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

Leontes.
Whilst I remember
Her, and her virtues; whilst I gaze upon
This pretty abstract of Hermione,
So truly printed off, I can't forget
My blemishes in them.

Paulina.
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
Wou'd be unparallel'd.

Leontes.
I think so—kill'd!
Kill'd! 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.

Paulina.
Touch'd to th' noble heart!
What, my dear sovereign, I said not well;
I meant well, pardon; then, a foolish woman—
The love I bore your queen—lo, fool again!—
I'll speak of her no more.

Leontes.
Ah, good Paulina,
Who hast the memory of Hermione,
I know in honour; O that ever I
Had squar'd me to thy counsel; then, ev'n now,
I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes,
Ta'en treasure from her lips!

Paulina.
All my poor service
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.

Polixenes.
Oh, Paulina,
We honor you with trouble; but your gall'ry
Have we pass'd thro', not without much content
In many singularities, yet we saw not
That which you bad us here to look upon,
The statue of Hermione.

Paulina.
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
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. [She draws a curtain, and discovers Hermione standing like a statue.
I like your silence, it the more shews off
Your wonder; but yet speak; first you, my liege,
Comes it not something near?

Leontes.
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; but yet, Paulina,
Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing
So aged as this seems.

Polixenes.
O, not by much.

Paulina.
So much the more our carver's excellence,
Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes her
As she liv'd now.

Leontes.
As now she might have done,
So much to my good comfort, as it is
Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood;
Ev'n with such life of majesty, (warm life,
As now it coldly stands) when first I woo'd her.
I am asham'd—O royal piece!
There's magic in thy majesty, which has
My evils conjur'd to remembrance, and

From my admiring daughter ta'en the spirits,
Standing like stone with thee. (Bursts into tears.

Perdita.
And give me leave,
And do not say 'tis superstition, that
I kneel, and then implore her blessing.

Florizel.
Rise not yet;
I join me in the same religious duty;
Bow to the shadow of that royal dame,
Who, dying, gave my Perdita to life,
And plead an equal right to blessing.

Leontes.
O master-piece of art! nature's deceiv'd
By thy perfection, and at every look
My penitence is all afloat again. [Weeps.

Cleomines.
My lord, your sorrow was too sore lay'd 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.

Polixenes.
Dear my brother,
Let him that was the cause of this, have pow'r
To take off so much grief from you, as he
Will piece up in himself.

Perdita.
Let Perdita
Put up her first request, that her dear father
Have pity on her rather, nor let sorrow
Second the stroke of wonder.

Paulina.
Indeed, my lord,
If I had thought the sight of my poor image

Wou'd thus have wrought you, (for the stone is mine)
I'd not have shewn it.

Leontes.
Do not draw the curtain.

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

Leontes.
Let be, let be;
Wou'd I were dead, but that, methinks, already—
What was he that made it? see, see, my lord,
Wou'd you not deem it breath'd; and that those veins
Did verily bear blood?

Polixenes.
Masterly done!
The very life seems warm upon her lip.

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

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

Leontes.
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.

Paulina.
I'm sorry, Sir, I've thus far stirr'd you; but
I cou'd afflict you further.

Leontes.
Do, Paulina,
For this affliction has a taste as sweet

As any cordial comfort; still, methinks,
There is an air come from her: what fine chissel
Cou'd ever yet cut breath? let no man mock me,
For I will kiss it.

Paulina.
Good my lord, forbear;
The ruddiness upon her lips is wet;
You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own
With oily painting—shall I draw the curtain?

Leontes.
No, not these twenty years.

Perdita.
So long cou'd I
Stand by, a looker-on.

Florizel.
So long cou'd I
Admire her royal image stampt on thee,
Heiress of all her qualities.

Paulina.
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.

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

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

Leontes.
Proceed;
No foot shall stir.

Paulina.
Music, awake her—strike—
'Tis time; descend—be stone no more—approach;
Strike all that look on you with marvel! [Music; during which she comes down.

Leontes. (Retiring.)
Heav'nly pow'rs!

Paulina, to Leontes.
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; nay, present your hand;
When she was young, you woo'd her; now in age
She is become your suitor.

