Pol. Methinks, a father

Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest

That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more;
Is not your father grown incapable

Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid

With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak? hear?
Know man from man? dispute his own estate?

Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing,

But what he did being childish?

Flo.
No, good sir;
He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed,

Than most have of his age.

Pol.

By my white beard, You offer him, if this be so, a wrong

Something unfilial: Reason, my son

Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason,
The father (all whose joy is nothing else

But fair posterity) should hold some counsel
In such a business.

Flo.

I yield all this;

But, for some other reasons, my grave sir,
Which 't is not fit you know, I not acquaint
My father of this business.

Pol.

Let him know 't.

Flo. He shall not.

Pol.

Prithee, let him.

Flo.

No, he must not.

Shep. Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice.

Flo.

Mark our contract.

Pol.

Come, come, he must not:

Mark your divorce, young sir,

[Discovering himself.

Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base
To be acknowledg'd: Thou a sceptre's heir,

That thus affect'st a sheephook!-Thou old traitor,

I am sorry, that, by hanging thee, I can

But shorten thy life one week.-And thou, fresh piece
Of excellent witchcraft, who, of force, must know
The royal food thou cop'st with ;-

Shep.

O, my

heart!

Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briars, and made More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, If I may ever know thou dost but sigh

That thou no more shalt never see this knack, (as never
I mean thou shalt,) we'll bar thee from succession;
Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin,

Far than Deucalion off.-Mark thou my words;
Follow us to the court.-Thou churl, for this time,
Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it.-And you, enchantment,
Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too,
That makes himself, but for our honour therein,
Unworthy thee,—if ever, henceforth, thou
These rural latches to his entrance open,
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee
As thou art tender to 't.

Per.
Even here undone !
I was not much afeard: for once, or twice,
I was about to speak; and tell him plainly,
The self-same sun that shines upon his court
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but

[Exit.

Looks on alike.-Will 't please you, sir, be gone? [to FLO.
I told you what would come of this: 'Beseech you,
Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,
But milk my ewes, and weep.

III.

ACT V.-SCENE III.-A Room in Paulina's House in Sicily.

Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, CAMILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and Attendants.

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

Paul.

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;

The double negative is characteristic of Shakspere's time

It is a surplus of your grace, which never
My life may last to answer.

Leon.

O Paulina,

We honour you with trouble: 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.

Paul.

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, 't is well.

[PAULINA undraws a curtain and discovers a statue. I like your silence, it the more shows off

Your wonder: But yet speak;-first, you, my liege.
Comes it not something near?

Leon.

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.

Pol. O, not by much.

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

Leon.
As now she might have done,
So much to my good comfort, as it is

Now piercing to my soul. O, 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 ?-O, royal piece,
There's magic 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 't is 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.

Paul.

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.

Dear my brother,

Pol.
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.

Paul.

Indeed, my lord, If I had thought the sight of my poor image Would thus have wrought you (for the stone is mine), I'd not have show'd it.

Leon.

Do not draw the curtain.

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on 't; lest your fancy May think anon it moves.

Leon.

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.

Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in 't,

As we are mock'd with art.

Paul.

I'll draw the curtain;

My lord's almost so far transported that
He'll think anon it lives.

Make me to think so twenty years together;

No settled senses of the world can match

The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone.

Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but I could afflict you further.

Leon.
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 chisel
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
For I will kiss her.

Paul.

Good my lord, forbear:
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet;

You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own
With oily painting: Shall I draw the curtain?
Leon. No, not these twenty years.

Per.

So long could I

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.

Leon.

What you can make her do,
I am content to look on: what to speak,
I am content to hear; for 't is as easy

To make her speak, as move.

Paul.

It is requir'd

You do awake your faith: Then, all stand still:
On: Those that think it is unlawful business

I am about, let them depart.

Leon.

No foot shall stir.

Proceed;

Paul.
Music; awake her: strike.-
'Tis time; descend; be stone no more: approach;
Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come;
I'll fill your grave up: stir; nay, come away;
Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him
Dear life redeems you.-You perceive she stirs ;

[Music.

[HER. comes down from the pedestal.

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,
Is she become the suitor!

Leon.

O, she's warm!

[Embracing her.

a The image of Paulina was a painted statue.

b On. We understand this as, let us go on. The king immediately

adds "Proceed."