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Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT V. SCENE III—The same. A Room in PAULINA’s 


Per.                                 And give me leave;

And do not say ’tis superstition, that

I kneel, and them implore her blessing.—Lady,

Dear queen, that ended when I but began,

Give me that hand of yours to kiss.

Paul.                                           O, patience!

The statue is but newly fix’d, the colour’s

Not dry.                                                [on,

Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid

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.                                   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.

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 show’d 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, al-


What was he that did make it?—See, my lord,

Would you not deem it breath’d? and that

those veins

Did verily bear blood?

Pol.                         Masterly done:

The very life seems warm upon her lip.

Leon. The fixture 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

He’ll think anon it lives.

Leon.                         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.

Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr’d

you: but

I could afflict you further.

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


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.                                   So long could I

Stand by, a looker on.

Paul.                         Either forbear,

Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you

For more amazement. If you can behold

I’ll make the statue move indeed, descend

And take you by the hand: but then you’ll


Which I protest against,—I am assisted

By wicked powers.

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ACT V. SCENE III—The same. A Room in PAULINA’s 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT V. SCENE III—The same. A Room in PAULINA’s 





Leon. O grave and good Paulina, the great


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 vouch-

saf’d,                                                [tracted

With your crown’d brother, and these your con-

Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit,

It is a surplus of your grace which never

My life may last to answer.

Leon.                               O Paulina,

We honour you with trouble:—but we came

To see the statue of our queen: your gallery

Have we pass’d through, not without much


In many singularities; but we saw not

That which my daughter came to look upon,

The statue of her mother.

Paul.                             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 [well.

Still sleep mock’d death: behold; and say ’tis

[PAULINA undraws a curtain, and discovers

HERMIONE standing as a statue.

I like your silence,—it the more shows off

Your wonder: but yet speak;—first, you, my


Comes it not something near?

Leon.                          Her natural posture!—

Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed,

Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she,

In thy not chiding; for she was as tender

As infancy and grace.—But yet, Paulina,

Hermione was not so much wrinkled; nothing

So aged, as this seems.

Pol.                             O, not by much.

Paul. So much the more our carver’s excel-

lence;                                                 [her

Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes

As she liv’d now.

Leon.                 As now she might have done,

So much to my good comfort, as it is

Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood,

Even with such life of majesty,—warm life,

As not it coldly stands,—when first I woo’d her!

I am asham’d: does not the stone rebuke me

For being more stone than it?—O royal piece,

There’s magic in thy majesty; which has

My evils conjur’d to remembrance; and

From thy admiring daughter took the spirits,

Standing like stone with thee!

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ACT V. SCENE III—The same. A Room in PAULINA’s 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT V. SCENE II—The same. Before the Palace.

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 over-

fond of the shepherd’s daughter,—so he then

took her to ben,—who began to be much sea-sick

and himself little better, extremity of weather

continuing, this mystery remained undiscov-

ered. 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. Here come

those I have done good to against my will, and

already appearing in the blossoms of their for-


Enter Shepherd and Clown.

Shep. Come boy; I am past more children,

but thy sons and daughters will be all gentle-

men 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


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 gentleman-

like tears that ever we shed.

Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more.

Clo. Ay; or else ’twere hard luck, being in so

preposterous 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 gentle-

man? Let boors and franklins say it, I’ll swear


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 tho 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


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 princess, our kindred,

are going to see the queen’s picture. Come, fol-

low us: we’ll be thy good masters.        [Exeunt.

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ACT V. SCENE III—The same. A Room in PAULINA’s 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT V. SCENE II—The same. Before the Palace.

Enter AUTOLYCUS and a Gentleman.

Gent. What, pray you, became of Anti-

gonus, that carried hence the child?

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.

Gent. What became of his bark and his


Gent. Wrecked the same instant of their

master’s death, and in the view of the shep-

herd: 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.

Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the

audience of kings and princes; for by such was

it acted.

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

relation of the queen’s death, with the man-

ner how she came to it,—bravely confessed and

lamented by the king,—how attentiveness

wounded his daughter; till, from one sign of

dolour 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 colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if

all the world could have seen it, the woe had

been universal.

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 perfect-

ly 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.

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?

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 s

unthrifty to our knowledge. et’s along.

[Exeunt Gentlemen.

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ACT V. SCENE II—The same. Before the Palace.

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT V. SCENE II—The same. Before the Palace.

Enter AUTOLYCUS and a Gentleman.

Aut.   Beseech you, sir, were you present at

this relation?

Gent. I was by at the opening of the fardel,

heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how

he found it: whereupon, after a little amazed-

ness, we were all commanded out of the cham-

ber, only this, methought I heard the shepherd

say he found the child.                             [it.

Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of

1 Gent. I make a broken delivery of the busi

ness; but the changes I perceived in the king

and Camillo were very notes of admiration:

they seemed almost, with staring on one an-

other, to tear the cases of their eyes’ there was

speech in their dubness, language in their

very gesture; they looked as they had heard of

a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a notable

passion of wonder appeared in them; but the

wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing,

could not say if the importance were joy or

sorrow;—but in the extremity of the one, it

must needs be. Here comes a gentleman that

happily knows more.

Enter a Gentleman.

The news, Rogero?

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.

Here comes the Lady Paulina’s steward: he

can deliver you more.

Enter a third Gentleman.

