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The Same. A Chapel in PAULINA’S House. | |
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Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, CAMILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and Attendants. | |
| Leon. O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort | |
| That I have had of thee! | |
| Paul. What, sovereign sir, | 5 |
| I did not well, I meant well. All my services | |
| You have paid home; but that you have vouchsaf’d, | |
| With your crown’d brother and these your contracted | |
| Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, | |
| It is a surplus of your grace, which never | 10 |
| My life may last to answer. | |
| Leon. O Paulina! | |
| We honour you with trouble: but we came | |
| To see the statue of our queen: your gallery | |
| Have we pass’d through, not without much content | 15 |
| In many singularities, but we saw not | |
| That which my daughter came to look upon, | |
| The statue of her mother. | |
| Paul. As she liv’d peerless, | |
| So her dead likeness, I do well believe, | 20 |
| Excels whatever yet you look’d upon | |
| Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it | |
| Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare | |
| To see the life as lively mock’d as ever | |
| Still sleep mock’d death: behold! and say ’tis well. [PAULINA draws back a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE as a statue. | 25 |
| I like your silence: it the more shows off | |
| Your wonder; but yet speak: first you, my liege. | |
| Comes it not something near? | |
| Leon. Her natural posture! | |
| Chide me, dear stone, that I may say, indeed | 30 |
| Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she | |
| In thy not chiding, for she was as tender | |
| As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina, | |
| Hermione was not so much wrinkled; nothing | |
| So aged as this seems. | 35 |
| Pol. O! not by much. | |
| Paul. So much the more our carver’s excellence; | |
| Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her | |
| As she liv’d now. | |
| Leon. As now she might have done, | 40 |
| So much to my good comfort, as it is | |
| Now piercing to my soul. O! thus she stood, | |
| Even with such life of majesty,—warm life, | |
| As now it coldly stands,—when first I woo’d her. | |
| I am asham’d: does not the stone rebuke me | 45 |
| For being more stone than it? O, royal piece! | |
| There’s magic in thy majesty, which has | |
| My evils conjur’d to remembrance, and | |
| From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, | |
| Standing like stone with thee. | 50 |
| Per. And give me leave, | |
| And do not say ’tis superstition, that | |
| I kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady, | |
| Dear queen, that ended when I but began, | |
| Give me that hand of yours to kiss. | 55 |
| Paul. O, patience! | |
| The statue is but newly fix’d, the colour’s | |
| Not dry. | |
| Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, | |
| Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, | 60 |
| So many summers dry: scarce any joy | |
| Did ever so long live; no sorrow | |
| But kill’d itself much sooner. | |
| Pol. Dear my brother, | |
| Let him that was the cause of this have power | 65 |
| To take off so much grief from you as he | |
| Will piece up in himself. | |
| Paul. Indeed, my lord, | |
| If I had thought the sight of my poor image | |
| Would thus have wrought you,—for the stone is mine,— | 70 |
| I’d not have show’d it. | |
| Leon. Do not draw the curtain. | |
| Paul. No longer shall you gaze on ’t, lest your fancy | |
| May think anon it moves. | |
| Leon. Let be, let be! | 75 |
| Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already— | |
| What was he that did make it? See, my lord, | |
| Would you not deem it breath’d, and that those veins | |
| Did verily bear blood? | |
| Pol. Masterly done: | 80 |
| The very life seems warm upon her lip. | |
| Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in ’t, | |
| As we are mock’d with art. | |
| Paul. I’ll draw the curtain; | |
| My lord’s almost so far transported that | 85 |
| He’ll think anon it lives. | |
| Leon. O sweet Paulina! | |
| Make me to think so twenty years together: | |
| No settled senses of the world can match | |
| The pleasure of that madness. Let ’t alone. | 90 |
| Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr’d you: but | |
| I could afflict you further. | |
| Leon. Do, Paulina; | |
