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PERDITA. [_To Polixenes._] Sir, welcome. It is my father’s will I should take on me The hostess-ship o’ the day. [_To Camillo._] You’re welcome, sir. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, For you there’s rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you both! And welcome to our shearing!