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act 5 scene 3
Terms in this set (14)
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 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."
We hounour 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.
"As she lived 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.
I like your silence, it the more shows off
Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege,
Comes it not something near?"
O, 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."
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.
The statue is but newly fix'd. the colour's not dry."
Dear my brother,
Let him that was the cause of this have power
To take off so much grief from you as he
Will piece 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 show'd it."
Do not draw the curtain.
"No longer shall you graze on't, lest your fancy
May think anon it moves."
The fixture of her eye has motion in't,
As we are mock'd with art.
"I'll draw the curtain:
My lord's almost so far transported that
He'll think anon it lives."
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.
"I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but
I could afflict you farther."
For this affliction has a taste as sweet
As any cordial comfort. Sill, 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.
"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?"
So long could I
Stand by, a looker on.
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."
No foot shall stir.
"Music, awake her; strike!
'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:
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."
Ay, and make it 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?
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 wither'd bough and there
My mate, that's never to be found again,
Lament till I am lost."
Sets found in the same folder
act 2 scene 2
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act 3 scene 2
act 5 scene 1
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