=Percy Arundel= (_Lord Ashdale_), son of Lady Arundel, by her second husband. A hot, fiery youth, proud and overbearing. When grown to manhood, a “sea-captain” named Norman, made love to Violet, Lord Ashdale’s cousin. The young “Hotspur” was indignant and somewhat jealous, but discovered that Norman was the son of Lady Arundel by her first husband, and the heir to the title and estates. In the end, Norman agreed to divide the property equally, but claimed Violet for his bride.--Lord Lytton, _The Sea-Captain_ (1839). =Per´dita=, the daughter of the Queen Hermionê, born in prison. Her father, King Leontês, commanded the infant to be cast on a desert shore, and left to perish there. Being put to sea, the vessel was driven by a storm to the “coast” of Bohemia, and the infant child was brought up by a shepherd, who called its name Perdĭta. Flor´izel, the son of the Bohemian king, fell in love with Perdita, and courted her under the assumed name of Doriclês; but the king, having tracked his son to the shepherd’s hut, told Perdita that if she did not at once discontinue this foolery, he would command her and the shepherd too to be put to death. Florizel and Perdita now fled from Bohemia to Sicily, and being introduced to the king, it was soon discovered that Perdita was Leontês’s daughter. The Bohemian king, having tracked his son to Sicily, arrived just in time to hear the news, and gave his joyful consent to the union which he had before forbidden.--Shakespeare, _The Winter’s Tale_ (1604). _Perdita_, Mrs. Mary Robinson (born Darby), the victim of George IV., while prince of Wales. She first attracted his notice while acting the part of “Perdĭta,” and the prince called himself “Florizel.” George, prince of Wales, settled a pension for life on her, £500 a year for herself, and £200 a year for her daughter. She caught cold one winter, and losing the use of her limbs, could neither walk nor stand (1758-1799, not 1800 as is given usually). =Perdrix, toujours Perdrix!= Walpole tells us that the confessor of one of the French kings, having reproved the monarch for his conjugal infidelities, was asked what dish he liked best. The confessor replied, “Partridges;” and the king had partridges served to him every day, till the confessor got quite sick of them. “Perdrix, toujours perdrix!” he would exclaim, as the dish was set before him. After a time, the king visited him, and hoped his favorite dish had been supplied him. “Mais oui,” he replied, “toujours perdrix, toujours perdrix!” “Ah, ah!” said the amorous monarch, “and one mistress is all very well, but not _perdrix, toujours perdrix!_”--See _Notes and Queries_, 337, October 23, 1869).[TN-83] The story is at least as old as the _Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_, compiled between 1450-1461, for the amusement of the dauphin of France, afterwards Louis XI. (_Notes and Queries_, November 27, 1869).