2 Gent. 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? 3 Gent. 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; 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? 2 Gent. No. tears. 3 Gent. Then have you 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 seemed, sorrow wept to take leave of them; for their joy waded in 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 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' reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to do it.. 2 Gent. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the child? 3 Gent. 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. 1 Gent. What became of his bark, and his followers? 3 Gent. 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, O, the noble combat, that, 'twixt joy and sorrow, was fought in Paulina! 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. 1 Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes; for by such was it acted. 3 Gent. 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 dolor 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 color; some swooned, all sorrowed. If all the world could have seen it, the woe had been universal. 1 Gent. Are they returned to the court? 3 Gent. 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 performed 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. 2 Gent. 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? 1 Gent. 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. Aut. 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, overfond 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 un discovered. 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. Shep. Come, boy; I am past more children; but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born. Clo. 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. Aut. I know, you are now, sir, a gentleman born. Clo. Ay, and have been so, any time these four hours. Shep. And so have I, boy. Clo. 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 gentlemanlike tears that ever we shed. Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more. Clo. Ay; or else, 'twere hard luck, being in so prepos terous estate as we are. Aut. 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. Shep. 'Pr'ythee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen. Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life? Aut. Ay, an it like your good worship. Clo. Give me thy hand. I will swear to the prince, thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia. Shep. You may say it, but not swear it. Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and franklins say it, I'll swear it. Shep. How if it be false, son? Clo. 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. Aut. I will prove so, sir, to my power. Clo. Ay, 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. SCENE III. The same. A Room in Paulina's House. 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 vouchsafed, My life may last to answer. Leon. O, Paulina, We honor you with trouble. But we came To see the statue of our queen: your gallery Have we passed through, not without much content That which my daughter came to look upon, The statue of her mother. Paul. 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 To see the life as lively mocked, as ever Still sleep mocked death. Behold; and say, tis well. Your wonder. But yet speak;-first you, my liege, Her natural posture! Leon. VOL. II.-10 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 lived now. Leon. As now she might have done Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, As now it coldly stands,) when first I wooed her! Per. And give me leave; And do not say, 'tis superstition, that I kneel, and then implore her blessing.-Lady, Give me that hand of yours, to kiss. Paul. O patience; The statue is but newly fixed; the color'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 killed itself much sooner. Pol. Dear my brother, Let him, that was the cause of this, have power 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 showed 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- Pol. Masterly done. The very life seems warm upon her lip. |