That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty: violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,

The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack
To make you garlands of; and my sweet friend
To strew him o'er and o'er.

FLORIZEL.

What! like a corse?

PERDITA.

No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on ;

Not like a corse: or if,-not to be buried,
But quick, and in mine arms!

This love of truth, this conscientiousness, which forms so distinct a feature in the character of Perdita, and mingles with its picturesque delicacy a certain firmness and dignity, is maintained consistently to the last. When the two lovers fly together from Bohemia, and take refuge in the court of Leontes, the real father of Perdita, Flo

rizel presents himself before the king with a feigned tale, in which he has been artfully instructed by the old counsellor Camillo. During this scene, Perdita does not utter a word. In the strait in which they are placed, she cannot deny the story which Florizel relates; she will not confirm it. Her silence, in spite of all the compliments and greetings of Leontes, has a peculiar and characteristic grace; and at the conclusion of the scene, when they are betrayed, the truth bursts from her as if instinctively, and she exclaims with emotion,

The heavens set spies upon us-will not have
Our contract celebrated.

After this scene, Perdita says very little. The description of her grief, while listening to the relation of her mother's death, and of her deportment as she stands gazing on the statue of Hermione, fixed in wonder, admiration, and sorrow, as if she too were marble—

O royal piece!

There's magic in thy majesty, which has

From thy admiring daughter ta'en the spirits,

Standing like stone beside thee!

are touches of character conveyed indirectly, and

which serve to give a more finished effect to this beautiful picture.

This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever

Ran on the green sward; nothing she does, or seems,
But smacks of something greater than herself;

Too noble for this place.

Her natural loftiness of spirit breaks out where she is menaced and reviled by the King as one whom his son has degraded himself by merely looking on; she bears the royal frown without quailing; but the moment he is gone, the immediate recollection of herself, and of her humble state, of her hapless love, is full of beauty, tenderness, and nature:

Even here undone !

I was not much afeard: 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 all alike.

Will 't please you, Sir, be gone?

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 further,
But milk my ewes, and weep.

How often have I told you 'twould be thus!

How often said, my dignity would last

But till 't were known!

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.

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 thee, my fair beloved!

Perdita has another characteristic, which lends to the poetical delicacy of the delineation a certain strength and moral elevation, which is peculiarly striking. It is that sense of truth and rectitude, that upright simplicity of mind which disdains all crooked and indirect means, which would not stoop for an instant to dissemblance, and is mingled with a noble confidence in her love and in her lover. In this spirit is her answer to Camillo, who says, courtier-like,