The Winter's Tale Act 5

Act V.

Scene I. A room in Leontes' palace. Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Paulina, and servants.

Sir, You have done enough, and have performed a scent like sorrow. No fault could you make, which you have not redempt. Indeed, lay down more penitence than done trespass. At last, do as the heavens have done. Forget your evil. With them forgive yourself.

Whilst I remember her and her virtues, I cannot forget my blemishes in them, and so still think of the wrong I did myself. which was so much that airless it hath made my kingdom and destroyed the sweetest companion that e'er man bred his hopes out of.

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 killed would be unparalleled.

I think so. Killed, she I killed, I did so. But thou strikest me sorely to say I did. It is as bitter upon thy tongue as in my thought. Now, good now, say so but seldom. Not at all, good lady.

You might have spoken a thousand things that would have done the time more benefit and graced your kindness better.

You are one of those would have him wed again.

If you were 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 in certain 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 it there is none worthy respecting her that's gone besides the gods would have fulfilled their secret purposes For has not the divine Apollo said, is 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 heavens be contrary, oppose against their wills.

To Leontes.

Care not for issue. The crown will find an heir. Great Alexander left his to the worthiest, So his successor was like to be the best.

Good Paulina, who hast the memory of Hermione, I know, in honour, O, that ever I had squared me to thy counsel, Then, even now, I might have looked upon my queen's full eyes, Have taken treasure from her lips.

And left them more rich for what they yielded.

Thou speakest truth. No more such wives, therefore, no wife. One worse and better used Would make her sainted spirit again possess her corpse, And on this stage where we're offenders now, Appear soul-vexed, and begin, Why to me?

Had she such power, she had just cause.

She had, and would incense me to murder her I married.

I should so. Were I the ghost that walked, I'll bid you mark her eye. And tell me for what dull partent you chose her. Then I'd shriek that even your ears should rift to hear me, And the words that followed should be, Remember mine.

Stars, stars, and all eyes else dead coals, Fear thou no wife, I'll have no wife, Paulina.

Will you swear never to marry but by my free leave?

Never, Paulina, so be blessed my spirit.

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

You tempt him overmuch.

Unless another, as like Hermione as is her picture, affront his eye.

Good, madame.

I have done. Yet, if my lord will marry, if you will, sir, no remedy but you will, give me the office to choose you a queen. She shall not be so young as was your former, but she shall be such as walked your first queen's ghost. It should take joy to see her in your arms.

My true Paulina, we shall not marry till thou biddest us.

That shall be when your first queen's again in breath, never till then.

Enter a gentleman, 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.

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 forced by need and accident. What train!

But few, and those but mean.

His princess, say you, with him?

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

O Hermione! As every present time doth boast itself 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. She had not been nor was not to be equalled. Thus your verse flowed with her beauty once. Tis shrewdly ebbed to say you have seen a better.

Pardon, madam. The one I have almost forgot. Your pardon. The other— When she has obtained your eye, we'll have your tongue, too. This is a creature, when she begin a sect, might quench the zeal of all professors, else make proselytes of who she but bid follow.

How?

Not women?

Women will love her, that she is a woman more worth than any man. Men, that she is the rarest of all women.

Go, Cleomenes. Yourself assisted with your honored friends. Bring them to our embracement.

Exeunt Cleomenes and others.

Still, tis strange he thus should steal upon us.

Had our prince, jewel of children, seen this hour, he had paired well with this lord. There was not full a month between their births.

Prithee, no more.

Cease.

Thou knowest he dies to me again when talked 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.

Re-enter Cleomenes and others with Florizel and Perdita.

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 heir, that I should call you brother as I did him. and speak of something wildly by us performed before, most dearly welcome, and your fair princess, goddess. Oh, alas, I lost a couple that twixt heaven 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, though bearing misery, I desire my life once more to look on him.

By his command have I here touched Cecilia, 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 seized his wished ability. He had himself the lands and waters twixt your throne and his measured to look upon you, whom he loves. He bade me say so. more than all the scepters and those that bear them living.

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 the earth and hath he too exposed this paragon to the fearful usage at least ungentle of the dreadful neptune to greet a man not worth her pains much less the adventure of her person.

Good my lord she came from libya.

Where the warlike smallest that noble honored lord is feared and loved.

Most royal sir from thence from him whose daughter his tears proclaimed his parting with her thence A prosperous south wind friendly we have crossed, To execute the charge my father gave me for visiting your highness. My best train I have from your Sicilian shores dismissed, Who for Bohemia bend, to signify not only my success in Libya, sir, But my arrival and my wife's in safety here where we are.

The blessed gods purge all infection from our air whilst you do climb it 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 issueless. And your father's blessed, as he from heaven merits it, with you worthy his goodness.

What might I have been, might I, a son and daughter, now have looked on, such goodly things as you?

Enter a 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.

Where's Bohemia?

Speak.

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 hastening, 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.

Camillo has betrayed me, whose honour and whose honesty till now endured all weathers.

Laid so to his charge, he's with the king, your father.

Who, Camillo?

Camillo, sir, I spake with him, who now has these poor men in question. Never saw I a wretch as so quake. They kneel, they kiss the earth, forswear themselves as often as they speak. Bohemia stops his ears and threatens them with diverse deaths in death.

Oh, my poor father, the heavens set spies upon us, will not have our contract celebrated.

You are married?

We are not, sir, nor are we like to be. The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first, the odds for high and lows alike.

My lord, is this the daughter of a king?

She is, when once she is my wife.

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 tied in duty and as sorry your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty that you might well enjoy her.

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 owed 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.

Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mistress, which he counts but a trifle.

Sir, my liege, your eye hath too much youth in't. Not a month for your queen died she was more worth such gazes than what you look on now.