Leontes.
Support me, gods!
If this be more than visionary bliss,
My reason cannot hold: my wife! my queen!
But speak to me, and turn me wild with transport
I cannot hold me longer from those arms;
She's warm! she lives!

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

Perdita.
O Florizel! [Perdita leans on Florizel's bosom.

Florizel.
My princely shepherdess!
This is too much for hearts of thy soft mold.

Leontes.
Her beating heart meets mine, and fluttering owns
Its long-lost half: these tears that choak her voice
Are hot and moist—it is Hermione! [Embrace.

Polixenes.
I'm turn'd myself to stone! where has she liv'd?
Or how so stolen from the dead?

Paulina.
That she is living,
Were it but told you, shou'd be hooted at
Like an old tale; but it appears she lives,
Tho' yet she speak not. Mark them yet a little.
'Tis past all utterance, almost past thought;
Dumb eloquence beyond the force of words.
To break the charm,
Please you to interpose; fair madam, kneel,
And pray your mother's blessing, turn, good lady,
Our Perdita is found, and with her found
A princely husband, whose instinct of royalty,
From under the low thatch where she was bred,
Took his untutor'd queen.

Hermione.
You gods, look down,
And from your sacred phials pour your graces
Upon their princely heads!

Leontes.
Hark! hark! she speaks—
O pipe, thro' sixteen winters dumb! then deem'd
Harsh as the raven's note; now musical
As nature's song, tun'd to th' according spheres.

Hermione.
Before this swelling flood o'er-bear our reason,
Let purer thoughts, unmix'd with earth's alloy,
Flame up to heav'n, and for its mercy shewn,
Bow we our knees together.

Leontes.
Oh! if penitence
Have pow'r to cleanse the foul sin-spotted soul,
Leontes' tears have wash'd away his guilt.
If thanks unfeign'd be all that you require,

Most bounteous gods, for happiness like mine,
Read in my heart, your mercy's not in vain.

Hermione.
This firstling duty paid, let transport loose,
My lord, my king,—there's distance in those names,
My husband!

Leontes.
O my Hermione!—have I deserv'd
That tender name?

Hermione.
No more; be all that's past
Forgot in this enfolding, and forgiven.

Leontes.
Thou matchless saint!—Thou paragon of virtue!

Perdita.
O let me kneel, and kiss that honor'd hand.

Hermione.
Thou Perdita, my long-lost child, that fill'st
My measure up of bliss—tell me, mine own,
Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd! how found
Bohemia's court? for thou shalt hear, that I
Knowing, by Paulina, that the oracle
Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserv'd
Myself to see the issue.

Paulina.
There's time enough
For that, and many matters more of strange
Import—how the queen escap'd from Sicily,
Retir'd with me, and veil'd her from the world—
But at this time no more; go, go together,
Ye precious winners all, your exultation
Pertake to ev'ry 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.

Leontes.
No, no, Paulina;
Live bless'd with blessing others—my Polixenes! [Presenting Polixenes to Hermione.
What? look upon my brother: both your pardons,
That e'er I put between your holy looks
My ill suspicion—come, our good Camillo,
Now pay thy duty here—thy worth and honesty
Are richly noted, and here justified
By us a pair of kings; and last, my queen,
Again I give you this your son-in-law,
And son to this good king by heav'n's directing
Long troth-plight to our daughter. Leontes, Hermione, and Polixenes join their hands.

Perdita.
I am all shame
And ignorance itself, how to put on
This novel garment of gentility,
And yield a patch'd behaviour, between
My country-level, and my present fortunes,
That ill becomes this presence. I shall learn,
I trust I shall with meekness—but I feel,
(Ah happy that I do) a love, an heart
Unalter'd to my prince, my Florizel.

Florizel.
Be still my queen of May, my shepherdess,
Rule in my heart; my wishes be thy subjects,
And harmless as thy sheep.

Leontes.
Now, 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
We were dissever'd—then thank the righteous gods,
Who, after tossing in a perilous sea,
Guide us to port, and a kind beam display,
To gild the happy evening of our day. FINIS.

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