THE WINTER'S TALE. Sidney Lee

dead; and have, in vain, said many

       A prayer upon her grave. I’ll not seek far,—

       For him, I partly know his mind,—to find thee

       An honourable husband.—Come, Camillo,

       And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty

       Is richly noted, and here justified

       By us, a pair of kings.—Let’s from this place.—

       What! look upon my brother:—both your pardons,

       That e’er I put between your holy looks

       My ill suspicion.—This your son-in-law,

       And son unto the king, whom heavens directing,

       Is troth-plight to your daughter.—Good Paulina,

       Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely

       Each one demand, and answer to his part

       Perform’d in this wide gap of time, since first

       We were dissever’d: hastily lead away!

       [Exeunt.]

       THE END