Click here to return to The Bluestocking Archive
Old Shep.
So, 'tis said, Sir, about his son that shou'd have marry'd a
shepherd's daughter.
Autolicus.
If that shepherd be not in hand fast, let him fly; the curses he
shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the heart of
man, the back of monster.
Old Shep.
Think you so, Sir?
Autolicus.
Not he, alone, shall suffer what wit can make heavy, and
vengeance bitter; but those that are germain to him, tho' remov'd
fifty times, shall all come under the hangman; which, tho' it be
great pity, yet it is necessary; an old sheep-whistling rogue, a
ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into grace!--Some
say he shall be ston'd; but that death is too soft for him, say
I: draw our throne into a sheep-cot! all deaths are too few, the
sharpest too easy.
Clown.
Has the old man e'er a son, Sir, do you hear, an't like you, Sir?
Autolicus.
He has a son, who shall be flay'd alive, then 'nointed over with
honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest; then stand' till he be
three quarters and a dram dead; then recover'd again with
aqua-vita, or some other hot infusion; then (raw as he is, and in
the hottest day prognostication proclaims) shall he be set
against a brick wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon
him where he is to behold him with flies, blown to death; but
what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be
smil'd at, their offences being so capital? tell me, (for you
seem to be honest, plain men) what you have to the king; being
something gently consider'd, I'll bring you where he is, tender
your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalf, and if
it be in man, besides the king, to effect your suits, here is a
man shall do it.
Clown.
He seems to be of great authority, close with him, give him gold;
tho' authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is often led by the
nose with gold; shew the inside of your purse to the outside of
his hand, and no more ado; remember ston'd and flay'd alive.
[Aside to Old Shep.]
Old Shep.
An't please you, Sir, to undertake the business for us, here is
that gold I have; I'll make it as much more, and leave this young
man in pawn 'till I bring it you.
Autolicus.
After I have done what I promis'd----
Clown.
Ay, Sir.
Autolicus.
Well, give me the moiety--are you a party in this business?
Clown.
In some sort, Sir: but tho's my case be a pitiful one, I hope I
shall not be flay'd out of it.
Autolicus.
O, that's the case of the shepherd's son; hang him, he'll be made
an example.
Clown [To Shep.]
Comfort! good comfort! we must to the king, and shew our strange
sights; he must know 'tis none of your daughter, nor my sister;
we are gone else--Sir, I will give you as much as this old man
does, when the business is perform'd, and remain, as he says,
your pawn 'till it be brought you.
Autolicus.
I will trust you; walk before toward the sea-side; go on the
right hand, I will but look upon the hedge, and follow you.
Clown;
We are blest in this man, as I may say, ev'n blest.
Old Shep.
Lt's before as he bids us; he was provided to do us good.
[Exeunt Shep. and Clown.]
Autolicus.
If I had a mind to be honest, I see fortune wou'd not suffer me;
she drops booties in my mouth----I am courted now, with a double
occasion; gold, and a means to do the king good; which, who knows
how that may turn to my advancement! I will bring these two
nobles, these blind ones before him; if that the complaint they
have to the kin concerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for
being so far officious; I am proof against that title, and what
shame else belongs to it: to him will I present them; there may
be matter in it. [Exit.]
S C E N E Paulina's House.
Enter Paulina and a Gentleman.
Paulina.
Beseech you, Sir, now that my first burst of joy is over, and my
ebbing spirits no longer bear down my attention, give my ear
again the circumstances of this strange story: Leontes
arriv'd! escap'd from the fury of the sea! veil'd in the
'semblance of a poor shepherd! and has now thrown himself into
the arms of Polixenes! 'tis a chain of wonders!
Gent.
Yet the tale is not more wonderful than true; I was present at
the interview.
Paulina.
Speak, Sir, speak; tell me all.
Gent.
Soon as our king return'd to the palace, he retir'd with the good
Camillo, to lament the unhappy and ill-plac'd affection of
his son: yet, as gleams of sunshine oft break in upon a storm,
so, thro' all his indignation, there burst out by intervals
paternal love and sorrow; 'twas brought him that a person of no
great seeming intreated admittance; a refusal was return'd to
this bold request; but the stranger, unaw'd by this
discouragement, advanc'd to the king's presence: his boldness had
met with an equal punishment, had he not on the sudden assum'd a
majesty of mien and feature, that threw a kind of radiance over
his peasant garb, and fixt all who saw him with silent wonder and
admiration.
Paulina.
Well, but Polixenes!
Gent.
He stept forth to the stranger; but 'ere he cou'd enquire the
reasons of his presumption--behold, said Leontes bursting
into grief, behold the unhappy king, that much hath wrong'd
you--behold Leontes!--On this the king started from
him--true, I have wrong'd you, cry'd Leontes: but if
penitence can attone for guilt, behold these eyes, wept dry with
honest sorrow; this breast, rent with honest anguish; and if you
can suspect that my heart yet harbours those passions which once
infested it, here, I offer it to your sword; lay it open to the
day!
Paulina.
O, the force, the charm of returning virtue!
Gent.
Its charm was felt, indeed, by the generous king; for at once
forgetting that fatal enmity that had so long divided them, he
embrac'd the pentitent Leontes, with the unfeign'd warmth
of one who had found a long lost friend, return'd beyond hope
from banishment or death; while I>Leontes<.I> overwhelm'd with
such unlook'd for goodness, fell on his neck, and wept: thus they
stood embracing and embrac'd, in dumb and noble sorrow! their old
friendship being thus renew'd, Leontes began his
intercession for prince Florizel; but Polixenes
--break we off--here comes the good Camillo; speak, thou
bear'st thy tydings in thy looks.
