O Proserpina! For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall From Dis's wagon! daffodils, 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, Florizel 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,-- "One of the prettiest touches of all, was, when at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner how she came by it, how attentiveness wounded her daughter: till from one sign of dolor to another, she did, with an _alas_! I would fain say, bleed tears:"-- her deportment too 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. VIOLA.