Read it through once

PERDITA. Now Jove afford you cause! To me the difference forges dread. Your greatness Hath not been us’d to fear. Even now I tremble To think your father, by some accident, Should pass this way, as you did. O, the Fates! How would he look to see his work, so noble, Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how Should I, in these my borrow’d flaunts, behold The sternness of his presence?