| For this affliction has a taste as sweet | |
| As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, | 95 |
| There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel | |
| Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, | |
| For I will kiss her. | |
| Paul. Good my lord, forbear. | |
| The ruddiness upon her lip is wet: | 100 |
| You’ll mar it if you kiss it; stain your own | |
| With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? | |
| Leon. No, not these twenty years. | |
| Per. So long could I | |
| Stand by, a looker-on. | 105 |
| Paul. Either forbear, | |
| Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you | |
| For more amazement. If you can behold it, | |
| I’ll make the statue move indeed, descend, | |
| And take you by the hand; but then you’ll think,— | 110 |
| Which I protest against,—I am assisted | |
| By wicked powers. | |
| Leon. What you can make her do, | |
| I am content to look on: what to speak, | |
| I am content to hear; for ’tis as easy | 115 |
| To make her speak as move. | |
| Paul. It is requir’d | |
| You do awake your faith. Then, all stand still; | |
| Or those that think it is unlawful business | |
| I am about, let them depart. | 120 |
| Leon. Proceed: | |
| No foot shall stir. | |
| Paul. Music, awake her: strike! [Music. | |
| ’Tis time; descend; be stone no more: approach; | |
| Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come; | 125 |
| I’ll fill your grave up: stir; nay, come a way; | |
| Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him | |
| Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs: [HERMIONE comes down. | |
| Start not; her actions shall be holy as | |
| You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her | 130 |
| Until you see her die again, for then | |
| You kill her double. Nay, present your hand: | |
| When she was young you woo’d her; now in age | |
| Is she become the suitor! | |
| Leon. [Embracing her.] O! she’s warm. | 135 |
| If this be magic, let it be an art | |
| Lawful as eating. | |
| Pol. She embraces him. | |
| Cam. She hangs about his neck: | |
| If she pertain to life let her speak too. | 140 |
| Pol. Ay; and make ’t manifest where she has liv’d, | |
| Or how stol’n from the dead. | |
| Paul. That she is living, | |
| Were it but told you, should be hooted at | |
| Like an old tale; but it appears she lives, | 145 |
| Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. | |
| Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel | |
| And pray your mother’s blessing. Turn, good lady; | |
| Our Perdita is found. [Presenting PERDITA, who kneels to HERMIONE. | |
| Her. You gods, look down, | 150 |
| And from your sacred vials pour your graces | |
| Upon my daughter’s head! Tell me, mine own, | |
| Where hast thou been preserv’d? where liv’d? how found | |
| Thy father’s court? for thou shalt hear that I, | |
| Knowing by Paulina that the oracle | 155 |
| Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserv’d | |
| Myself to see the issue. | |
| Paul. There’s time enough for that; | |
| Lest they desire upon this push to trouble | |
| Your joys with like relation. Go together, | 160 |
| You precious winners all: your exultation | |
| Partake to every one. I, an old turtle, | |
| Will wing me to some wither’d bough, and there | |
| My mate, that’s never to be found again, | |
| Lament till I am lost. | 165 |
| Leon. O! peace, Paulina. | |
| Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, | |
| As I by thine a wife: this is a match, | |
| And made between’s by vows. Thou hast found mine; | |
| But how, is to be question’d; for I saw her, | 170 |
| As I thought dead, and have in vain said many | |
| A prayer upon her grave. I’ll not seek far,— | |
| For him, I partly know his mind,—to find thee | |
| An honourable husband. Come, Camillo, | |
| And take her by the hand; whose worth and honesty | 175 |
| Is richly noted, and here justified | |
| By us, a pair of kings. Let’s from this place. | |
| What! look upon my brother: both your pardons, | |
| That e’er I put between your holy looks | |
| My ill suspicion. This’ your son-in-law, | 180 |
| And son unto the king,—whom heavens directing, | |
| Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, | |
| Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely | |
| Each one demand and answer to his part | |
| Perform’d in this wide gap of time since first | 185 |
| We were dissever’d: hastily lead away. [Exeunt. | |
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