Cleomines.
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 your self.

Leo.
Whilst I remember
Her and her virtues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them, and so still think of
The wrong I did my self; which was so much,
That heir-less it hath made my kingdom, and
Destroy'd the sweetest companion that e'er man
Bred his hopes out of.

Pau.
True, too true, my lord,
If one by one you wedded all the world,
Or from them all that are took something good,
To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd,
Would be unparallel'd.

Leo.
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.

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

Pau.
You are one of those
Would have him wed again.

Dio.
If you would not so,
You pity not the state, nor the remembrance

Of his most sovereign name; consider, little,
What dangers (by his highness' fail of issue)
May drop upon his kingdom, and devour
Incertain lookers on. What were more holy,
For present comfort, and for future good,
To bless the bed of majesty again,
With a sweet fellow to't?

Pau.
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 tenor of his oracle,
The 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.‡ ^{note note}

Leo.
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!

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

Leo.
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 corps, and on this stage,
(Where we offend her now) appear soul-vext,
And begin, why to me?

Pau.
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 to hear me, and the words that follow'd,
Should be, remember mine.

Leo.
Stars, stars,
And all eyes else, dead coals: fear thou no wife:
I'll have no wife, Paulina.

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

Leo.
Never, Paulina, so be bless'd my spirit.

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

Cleo.
You tempt him over-much.

Pau.
Unless another,
As like Hermione as is her picture,
Affront his eye.

Cleo.
Good madam, pray, have done.

Pau.
Yet, if my lord will marry; if you will, Sir;
No remedy, but you will; give me the office
To chuse you a queen; she shall be such,
As walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy,
To see her in your arms.

Leo.
My true Paulina,
We shall not marry, 'till thou bid'st us.

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

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

Leo.
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 framed, but forc'd,
By need and accident. What train?

Ser.
But few,
And those but mean.

Leo.
His princess, say you, with him?

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

Pau.
Oh Hermione,
As every present time doth boast it self
Above a better, gone; so must thy grave
Give way to what's seen now. Sir, you yourself
Have said, and writ so; but your writing now
Is colder than that theme. [To the Serv.

Leo.
Go, Cleomines;
Your self (assisted with your honour'd friends)
Bring them to our embracement. Still 'tis strange
He thus should steal upon us. [Exit Cle.

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

Leo.
Pr'ythee no more; thou know'st
He dies to me again, when talk'd of:
They are come. Enter Florizel, Perdita in rich attire, Cleomines, and others.
Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince.
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 your fair princess: Goddess, oh! alas!
I lost a couple, that 'twixt heav'n 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
(Tho' bearing misery) I desire my life
Once more to look on.

Flo.
By his command
Have I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him
Give you all greetings, that a king and friend
Can send his brother.

Leo.
Oh my brother!
Good gentleman, the wrongs I have done thee, stir

Afresh within me. Welcome hither,
As is the spring to th' earth.
The blessed gods
Purge all infection from our air, whilst you
Do climate here. 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,
Bithynia 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.

Leo.
Where's Bithynia! speak.

Lord.
Here in your city; I now came from him.§ ^note
I speak amazedly, and it becomes
My marvel, and my message: to your court
Whilst he was hasting, 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'st so to his charge;
He's with the king your father.

Leo.
Who? Camillo?

Lord.
Camillo, Sir, I spake with him, who now
Has these poor men in question. Never saw I
Wretches so quake; they kneel, they kiss the earth;
Forswear themselves as often as they speak:
Bithynia stops his ears, and threatens them
With divers deaths, in death.

Per.
Oh my poor father,
The heav'n which sets spies on us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.

Leo.
You are marry'd?

Flo.
We are not, Sir, nor are we like to be;
The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first.

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

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

Leo.
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 ty'd in duty; and as sorry
Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty,
That you might well enjoy her.

Flo.
Beseech you, Sir,
Remember since you ow'd no more to time
Than I do now; with thought of such affections,
Step forth mine advocate; at your request,
My father will grant precious things, as trifles.

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

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

Leo.
I thought of her,
Even in these looks I made. But your petition
Is yet unanswer'd; I will to your father; [To Flor.
Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires,
I'm 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. Enter Autolicus, 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 seem'd 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 look'd as if they had heard of a world ransom'd, or one destroy'd; a notable passion of wonder appear'd in them

Here comes the lord Camillo, he can deliver you more. How goes it now, Sir? this news which is call'd true, is so like an old tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion. Has the king found his heir?

Cam.

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, which nature shews 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.

Cam.

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, that it seem'd 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. 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, Oh, thy mother, thy mother! then asks Bithynia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter, with clipping her. Now he thanks the old shepherd, who stands by, like a weather-beaten conduit of many kings reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to do it.

2 Gent.

What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carry'd hence the child?

Cam.

Like an old tale still, he was torn to pieces with a bear; this avouches the shepherd's son, who has not only his innocence, which seems much to justifie him, but a handkerchief and rings of his, that Paulina knows.