How goes it now, sir? this news, which is called

true, is so like an old tale that the variety of it is

in strong suspicion. Has the king found his


Gent. Most true, if ever truth were preg-

nant 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 nex of it; the letters of Anti-

gonus, 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 breed-

with all certainty to be the king’s daughter.

Did you see the meeting of the two kings?

Gent. No.

3 Gent. Then have you lost a sight which was

to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might

you have beheld one oy crown another, so and

in such manner that it seemed sorrow wept to

take leave of them; 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. 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 son0in-law; then again wor-

ries 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 descrip-

tion to do it.

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ACT V. SCENE II—The same. Before the Palace.

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT V. SCENE I—SICILIA. A Room in the Palace of


Enter a Lord.

Lord.                                Most noble sir,

That which I shall report will bear no credit,

Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great


Bohemia greets you from himself by me.

Desires you to attach his son, who has,

His dignity and duty both cast off,—

Fled from his father, from his hopes, and wit

a shepherd’s daughter.

Leon.                      Where’s Bohemia? speak.

Lord. Here in your city; I now came from


I speak amazedly; and it becomes

My marvel and my message. To your court

Whiles he was hast’ning,—in the chase, it


Of this fair couple,—meets he on the way

The father of this seeming lady, and

Her brother, both having their country quitted

With this young prince.

Flo.                        Camillo has betray’d me;

Whose honour and whose honesty, till now,

Endur’d all weathers.

Lord.                       Lay’t so to his charge;

He’s with the king your father.

Leon.                                   Who? Camillo?

Lord. Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who


Has these poor men in question. Never saw I

Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the


Forswear themselves as often as they speak:

Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them

With divers deaths in death.

Per.                                O my poor father!—

The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have

Our contract celebrated.

Leon.                           You are married?

Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;

The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first:—

The odds for high and low’s alike.

Leon.                                        My lord,

Is this the daughter of a king?

Flo.                                     She is,

When once she is my wife.

Leon. That once, I see, by your good father’s


Will come on very slowly. I am sorry,

Most sorry, you have broken from his liking,

Where you were tied in duty; and as sorry

Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty,

That you might. well enjoy her.

Flo.                                       Dear, look up:

Though Fortune, visible an enemy,

Should chase us, wit my father, power no jot

Hath she to change our loves.—Beseech you,


Remember since you ow’d no more to time

Than I do now: with thought of such affections,

Step forth mine advocate; at your request

My father will grant precious things as trifles.

Leon. Would he do so, I’d beg your precious


Which he counts but a trifle.

Paul.                                  Sir, my liege,

Your eye hath too much youth in’t: not a


‘ Fore your queen died, she was more worth

such gazes

Than what you look on now.

Leon.                                 I thought of her

Even in these looks I made.—But your petition


Is yet unanswer’d. I will to your father:

Your honour not o’erthrown by your desires,

I am friend to them and you: upon which


I now go toward him; therefore, follow me,

And mark what way I make. Come, good my

lord.                                               [Exeunt.

(On 10/27/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT V. SCENE I—SICILIA. A Room in the Palace of


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT V. SCENE I—SICILIA. A Room in the Palace of



and Attendants.

Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince;

For she did print your royal father off,

Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one,

Your father’s image is so hit in you,

His very air, that I should call you brother,

As I did him, and speak of something wildly

By us perform’d before. Most dearly welcome!

And your fair princess,—-goddess!—O, alas!

I lost a couple that ‘twixt heaven and earth

Might thus have stood, begetting wonder, as

You, gracious couple, do! and then I lost,—

All mine own folly,—the society,

Amity too, of your brave father, whom,

Though bearing misery, I desire my life

Once more to look on him.

Flo.                                 By his command

Have I here touch’d Sicilia, and from him

Give you all greetings that a king, at friend,

Can send his brother: and, but infirmity,—

Which waits upon word times,—hath some

thing seiz’d

His wish’d ability, he had himself

The lands and waters ‘twixt your throne and his

Measur’d, to look upon you; whom he loves,—

He bade me say so,—more than all the sceptres,

And those that bear them, living.

Leon.                      O my brother,—           [stir

Good gentleman!—the wrongs I have done thee

Afresh within me: and these my offices,

So rarely kind, are as interpreters

Of my behind-hand slackness!—Welcome


As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too

Expos’d this paragon to the fearful usage,—

At least ungentle,—of the dreadful Neptune,

To greet a man not worth her pains, much less

The adventure of her person?

Flo.                                     Good, my lord,

She came from Libya.

Leon.                      Where the warlike Smalus,

That noble honour’d lord, is fear’d and lov’d?

Flo. Most royal sir, from thence; from him,

whose daughter

His tears proclaim’d his, parting with her:


A prosperous south wind friendly,—we have


To execute the charge my father gave me,

For visiting your highness: my best train

I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss’d;

Who for Bohemia bend, to signify

Not only my success in Libya, sir,

But my arrival, and my wife’s in safety

Here, where we are.

Leon.                     The blessed gods

Purge all infection from our air whilst you

Do climate here! You have a holy father,

A graceful gentleman; against whose person,

So sacred as it is, I have done sin:

For which the heavens, taking angry note,

Have left me issueless; and your father’s


As he from heaven merits it,—with you,

Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,

Might I a son and daughter now have look’d on,

Such goodly things as you!

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ACT V. SCENE I—SICILIA. A Room in the Palace of