Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Winters Tale/Act 5 Scene 3

Scæna Tertia.


Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camillo,Paulina: Hermione (like a Statue:) Lords, &c.

Leo. O graue and good Paulina, the great comfort

That I haue had of thee? }}
Paul. What (Soueraigne Sir)I did not well, I meant well: all my SeruicesYou haue pay'd home. But that you haue vouchsaf'd(With your Crown'd Brother, and these your contractedHeires of your Kingdomes) my poore House to visit;It is a surplus of your Grace, which neuerMy life may last to answere.
Leo. O Paulina,We honor you with trouble: but we cameTo see the Statue of our Queene. Your GallerieHaue we pass'd through, not without much contentIn many singularities; but we saw notThat which my Daughter came to looke vpon,The Statue of her Mother.
Paul. As she liu'd peerelesse,So her dead likenesse I doe well beleeueExcells what euer yet you look'd vpon,Or hand of Man hath done: therefore I keepe itLouely, apart. But here it is: prepareTo see the Life as liuely mock'd, as euerStill Sleepe mock'd Death: behold, and say 'tis well.I like your silence, it the more shewes-offYour wonder: but yet speake, first you (my Liege)Comes it not something neere?
Leo. Her naturall Posture.Chide me (deare Stone) that I may say indeedThou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she,In thy not chiding: for she was as tenderAs Infancie, and Grace. But yet (Paulina)Hermione was not so much wrinckled, nothingSo aged as this seemes.
Pol. Oh, not by much.
Paul. So much the more our Caruers excellence,Which lets goe-by some sixteene yeeres, and makes herAs she liu'd now.
Leo. As now she might haue done,So much to my good comfort, as it isNow piercing to my Soule. Oh, thus she stood,Euen with such Life of Maiestie (warme Life,As now it coldly stands) when first I woo'd her.I am asham'd: Do's not the Stone rebuke me,For being more Stone then it? Oh Royall Peece:There's Magick in thy Maiestie, which ha'sMy Euils coniur'd to remembrance; andFrom thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits,Standing like Stone with thee.
Perd. And giue me leaue,And doe not say 'tis Superstition, thatI kneele, and then implore her Blessing. Lady,Deere Queene, that ended when I but began,Giue me that hand of yours, to kisse.
Paul. O, patience:The Statue is but newly fix'd; the Colour'sNot dry.
Cam. My Lord, your Sorrow was too sore lay'd-on,Which sixteene Winters cannot blow away,So many Summers dry: scarce any IoyDid euer so long liue; no Sorrow,But kill'd it selfe much sooner.
Pol. Deere my Brother,Let him, that was the cause of this, haue powreTo take-off so much griefe from you, as heWill peece vp in himselfe.
Paul. Indeed my Lord,If I had thought the sight of my poore ImageWould thus haue wrought you (for the Stone is mine)Il'd not haue shew'd it.
Leo. Doe not draw the Curtaine.
Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, least your FancieMay thinke anon, it moues.
Leo. Let be, let be:Would I were dead, but that me thinkes alreadie.(What was he that did make it?) See (my Lord)Would you not deeme it breath'd? and that those veinesDid verily beare blood?
Pol. 'Masterly done:The very Life seemes warme vpon her Lippe.
Leo. The fixure of her Eye ha's motion in't,As we are mock'd with Art.
Paul. Ile draw the Curtaine:My Lord's almost so farre transported, thatHee'le thinke anon it liues.
Leo. Oh sweet Paulina,Make me to thinke so twentie yeeres together:No setled Sences of the World can matchThe pleasure of that madnesse. Let't alone.
Paul. I am sorry (Sir) I haue thus farre stir'd you: butI could afflict you farther.
Leo. Doe Paulina:For this Affliction ha's a taste as sweetAs any Cordiall comfort. Still me thinkesThere is an ayre comes from her. What fine ChizzellCould euer yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,For I will kisse her.
Paul. Good my Lord, forbeare:The ruddinesse vpon her Lippe, is wet:You'le marre it, if you kisse it; stayne your owneWith Oyly Painting: shall I draw the Curtaine.
Leo. No: not these twentie yeeres.
Perd. So long could IStand-by, a looker-on.
Paul. Either forbeare,Quit presently the Chappell, or resolue youFor more amazement: if you can behold it,Ile make the Statue moue indeed; descend,And take you by the hand: but then you'le thinke(Which I protest against) I am assistedBy wicked Powers.
Leo. What you can make her doe,I am content to looke on: what to speake,I am content to heare: for 'tis as easieTo make her speake, as moue.
Paul. It is requir'dYou doe awake your Faith: then, all stand still:On: those that thinke it is vnlawfull BusinesseI am about, let them depart.
Leo. Proceed:No foot shall stirre.
Paul. Musick; awake her: Strike:'Tis time: descend: be Stone no more: approach:Strike all that looke vpon with meruaile: Come:Ile fill your Graue vp: stirre: nay, come away:Bequeath to Death your numnesse: (for from him,Deare Life redeemes you) you perceiue she stirres:Start not: her Actions shall be holy, asYou heare my Spell is lawfull: doe not shun her,Vntill you see her dye againe; for thenYou kill her double: Nay, present your Hand:When she was young, you woo'd her: now, in age,Is she become the Suitor?
Leo. Oh, she's warme:If this be Magick, let it be an Art Lawfull as Eating.
Pol. She embraces him.
Cam. She hangs about his necke,If she pertaine to life, let her speake too.
Pol. I, and make it manifest where she ha's liu'd,Or how stolne from the dead?
Paul. That she is liuing,Were it but told you, should be hooted atLike an old Tale: but it appeares she liues,Though yet she speake not. Marke a little while:Please you to interpose (faire Madam) kneele,And pray your Mothers blessing: turne good Lady,Our Perdita is found.
Her. You Gods looke downe,And from your sacred Viols poure your gracesVpon my daughters head: Tell me (mine owne)Where hast thou bin preseru'd? Where liu'd? How foundThy Fathers Court? For thou shalt heare that IKnowing by Paulina, that the OracleGaue hope thou wast in being, haue preseru'dMy selfe, to see the yssue.
Paul. There's time enough for that,Least they desire (vpon this push) to troubleYour ioyes, with like Relation. Go togetherYou precious winners all: your exultationPartake to euery one: I (an old Turtle)Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and thereMy Mate (that's neuer to be found againe)Lament, till I am lost.
Leo. O peace Paulina:Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,As I by thine a Wife. This is a Match,And made betweene's by Vowes. Thou hast found mine,But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her(As I thought) dead: and haue (in vaine) said manyA prayer vpon her graue. Ile not seeke farre(For him, I partly know his minde) to finde theeAn honourable husband. Come Camillo,And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honestyIs richly noted: and heere iustifiedBy Vs, a paire of Kings. Let's from this place.What? looke vpon my Brother: both your pardons,That ere I put betweene your holy lookesMy ill suspition: This your Son-in-law,And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directingIs troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,Leade vs from hence, where we may leysurelyEach one demand, and answere to his partPerform'd in this wide gap of Time, since firstExeunt.We were disseuer'd: Hastily lead away.