Cleo.
Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd
A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make,
Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down
More penitence, than done trespass: At the last,
Do, as the heavens have done; forget your evil;
With them, forgive yourself.

Leon.
Whilst I remember
Her, and her virtues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them; and so still think of
The wrong I did myself: which was so much,
That heirless it hath made my kingdom; and
Destroy'd the sweet'st companion, that e'er man
Bred his hopes out of.

Paul.
True, too true, my lord^{7 note}

Leon.
I think so. Kill'd!
She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strik'st me

Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter
Upon thy tongue, as in my thought: Now, good now,
Say so but seldom.

Cleo.
Not at all, good lady:
You might have spoken a thousand things that would
Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd
Your kindness better.

Paul.
You are one of those,
Would have him wed again.

Dion.
If you would not so,
You pity not the state, nor the remembrance
Of his most sovereign dame; consider little,
What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue,
May drop upon his kingdom, and devour
Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy,
Than to rejoice, the former queen is well^{9 note}

Paul.
There is none worthy,
Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods
Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes:
For has not the divine Apollo said,

Is't not the tenour of his oracle,
That king Leontes shall not have an heir,
Till his lost child be found? which, that it shall,
Is all as monstrous to our human reason,
As my Antigonus to break his grave,
And come again to me; who, on my life,
Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel,
My lord should to the heavens be contrary,
Oppose against their wills.—Care not for issue; [To Leontes.
The crown will find an heir: Great Alexander
Left his to the worthiest; so his successor
Was like to be the best.

Leon.
Good Paulina,—
Who hast the memory of Hermione,
I know, in honour,—O, that ever I
Had squar'd me to thy counsel!—then, even now,
I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes;
Have taken treasure from her lips,—

Paul.
And left them
More rich, for what they yielded.

Leon.
Thou speak'st truth.
No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one worse,
And better us'd, would make her sainted spirit
Again possess her corpse; and, on this stage
(Where we offenders now appear), soul-vex'd,
Begin, And why to me^{1 note}

Paul.
Had she such power,
She had just cause^{2 note}

Leon.
She had; and would incense me^{3 note}


To murder her I married.

Paul.
I should so:
Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you mark
Her eye; and tell me, for what dull part in't

You chose her: then I'd shriek, that even your ears
Shou'd rift^{4 note}
to hear me; and the words that follow'd
Should be, Remember mine.

Leon.
Stars, stars^{5 note}

Paul.
Will you swear
Never to marry, but by my free leave?

Leon.
Never, Paulina; so be bless'd my spirit!

Paul.
Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.

Cleo.
You tempt him over-much.

Paul.
Unless another,
As like Hermione as is her picture,
Affront his eye^{6 note}

Cleo.
Good madam,—

Paul.
I have done^{7 note}.
Yet, if my lord will marry,—if you will, sir,
No remedy, but you will; give me the office
To choose you a queen: she shall not be so young
As was your former; but she shall be such,

As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy
To see her in your arms.

Leon.
My true Paulina,
We shall not marry, till thou bidd'st us.

Paul.
That
Shall be, when your first queen's again in breath;
Never till then. Enter a Gentleman.

Gent.
One that gives out himself prince Florizel,
Son of Polixenes, with his princess, (she
The fairest I have yet beheld,) desires access
To your high presence.

Leon.
What with him? he comes not
Like to his father's greatness: his approach,
So out of circumstance, and sudden, tells us,
'Tis not a visitation fram'd, but forc'd
By need, and accident. What train?

Gent.
But few,
And those but mean.

Leon.
His princess, say you, with him?

Gent.
Ay; the most peerless piece of earth, I think,
That e'er the sun shone bright on.

Paul.
O Hermione,
As every present time doth boast itself
Above a better, gone; so must thy grave
Give way to what's seen now^{8 note}
. Sir, you yourself
Have said and writ so^{9 note}
, (but your writing now

Is colder than the theme^{1 note},) She had not been,
Nor was not to be equall'd;—thus your verse
Flow'd with her beauty once; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,
To say, you have seen a better.

Gent.
Pardon, madam:
The one I have almost forgot; (your pardon,)
The other, when she has obtain'd your eye,
Will have your tongue too. This is a creature^{2 note},
Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal
Of all professors else; make proselytes
Of who she but bid follow.

Paul.
How? not women?

Gent.
Women will love her, that she is a woman
More worth than any man; men, that she is
The rarest of all women.

Leon.
Go, Cleomenes;
Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends,
Bring them to our embracement.—Still 'tis strange, [Exeunt Cleomenes, Lords, and Gentleman.
He thus should steal upon us.

Paul.
Had our Prince,
(Jewel of children,) seen this hour, he had pair'd
Well with this lord; there was not full a month
Between their births.

Leon.
Pr'ythee, no more; cease; thou know'st^{3 note}

He dies to me again, when talk'd of: sure,
When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches
Will bring me to consider that, which may
Unfurnish me of reason.—They are come.— Re-enter Cleomenes, with Florizel, Perdita, and Attendants.
Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince;
For she did print your royal father off,
Conceiving you: Were I but twenty-one,
Your father's image is so hit in you,
His very air, that I should call you brother,
As I did him; and speak of something, wildly
By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome!
And you fair princess, goddess!—O, alas!
I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth
Might thus have stood, begetting wonder, as
You, gracious couple, do! and then I lost
(All mine own folly,) the society,
Amity too, of your brave father; whom,
Though bearing misery, I desire my life
Once more to look on him^{4 note}

Flo.
By his command
Have I here touch'd Sicilia: and from him
Give you all greetings, that a king, at friend^{5 note}

Leon.
O, my brother,
(Good gentleman!) the wrongs I have done thee, stir
Afresh within me; and these thy offices,
So rarely kind, are as interpreters
Of my behind-hand slackness!—Welcome hither,
As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too
Expos'd this paragon to the fearful usage
(At least, ungentle,) of the dreadful Neptune,
To greet a man, not worth her pains; much less
The adventure of her person?

