Florizel. 
                       It cannot fail but by
The violation of my faith; and then
Let nature crush the sides o’ the earth together
And mar the seeds within!—­Lift up thy looks.—­
From my succession wipe me, father; I
Am heir to my affection.

Camillo. 
                         Be advis’d.

Florizel. 
I am,—­and by my fancy; if my reason
Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;
If not, my senses, better pleas’d with madness,
Do bid it welcome.

Camillo. 
                   This is desperate, sir.

Florizel. 
So call it:  but it does fulfil my vow: 
I needs must think it honesty.  Camillo,
Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may
Be thereat glean’d; for all the sun sees or
The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide
In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath
To this my fair belov’d:  therefore, I pray you,
As you have ever been my father’s honour’d friend
When he shall miss me,—­as, in faith, I mean not
To see him any more,—­cast your good counsels
Upon his passion:  let myself and fortune
Tug for the time to come.  This you may know,
And so deliver,—­I am put to sea
With her, whom here I cannot hold on shore;
And, most opportune to her need, I have
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar’d
For this design.  What course I mean to hold
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concern me the reporting.

Camillo. 
                          O, my lord,
I would your spirit were easier for advice,
Or stronger for your need.

Florizel. 
Hark, Perdita.—­[Takes her aside.]
[To Camillo.]I’ll hear you by and by.

Camillo. 
                              He’s irremovable,
Resolv’d for flight.  Now were I happy if
His going I could frame to serve my turn;
Save him from danger, do him love and honour;
Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia
And that unhappy king, my master, whom
I so much thirst to see.

Florizel. 
                         Now, good Camillo,
I am so fraught with curious business that
I leave out ceremony.

Camillo. 
                      Sir, I think
You have heard of my poor services, i’ the love
That I have borne your father?

Florizel. 
                               Very nobly
Have you deserv’d:  it is my father’s music
To speak your deeds; not little of his care
To have them recompens’d as thought on.

Camillo. 
                              Well, my lord,
If you may please to think I love the king,
And, through him, what’s nearest to him, which is
Your gracious self, embrace but my direction,—­
If your more ponderous and settled project
May suffer alteration,—­on mine honour,
I’ll point you where you shall have such receiving
As shall become your highness; where you may
Enjoy your mistress,—­from the whom, I see,
There’s no disjunction to be made, but by,
As heavens forfend! your ruin,—­marry her;
And,—­with my best endeavours in your absence—­
Your discontenting father strive to qualify,
And bring him up to liking.