I thought of her, even in these looks I made.

To Florizel.

But your petition is yet unanswered. I will to your father. Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, I am 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.

Act V.

Scene II. Before Leontes' palace. Enter Artulicus and a gentleman.

Beseech you, sir. Were you present at this relation?

I was by at the opening of the fardel. Heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it. Whereupon, after a little amatedness, we were all commanded out of the chamber. Only this methought I heard the shepherd say, he found the child.

I would most gladly know the issue of it.

I make a broken delivery of the business, but the changes I perceived in the king and Camilla were very notes of admiration. They seemed 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 looked as they had heard of a world ransomed 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 the 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, Rohera?

Nothing but bonfires. The oracle is fulfilled. 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 a third gentleman.

Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward. he can deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? This news which is called true is so like an old tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion. Has the king found his heir?

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?

No.

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 seems sorrow wept to take leave of them for their joy waited in tears there was casting up of eyes holding up of hands with countenances of such distraction that they were to be known by garment not by favor 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' reins. I never heard of such another encounter,

which lames report to follow it, and undoes description.

To do it.

What, pray you, became of Antigonus that carried hence the child?

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 Polina knows.

What became of his bark and his followers?

Wrecked 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 Twix Joy and Sara was fought in Palina! She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband, another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled. 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.

The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes, for by such was it acted.

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 confessed, and lamented by the king, how attentiveness wounded his daughter, till, from one sign of dollar 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 it, the woe had been universal.

Are they returned to the court?

No, the princess hearing of her mother's statue, which is in the keeping of Polina, a piece many years in doing and now newly performed by that rare Italian master, Giulio 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 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, peace the rejoicing?

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.

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 print. told him, I heard them talk of a fardle, 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 seasick, and himself little better. Extremity of weather continuing, this mystery remained undiscovered. 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 enter shepherd and clown.

Here come those i have done good to against my will and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune.

Come boy i am fast more children but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born.

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.

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

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

And so have I, boy.

So you have, but I was a gentleman born before my father, for the king's son took me by the hand and called me brother, and then the two kings called my father brother, and then the prince my brother and the princess my sister called my father father. And so we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed.

We may leave, son, to shed many more.

Aye, or else to a hard luck, being in so preposterous a state as we are.

I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon all the faults I have committed to your worship. and to give me your good report to the prince my master.

Duke pretty sir do for we must be gentle now your gentleman.

Duke thou wilt amend thy life.

Duke ay and it like your good worship duke.

Give me thy hand i will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in bohemia.

You may say it, but not swear it.

Not swear it? Now I am a gentleman. Let Boers and Franklins say it. I'll swear it.

How if it be false, then?

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.

I will prove so, sir, to my power.

I by any means prove a tall fellow, if I do not wonder how thou darest 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. Act V, Scene III. A chapel in Paulina's house. Enter Leontes, Polyxenes, Florizel, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina, lords and attendants.

O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort that I have had of thee!

What, sovereign sir, I did not well, I meant well. All my services you have paid home. But that you have vouchsafed, with your crowned 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.

O Paulina, we honour you with trouble, but we came to see the statue of our queen. Your gallery have we passed 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.

As she lived peerless, so her dead likeness, I do well believe, excels whatever yet you looked upon, or hand of man hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it is. Prepare to see the life as lively mocked as ever still sleep mocked 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.

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.

Oh, not by much.

So much the more our carver's excellence, which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her as she lived now.

As now she might have done, so much to my good comfort, as it is now piercing to my soul. Oh, thus she stood, even with such life of majesty, warm life as now it coldly stands, when first I wooed her. I am ashamed. does not the stone rebuke me for being more stone than it how royal peace there's magic in thy majesty which has my evils conjured to remembrance and from thy admiring daughter took the spirits standing like stone with thee.

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.

Oh, patience! The statue is but newly fixed, the colors not dry.

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 killed itself much sooner.

Dear my brother, let him that was the cause of this have power to take off so much grief from you as he will peace up in himself.

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 showed it.

Do not draw the curtain.

No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy may think anon it moves.

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 breathed? And that those veins did verily bear blood.

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

The fixture of her eye has motion in it, as we are mocked with art.

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

Oh, sweet Paulina, make me to think so twenty years together. No settled senses of the world can match the pleasure of that madness. Let it alone.

I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirred you. But I could afflict you farther.

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.

Could 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?

No, not these twenty years.

So long could I stand by a looker-on.

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.

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.

It is required you do awake your faith. Then all stand still.

On.

Those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart.

Proceed. No foot shall stir.

Music. Awaker.

Strike.

Music.

Tis time.

Descend. Be stone no more.

Approach.

Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come, I'll fill your grave up. Nay, stir, come away, bequeath to death your numbness, for from him dear life redeems you. You perceive, she stirs.

Hermione comes down.

Start not. Her actions shall be hurtful. 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 wooed her. Now in age is she become the suitor.

Oh, she's warmer. If this be magic, let it be an art lawful as eating.

She embraces him.

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

Aye, and make manifest where she has lived, or how stolen from the dead.

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.

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 preserved? Where lived? 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 preserved myself to see the issue.

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 withered bough, and there my mate that's never to be found again. Lament till I am lost.

O peace, Paulina, thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, as I by thine a wife. This is a match and made between us by vows. Thou hast found mine, but how is to be questioned, 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 honorable 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 is your son-in-law. and son unto the king, who, heaven's directing, is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, lead us from hence, where we may leisurely each one demand an answer to his part performed in this wide gap of time, since first we were dissevered. Hastily lead away.

Exeunt End of Act 5 End of The Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare.

The Winter's Tale Act 5

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