I am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke me 40 Per. And give me leave, And do not say 'tis superstition, that I kneel and then implore her blessing. Dear queen, that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours to kiss. Paul. Lady, 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. Pol. Will piece up in himself. Paul. Indeed, my lord, 50 If I had thought the sight of my poor image Would thus have wrought you,-for the stone is mine Would I were dead, but that, methinks, alreadyWhat was he that did make it? See, my lord, Would you not deem it breathed? 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 O sweet Paulina, Leon. Let 't alone. 70 Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but I could afflict you farther. 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. 80 So long could I Either forbear, Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you 90 And take you by the hand: but then you'll think- Leon. What you can make her do, To make her speak as move. Paul. 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. Leon. No foot shall stir. Proceed: Paul. Music, awake her; strike! [Music. 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach; Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come, 100 I'll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away, Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him Start not; her actions shall be holy as You kill her double. Nay, present your hand: Leon. O, she's warm! Pol. She embraces him. Cam. She hangs about his neck: If she pertain to life let her speak too. II Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she has lived, Or how stolen from the dead. Paul. That she is living, Were it but told you, should be hooted at And pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady; Our Perdita is found. Her. I 20 You gods, look down Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear that I, Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved Paul. 130 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, *Participate. Will wing me to some wither'd bough and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost. O, peace, Paulina! Leon. Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, mine; Thou hast found But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her, As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many 140 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. My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law |