POLIXENES.
Knows he of this?
FLORIZEL.
He neither does nor shall.
POLIXENES.
Methinks a father
Is at the nuptial of his son a guest
That best becomes the table. Pray you once more,
Is not your father grown incapable
Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid
With age and alt’ring rheums? can he speak? hear?
Know man from man? dispute his own estate?
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing
But what he did being childish?
FLORIZEL.
No, good sir;
He has his health, and ampler strength indeed
Than most have of his age.
POLIXENES.
By my white beard,
You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
Something unfilial: reason my son
Should choose himself a wife, but as good reason
The father, all whose joy is nothing else
But fair posterity, should hold some counsel
In such a business.
FLORIZEL.
I yield all this;
But for some other reasons, my grave sir,
Which ’tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My father of this business.
POLIXENES.
Let him know ’t.
FLORIZEL.
He shall not.
POLIXENES.
Prithee let him.
FLORIZEL.
No, he must not.