Flo.
Good my lord,
She came from Libya.

Leon.
Where the warlike Smalus,
That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd, and lov'd?

Flo.
Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter
His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her^{6 note}

Leon.
The blessed gods^{7 note}

For which the heavens, taking angry note,
Have left me issueless; and your father's bless'd,
(As he from heaven merits it,) with you,
Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,
Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on,
Such goodly things as you? Enter a Lord.

Lord.
Most noble sir,
That, which I shall report, will bear no credit,
Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir,
Bohemia greets you from himself, by me:
Desires you to attach his son; who has
(His dignity and duty both cast off,)
Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
A shepherd's daughter.

Leon.
Where's Bohemia? speak.

Lord.
Here in the city; I now came from him:
I speak amazedly; and it becomes
My marvel, and my message. To your court
Whiles he was hast'ning (in the chase, it seems,
Of this fair couple,) meets he on the way
The father of this seeming lady, and
Her brother, having both their country quitted
With this young prince.

Flo.
Camillo has betray'd me;
Whose honour, and whose honesty, till now,
Endur'd all weathers.

Lord.
Lay't so, to his charge;
He's with the king your father.

Leon.
Who? Camillo?

Lord.
Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now
Has these poor men in question^{9 note}. Never saw I
Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth;

Forswear themselves as often as they speak:
Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them
With divers deaths in death.

Per.
O, my poor father!—
The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.

Leon.
You are married?

Flo.
We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;
The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first:—
The odds for high and low's alike^{1 note}.

Leon.
My lord,
Is this the daughter of a king?

Flo.
She is,
When once she is my wife.

Leon.
That once, I see, by your good father's speed,
Will come on very slowly. I am sorry,
Most sorry, you have broken from his liking,
Where you were tied in duty: and as sorry,
Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty^{2 note}

Flo.
Dear, look up:
Though fortune, visible an enemy,
Should chase us, with my father; power no jot
Hath she, to change our loves.—'Beseech you, sir,
Remember since you ow'd no more to time^{3 note}

Than I do now: with thought of such affections,
Step forth mine advocate; at your request,
My father will grant precious things, as trifles.

Leon.
Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mistress,
Which he counts but a trifle.

Paul.
Sir, my liege,
Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month
'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes
Than what you look on now.

Leon.
I thought of her,
Even in these looks I made.—But your petition [To Florizel.
Is yet unanswer'd: I will to your father;
Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires,
I am a friend to them, and you: upon which errand
I now go toward him; therefore, follow me,
And mark what way I make: Come, good my lord. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The Same. Before the Palace. Enter Autolycus and a Gentleman.

Aut.

'Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation?

1 Gent.

I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it: whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all commanded out of the chamber; only this, methought I heard the shepherd say, he found the child.

Aut.

I would most gladly know the issue of it.

1 Gent.

I make a broken delivery of the business;— But the changes I perceived in the king,

and Camillo, were very notes of admiration: they seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: A notable passion of wonder appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if the importance were joy, or sorrow^{4 note}: but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be.

2 Gent.

Nothing but bonfires: The oracle is fulfilled; the king's daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour, that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it.

Here comes the lady Paulina's steward; he can deliver you more.—How goes it now, sir? this news, which is called true, is so like an old tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion: Has the king found his heir?

3 Gent.

Most true; if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance: that, which you hear, you'll swear you see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle of queen Hermione:—her jewel about the neck of it:—the letters of Antigonus, found with it, which they know to be his character:—the majesty of the creature, in resemblance of the mother; —the affection of nobleness^{5 note}

above her breeding,—and many other evidences, proclaim her, with all certainty, to be the king's daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings?

2 Gent.

No.

3 Gent.

Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy crown another; so, and in such manner^{6 note}, that, it seemed, sorrow wept to take leave of them; for their joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands; with countenance of such distraction, that they were to be known by garment, not by favour^{7 note}
. Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter; as if that joy were now become a loss, cries, O, thy mother, thy mother! then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter, with clipping her^{8 note}

; now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by, like a weather-bitten^{9 note}

many king's reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to do it^{1 note}

2 Gent.

What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the child?

3 Gent.

Like an old tale still; which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and not an ear open: He was torn to pieces with a bear: this avouches the shepherd's son; who has not only his innocence (which seems much,) to justify him, but a handkerchief, and rings, of his, that Paulina knows.

1 Gent.

What became of his bark, and his followers?

3 Gent.

Wrecked, the same instant of their

master's death; and in the view of the shepherd: so that all the instruments, which aided to expose the child, were even then lost, when it was found. But, O, the noble combat, that, 'twixt joy and sorrow, was fought in Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband; another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled: She lifted the princess from the earth; and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin her to her heart, that she might no more be in danger of losing.

1 Gent.

The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes; for by such was it acted.

3 Gent.

One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angled for mine eyes (caught the water, though not the fish,) was, when at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner how she came to it, (bravely confessed, and lamented by the king,) how attentiveness wounded his daughter: till, from one sign of dolour to another, she did, with an alas! I would fain say, bleed tears; for, I am sure, my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there^{2 note}