The Winter's Tale

SCENE II. Sicilia. Before the palace of LEONTES

Enter AUTOLYCUS and a GENTLEMAN

 
  AUTOLYCUS. Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. 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.
  AUTOLYCUS. I would most gladly know the issue of it.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. 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 destroyed. A notable passion of
wonder
    appeared 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?
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. 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.
Enter another GENTLEMAN
    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?
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. 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's; 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 shows 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?
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. No.
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. Then you have 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 'O,
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, which stands by like a
    weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard
of
    such another encounter, which lames report to follow it and
    undoes description to do it.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that
carried
    hence the child?
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. 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. FIRST GENTLEMAN. What became of his bark and his followers? THIRD GENTLEMAN. Wreck'd 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 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. FIRST GENTLEMAN. The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes; for by such was it acted. THIRD GENTLEMAN. One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angl'd 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't bravely confess'd and lamented by the King, how attentivenes 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. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Are they returned to the court? THIRD GENTLEMAN. 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 that 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. SECOND GENTLEMAN. 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? FIRST GENTLEMAN. 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.
                                                Exeunt GENTLEMEN
  AUTOLYCUS. Now, had I not 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 relish'd among my other discredits.
 

Enter SHEPHERD and CLOWN

 
    Here come those I have done good to against my will, and
already
    appearing in the blossoms of their fortune.
  SHEPHERD. Come, boy; I am past moe children, but thy sons and
    daughters will be all gentlemen born.
  CLOWN. You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me this
    other day, because I was no gentleman born. See you these
    clothes? 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.
  AUTOLYCUS. I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born.
  CLOWN. Ay, and have been so any time these four hours.
  SHEPHERD. And so have I, boy.
  CLOWN. 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.
  SHEPHERD. We may live, son, to shed many more.
  CLOWN. Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous
    estate as we are.
  AUTOLYCUS. 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.
  SHEPHERD. Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are
    gentlemen.
  CLOWN. Thou wilt amend thy life?
  AUTOLYCUS. Ay, an it like your good worship.
  CLOWN. Give me thy hand. I will swear to the Prince thou art as
    honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia.
  SHEPHERD. You may say it, but not swear it.
  CLOWN. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and
franklins
    say it: I'll swear it.
  SHEPHERD. How if it be false, son?
  CLOWN. 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 wouldst be a tall
    fellow of thy hands.
  AUTOLYCUS. I will prove so, sir, to my power.
  CLOWN. Ay, by any means, 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. Exeunt
 

SCENE III. Sicilia. A chapel in PAULINA's house

Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, CAMILLO, PAULINA,

 
LORDS and ATTENDANTS
  LEONTES. O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort
    That I have had of thee!
  PAULINA. 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.
  LEONTES. 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.
  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.
                [PAULINA draws a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE
                                         standing like 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?
  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,
    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!
  PERDITA. 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.
  PAULINA. O, patience!
    The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's
    Not dry.
  CAMILLO. 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.
  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.
  PAULINA. 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.
  LEONTES. Do not draw the curtain.
  PAULINA. No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy
    May think anon it moves.
  LEONTES. 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?
  POLIXENES. Masterly done!
    The very life seems warm upon her lip.
  LEONTES. The fixture of her eye has motion in't,
    As we are 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 am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you; but
    I could afflict you farther.
  LEONTES. 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.
  PAULINA. 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?
  LEONTES. No, not these twenty years.
  PERDITA. So long could I
    Stand by, a looker-on.
  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 her 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;
    Or those that think it is unlawful business
    I am about, let them depart.
  LEONTES. Proceed.
    No foot shall stir.
  PAULINA. Music, awake her: strike. [Music]
    '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.
                         [HERMIONE 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?
  LEONTES. O, she's warm!
    If this be magic, let it be an art
    Lawful as eating.
  POLIXENES. She embraces him.
  CAMILLO. She hangs about his neck.
    If she pertain to life, let her speak too.
  POLIXENES. Ay, and make it manifest where she has liv'd,
    Or how stol'n from the dead.
  PAULINA. That she is living,
    Were it but told you, should be hooted at
    Like an old tale; but it appears she lives
    Though 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.
  HERMIONE. 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? 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,
    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 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. O peace, Paulina!
    Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,
    As I by thine a wife. This is a match,
    And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine;
    But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her,
    As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many
    A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far-
    For him, I partly know his mind- to find thee
    An honourable husband. Come, Camillo,
    And take her by the hand whose worth and honesty
    Is richly noted, and here justified
    By us, a pair of kings. Let's from this place.
    What! look upon my brother. Both your pardons,
    That e'er I put between your holy looks
    My ill suspicion. This your son-in-law,
    And son unto the King, whom heavens directing,
    Is troth-plight to your daughter. 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. Hastily lead away. Exeunt
 

THE END