Enter Camillo.
Nothing but bonfires--the oracle is fulfill'd!
O, Paulina, the beatings of my heart, will scarce
Permit my tongue to tell thee what it bears.
Paulina.
I know it all, my friend; the king of Sicily is arriv'd.
Camillo.
Not only the king of Sicily is arriv'd, but his daughter;
his long-lost daughter, is found.
Paulina.
Gracious gods support me! his daughter found! can it be? how was
she sav'd? and where has she been conceal'd?
Camillo.
That shepherdess, our prince has so long and so secretly
affected, proves Sicilia's heiress: the old shepherd, her
suppos'd father, deliver'd the manner how he found her upon the
coast, produc'd a fardel, in which are uncontested proofs of
every circumstance.
Paulina.
Can this be true?
Camillo.
Most true, if ever the 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 (pardon me, the mention of them) of your
lord Antigonus, found with it, which I know to be his
characters; 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.
Paulina.
Praised be the gods! wou'd I had beheld the behaviour of the two
kings at the unravelling of this story.
Camillo.
Ay, Paulina, for 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 a manner, that it seem'd sorrow
wept to take leave of 'em, 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. Sicily, being ready to leap out of himself for joy
of his found daughter, lifted the princess from the earth, and so
lock'd her in embracing, as if he wou'd pin her to his heart,
that she might no more be in danger of losing: then, as if that
joy had now become a loss, cries--Oh, thy mother! thy mother! now
he thanks the Old Shepherd, who stands by like a
weather-beaten conduit of many kings reigns; then asks
Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law; then
again worries his daughter with clipping her.--I never heard of
such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and
undoes description to draw it.
Paulina.
The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and
princes, for by such was it acted.
Camillo.
One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angled for my
eyes, was, at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner
how she came by it (bravely confess'd and lamented by the king);
how attentiveness wounded his daughter, 'till from one sign of
dolor to another, she did with an, Alas! I wou'd fain
say, bleed tears--I am sure my heart wept blood. Who was most
marble, there chang'd colour; some swooned, all sorrow'd; if the
world cou'd have seen't, the woe had been universal.
Paulina.
Are they return'd to court?
Camillo.
Not yet. They were proceeding with due ceremony, amid the
clamorous joy of the multitude, when I took advantage of their
delay, to recount to you this rhapsody of wonders.
[Trumpets.]
Paulina.
Camillo,haste thee; this royal assembly is entring now
the city. Haste thee, with Paulina's greeting to the
double majesty, and our new found princess; give them to know I
have in my keeping a statue of Hermione,perform'd by the
most true master of Italy; who, had he himself eternity,
and cou'd put breath into this work, wou'd beguile nature of her
custom, so perfectly he is her ape. He, so near to
Hermione, has done Hermione, that they will speak
to her, and stand in hope of answer. Invite them to the sight of
it, put thy message into what circumstance of compliment the time
and sudden occasion may admit, and return with best speed to
prepare for their unprovided entertainment.
[Exit.]
Camillo.
I obey you, madam. [Exeunt severally.]
S C E N E, the court. Enter Autolicus.
Autolicus. Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me, wou'd preferment fall upon my head. I brought the old man and his son to the kings, and told them, I heard them talk of a fardel, and I know no whit--but 'tis all one to me; for had I been the finder-out of this secret, it wou'd not have relish'd among my other discredits--here come those I have done good to against my will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune. Enter Old Shep. and Clown, fantastically dress'd.
Old Shep. Come, boy; I am past more children; but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born. Clown. (To Autolicus.) You are well met, Sir; you denied that I was a gentleman born; see these cloaths! say you see them not, and think me still no gentleman born--give me the lie, do--and try whether I am now no gentleman born. Autolicus. I know you are now, Sir, a gentleman born. Clown. Ay, nd have been so, for any time this half hour. Old Shep. 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, (that is, that was my sister) call'd my father, father; and so we all wept; and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed. Old Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more. Clown. Ay, or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are. Autolicus. 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. Old Shep. Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen. Clown. Thou wilt amend thy life? Autolicus. Ay, an'it like your good worship. Clown No, it does not like my worship now; but it is like it may like my worship when it is amended; therefore have heed that thou do'st amend it. Autolicus. I will, an't like you. Clown. Give me thy hand; hast nothing in't? am not I a gentleman? I must be gently consider'd--am not I a courtier? seest thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? Autolicus. Here is what gold I have, Sir;--so, I have brib'd him with his own money. [Aside.] Clown. And when am I to have the other moiety? and the young man in pawn till you bring it me? Autolicus. After you have done the business, Sir. Clown. Well, I will swear to the prince, thou are as honest a tall fellow as any in Bohemia. Old Shep. You may say it, but not swear it. Clown. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? let boors and franklyns say it; I'll swear it. Old Shep. How, if it be false, son? Clown. If it be never so false, a true gentleman may swear it in behalf of his friend; and I will swear to the prince thou are a tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunk ; but I know thou are no tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunk; but I'll swear it; no matter for that. (Trumpets.) Hark! the kings, and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the queen's statute. [sic/] Come, follow us, we will be thy good masters. [Exeunt.]
Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, Perdita, Camillo, Lords, and Attendants.
Polixenes.
Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd
A faint-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's 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 are Hermione, or rather thou art she
In thy not chiding; for she was a s 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 carvers 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 father, 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 fixture 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 faint!--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 live'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.
F I N I S.