1 Gent.

What became of his bark, and his followers?

Cam.

Wreckt, 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 oh the noble combat, that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina. She had one eye declin'd for the loss of her husband, another elevated that the oracle was fulfill'd. 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.

Cam.

One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angled for mine eyes, was, when at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner how she came to it, bravely confess'd, 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, changed colour; some swooned, all sorrowed; if all the world could have seen't, the woe had been universal.

1 Gent.

Are they returned to the court?

Cam.

No. The princess hearing of her mother's statue, which is in the keeping of Paulina, a piece many years in doing, and now newly perform'd, thither with all greediness of affection are they gone.

2 Gent.

I thought she had some great matter there in hand, for she hath privately twice or thrice a-day, ever since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall we thither, and with our company piece the rejoicing?

Cam.

Who would be thence, that has the benefit of access? every wink of an eye, some new grace will be born.

Leo.
O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort
That I have had of thee!

Pau.
What, sovereign Sir,
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
My life may last to answer.

Leo.
O Paulina,
We honour you with troubles; but we came
To see the statue of our queen. Your gallery
Have we pass'd through, not without much content,
In many singularities; but we saw not

That which my daughter came to look upon,
The statue of her mother.

Pau.
As she liv'd peerless,
So her dead likeness I do well believe,
Excels whatever yet you look'd upon,
Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it
Lovely, 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 a curtain, and discovers Hermione standing like a statue.† ^note
I like your silence, it the more shews off
Your wonder; but yet speak; first you, my liege,
Comes it not something near?

Leo.
Her natural posture!
Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed,
Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she,
In thy not chiding; for she was as tender,
As infancy and grace.
Oh, 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,
For being more stone than it? oh royal piece!
There's magick in thy majesty, which has
My evils conjur'd to remembrance; and
From thy admiring daughter took the spirits,
Standing like stone with thee.

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.

Pau.
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,
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
To take off so much grief from you, as he
Will piece up in himself.

Pau.
Indeed, my lord,
If I had thought the sight of my poor image,
Would thus have wrought you,
I'd not have shew'd you it.

Leo.
Do not draw the curtain.

Pau.
No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy
May think, anon, it move.

Leo.
Let be, let be;
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!
The very life seems warm upon her lip.

Leo.
The fixure of her eye has motion in't,
As we were mock'd with art.

Pau.
I'll draw the curtain.
My lord's almost so far transported, that
He'll think anon it lives.

Leo.
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.

Pau.
I'm sorry, Sir, I have thus far stirr'd you; but
I could afflict you further.

Leo.
Do, Paulina;
For this affliction has a taste as sweet,
As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks,

There is an air comes from her. What fine chizzel
Could ever yet cut breath? let no man mock me,
For I will kiss her.‡ ^note

Pau.
Good my lord, forbear;
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet;
You'll marr it, if you kiss it;
Shall I draw the curtain?

Leo.
No, not these twenty years.

Per.
So long could I
Stand by a looker-on.

Pau.
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,
Which I protest against, I am assisted
By wicked powers.

Leo.
What you can make her do,
I am content to look on; what to speak,
I am content to hear; for 'tis as easie
To make her speak, as move.

Pau.
It is requir'd
You do awake your faith, then all stand still;
And those that think it is unlawful business
I am about, let them depart.

Leo.
Proceed;
No foot shall stir.

Pau.
Musick, awake her; strike, [Musick.
'Tis time, descend; be stone no more; approach,
Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come,
Nay come away. [Hermione comes down.
Start not, her actions shall be holy, as
You hear my spell is lawful; do not shun her,
Until you see her die again, for then
You kill her double.

Leo.
Oh she's warm, [Embracing her.
If this be magick, let it be an art
Lawful as eating.* ^note

Pol.
She embraces him.

Cam.
She hangs about his neck,
If she pertain to life, let her speak too.

Pau.
That she is living,
Where it but told you, should be hooted at
Like an old tale; but it appears she lives,
Tho' 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 Herm.

Her.
You gods, look down,
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?

Pau.
There's a time enough for that;
Lest they desire, upon this push, to trouble
Your joys with like relation. Go together,
You precious winners all, your exultation
Partake to every one; I, an aged 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.

Leo.
O peace, Paulina,
Thou must partake our bliss. Be a king's gratitude
A holy charm to witch inquietude,
From all thy hours to come! my royal brother,
Join here with me, and my redeem'd Hermione,
(O! how those eyes reproach me! pardon, pardon,
That ere I put between your holy looks,
My ill suspicions! join with us to bless
These comforts of our age. [Flor. and Per. kneel.

Pol.
Deign, gracious heaven,
To ratify this benediction, given
By our imperial breath.

Leo.
Stand forth, Hermione,
A shining proof that innocence can bear
Affliction's sharpest tortures, unimpair'd;
And from the trial to the wond'ring sight,
Come forth more pure, more amiably bright.* ^note

Coriolanus.