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 sweet'st companion, that e'er man(30) ^note


Bred his hopes out of.

Pau.
True, too true, my lord;
If one by one you wedded all the world,
Or, from the 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?
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 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,
Than to rejoice, the former Queen is well?
What holier, than for Royalty's repair,
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,
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 heav'ns be contrary;
Oppose against their wills.—Care not for issue; [To the King.
The Crown will find an heir. Great Alexander
Left his to th' Worthiest; so his Successor
Was like to be the best.

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(31) ^note



Again possess her corps; and on this stage,
(Where we offend Her now) appear soul-vext,
And begin, Why to me?—

Pau.
Had she such power,
She had just such cause.

Leo.
She had, and would incense me
To murther her I married.

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 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.

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 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.

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

Gent.
But few,
And those but mean.

Leo.
His Princess, say you, with him?

Gent.
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 your self
Have said, and writ so; but your writing now
Is colder than that Theme; she had not been,
Nor was she to be equall'd; thus your verse
Flow'd with her beauty once; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,
To say, you've 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,

Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal
Of all professors else, make proselites
Of who she but bid follow.

Pau.
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.

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 Cleo.

Pau.
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.

Leo.
Pr'ythee, no more; cease; thou know'st,
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. Enter Florizel, Perdita, Cleomines, and others.
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,
As your fair Princess, Goddess:—oh! alas!
I lost a Couple, that 'twixt heav'n and earth(32) ^note

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.
Sir, by his Command
Have I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him
Give you all Greetings, that a King, (at friend)
Can send his brother; and but infirmity,
Which waits upon worn times, hath something seiz'd
His wish'd ability, he had himself
The lands and waters 'twixt your Throne and his
Measur'd, to look upon you; whom he loves,
He bad me say so, more than all the Scepters,
And Those that bear them living.

Leo.
Oh, 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 th' Earth. And hath he too
Expos'd this Paragon to th' fearful usage
(At least, ungentle) of the dreadful Neptune,
To greet a man, not worth her pains; much less,
Th' adventure of her person?

Flo.
Good my lord,
She came from Libya.

Leo.
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; thence
(A prosperous south-wind friendly) we have cross'd,
To execute the charge my father gave me,
For visiting your Highness; my best train
I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd,
Who for Bohemia bend, to signifie
Not only my success in Libya, Sir,

But my arrival, and my wife's, in safety
Here, where we are.

Leo.
The blessed Gods
Purge all infection from our Air, whilst you
Do climate here! You have a holy father,
A graceful gentleman, against whose person,
So sacred as it is, I have done sin;
For which the Heavens, taking angry note,
Have left me issue-less; 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.

Leo.
Where's Bohemia? speak.

Lord.
Here in your City; I now came from him.
I speak amazedly, and it becomes
My marvel, and my message: to your Court
Whilst he was hastning, 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.

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:
Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them
With divers deaths, in death.

Per.
Oh, my poor father!
The Heav'n sets spies upon 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;
The odds for high and low's alike.

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,(33) ^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
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.
Would 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 [To Florizel.
Is yet unanswer'd; I will to your father;
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. Scene 2 SCENE, near the Court in Sicily. 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, me-thought, 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 they had heard of a world ransom'd, or one destroy'd; a notable passion of wonder appear'd in them; but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say if th' importance were joy or sorrow; but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be.

Enter another Gentleman.

Here comes a gentleman, that, happily, knows more: the news, Rogero?

2 Gent.

Nothing but bonfires: the Oracle is fulfill'd; 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 call'd 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, 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.

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, 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 Bohemia 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 King's 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?

3 Gent.

Like an old Tale still, which will have matters to rehearse, tho' 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 justifie him, but a handkerchief and rings of his, that Paulina knows.

1 Gent.

What became of his bark, and his followers?

3 Gent.

Wrackt 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.

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 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?

3 Gent.

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 by (34) ^notethat rare Italian master, Julio Romano; who, had he himself Eternity, and could put breath into his Work, would beguile Nature of her Custom, so perfectly he is her ape: He so near to Hermione hath done Hermione, that they say, one would speak to her, and stand in hope of answer. Thither with all greediness of affection are they gone, and there they intend to sup.

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 rejoycing?

1 Gent.

Who would be thence, that has the benefit of access? every wink of an eye, some new grace will be born: our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let's along.

Aut.

Now had not I the dash of my former life in me, would Preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his son aboard the Prince; told him, I heard them talk of a fardel, and I know not what; but he at that time, over-fond of the shepherd's daughter (so he then took her to be) who began to be much sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of weather continuing, this mystery remained undiscover'd. But 'tis all one to me; for had I been the finder out of this Secret, it would not have relished among my other discredits.

Here come those I have done good to against my will,

and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune.

Shep.

Come, boy, I am past more children; but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born.

Clo.

You are well met, Sir; you denied to fight with me this other day, because I was no gentleman born: see you these cloaths? say, you see them not, and think me still no gentleman born. You were best say, these robes are not gentlemen born. Give me the lie; do, and try whether I am not now a gentleman born.

Aut.

I know you are now, Sir, a gentleman born.

Clo.

Ay, and have been so any time these four hours.

Shep.

And so have I, boy.

Clo.

So you have; but I was a gentleman born before my father; for the King's son took me by the hand, and call'd me brother; and then the two Kings call'd my father brother; and then the Prince my brother, and the Princess my sister, call'd my father, father, and so we wept; and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed.

Shep.

We may live, son, to shed many more.

Clo.

Ay, or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are.

Aut.

I humbly beseech you, Sir, to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your Worship, and to give me your good report to the Prince, my master.

Shep.

'Pry'thee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen.

Clo.

Thou wilt amend thy life?

Aut.

Ay, and it like your good Worship.

Clo.

Give me thy hand; I will swear to the Prince, thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia.

Shep.

You may say it, but not swear it.

Clo.

Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? let boors and franklins say it, I'll swear it.

Shep.

How if it be false, son?

Clo.

If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend: and I'll swear to the Prince, thou art a tall fellow of thy hands, and

that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know, thou art no tall fellow of thy hands; and that thou wilt be drunk; but I'll swear it; and, I would, thou would'st be a tall fellow of thy hands.

Aut.

I will prove so, Sir, to my power.

Clo.

Ay, by any means to prove a tall fellow; if I do not wonder how thou dar'st venture to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark, the Kings and the Princes, our kindred, are going to see the Queen's Picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy good masters.