Per. O Doricles,
Your praises are too large: but that your youth,
And the true blood which [peeps] fairly through 't,
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd,
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
You woo'd me the false way.
Flo. I think you have
As little skill [to fear] as I have purpose
To put you to't. But come; our dance, I pray:
Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,