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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 am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but |
I could afflict you farther. |
LEONTES: |
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. |
PAULINA: |
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? |
LEONTES: |
No, not these twenty years. |
PERDITA: |
So long could I |
Stand by, a looker on. |
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 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. |
PAULINA: |
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. |
LEONTES: |
Proceed: |
No foot shall stir. |
PAULINA: |
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? |
LEONTES: |
O, she's warm! |
If this be magic, let it be an art |
Lawful as eating. |
POLIXENES: |
She embraces him. |
CAMILLO: |
She hangs about his neck: |
If she pertain to life let her speak too. |
POLIXENES: |
Ay, and make't manifest where she has lived, |
Or how stolen from the dead. |
PAULINA: |
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. |
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