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- II. v. 2—36
# The Play of
King. Knights, from my daughter this I let you know,
That for this twelve-month, shee’le not undertake
A maried life: her reason to her felfe is onely knowne,
Which from her, by no meanes can I get.
2. Knight. May we nor get accelfe to her (my Lord?)
king. Fayth, by no meanes, she hath fo strictly
Tyed her to her Chamber, that t’is impossible:
One twelve Moones more shee’le weare Dianas liuerie:
This by the eye of Custhya hath she-vowed,
And on her Virgin honour, will not breake it.
3. knight. Loth to bid farewell, we take our leaues.
king. So, they are well dispatcht:
Now to my daughters Letter, she telles me heere;
Shee’le wedde the stranger Knight,
Or neuer more to view nor day nor light.
T’is well Miftris, your choyce agrees with mine:
I like that well: nay how absolute she’s in’t,
Not minding whether I dislike or no.
Well, I do commend her choyce, and will no longer
Haue it be delayed: Soft, heere he comes,
I must dissemble it.
# Enter Pericle.
Peri. All fortune to the good Symmidae.
King. To you as much: Sir, I am behoulding to you
For your sweet Muficke this last night:
I do protest, my eares were neuer better fedde
With such delightfull pleasing harmonie.
Peri. It is your Graces pleasure to commend,
Not my desert.
king. Sir, you are Mufickes maifter.
Peri. The worst of all her schollers (my good Lord.)
king. Let me aske you one thing:
What do you thinke of my Daughter, sir?
Peri. A most vertuous Princefse.
king. And she is faire too, is she not?
Peri. As afaire day in Sommer: woondrous faire.
king.
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