to speak, and tell him plainly,
The self-same sun, that shines upon his court,
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike. Wilt please you, Sir, be gone? [To Florizel.
I told you, what would come of this. 'Beseech you,
Of your own state take care:—this dream of mine,—
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,
But milk my ewes, and weep.

Cam.
Why, how now, father?
Speak, ere thou diest.

Shep.
I cannot speak, nor think,
Nor dare to know that which I know. O Sir, [To Florizel.
You have undone a man of fourscore three,^{2 note}

That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
To die upon the bed my father dy'd,
To lie close by his honest bones; but now
Some hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me
Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch! [To Perdita.
That knew'st, this was the Prince; and would'st adventure
To mingle faith with him. Undone, undone!
If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd
To die when I desire. [Exit.

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