# paragraphs

plain_text:
I have done.\nYet, if my lord will marry,--if you will, sir,\nNo remedy, but you will,--give me the office\nTo choose you a queen: she shall not be so young\nAs was your former; but she shall be such\nAs, walk'd your first queen's ghost,\nit should take joy\nTo see her in your arms.


plain_text:
One that gives out himself Prince Florizel,\nSon of Polixenes, with his princess, she\nThe fairest I have yet beheld, desires access\nTo your high presence.


plain_text:
What with him? he comes not\nLike to his father's greatness: his approach,\nSo out of circumstance and sudden, tells us\n'Tis not a visitation framed, but forced\nBy need and accident. What train?


plain_text:
O Hermione,\nAs every present time doth boast itself\nAbove a better gone, so must thy grave\nGive way to what's seen now! Sir, you yourself\nHave said and writ so, but your writing now\nIs colder than that theme, 'She had not been,\nNor was not to be equall'd;'--thus your verse\nFlow'd with her beauty once: 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,\nTo say you have seen a better.


plain_text:
Pardon, madam:\nThe one I have almost forgot,--your pardon,--\nThe other, when she has obtain'd your eye,\nWill have your tongue too. This is a creature,\nWould she begin a sect, might quench the zeal\nOf all professors else, make proselytes\nOf who she but bid follow.


plain_text:
Women will love her, that she is a woman\nMore worth than any man; men, that she is\nThe rarest of all women.


plain_text:
Go, Cleomenes;\nYourself, assisted with your honour'd friends,\nBring them to our embracement. Still, 'tis strange\n[Exeunt CLEOMENES and others]\nHe thus should steal upon us.


plain_text:
Had our prince,\nJewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd\nWell with this lord: there was not full a month\nBetween their births.


plain_text:
Prithee, no more; cease; thou know'st\nHe dies to me again when talk'd of: sure,\nWhen I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches\nWill bring me to consider that which may\nUnfurnish me of reason. They are come.\n[Re-enter CLEOMENES and others, with FLORIZEL and PERDITA]\nYour mother was most true to wedlock, prince;\nFor she did print your royal father off,\nConceiving you: were I but twenty-one,\nYour father's image is so hit in you,\nHis very air, that I should call you brother,\nAs I did him, and speak of something wildly\nBy us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome!\nAnd your fair princess,--goddess!--O, alas!\nI lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth\nMight thus have stood begetting wonder as\nYou, gracious couple, do: and then I lost--\nAll mine own folly--the society,\nAmity too, of your brave father, whom,\nThough bearing misery, I desire my life\nOnce more to look on him.


plain_text:
By his command\nHave I here touch'd Sicilia and from him\nGive you all greetings that a king, at friend,\nCan send his brother: and, but infirmity\nWhich waits upon worn times hath something seized\nHis wish'd ability, he had himself\nThe lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his\nMeasured to look upon you; whom he loves--\nHe bade me say so--more than all the sceptres\nAnd those that bear them living.


plain_text:
O my brother,\nGood gentleman! the wrongs I have done thee stir\nAfresh within me, and these thy offices,\nSo rarely kind, are as interpreters\nOf my behind-hand slackness. Welcome hither,\nAs is the spring to the earth. And hath he too\nExposed this paragon to the fearful usage,\nAt least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune,\nTo greet a man not worth her pains, much less\nThe adventure of her person?


plain_text:
Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter\nHis tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence,\nA prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross'd,\nTo execute the charge my father gave me\nFor visiting your highness: my best train\nI have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd;\nWho for Bohemia bend, to signify\nNot only my success in Libya, sir,\nBut my arrival and my wife's in safety\nHere where we are.


plain_text:
The blessed gods\nPurge all infection from our air whilst you\nDo climate here! You have a holy father,\nA graceful gentleman; against whose person,\nSo sacred as it is, I have done sin:\nFor which the heavens, taking angry note,\nHave left me issueless; and your father's blest,\nAs he from heaven merits it, with you\nWorthy his goodness. What might I have been,\nMight I a son and daughter now have look'd on,\nSuch goodly things as you!


plain_text:
Most noble sir,\nThat which I shall report will bear no credit,\nWere not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir,\nBohemia greets you from himself by me;\nDesires you to attach his son, who has--\nHis dignity and duty both cast off--\nFled from his father, from his hopes, and with\nA shepherd's daughter.


plain_text:
Here in your city; I now came from him:\nI speak amazedly; and it becomes\nMy marvel and my message. To your court\nWhiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems,\nOf this fair couple, meets he on the way\nThe father of this seeming lady and\nHer brother, having both their country quitted\nWith this young prince.


plain_text:
Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now\nHas these poor men in question. Never saw I\nWretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth;\nForswear themselves as often as they speak:\nBohemia stops his ears, and threatens them\nWith divers deaths in death.


plain_text:
We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;\nThe stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first:\nThe odds for high and low's alike.


plain_text:
That 'once' I see by your good father's speed\nWill come on very slowly. I am sorry,\nMost sorry, you have broken from his liking\nWhere you were tied in duty, and as sorry\nYour choice is not so rich in worth as beauty,\nThat you might well enjoy her.


plain_text:
Dear, look up:\nThough Fortune, visible an enemy,\nShould chase us with my father, power no jot\nHath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir,\nRemember since you owed no more to time\nThan I do now: with thought of such affections,\nStep forth mine advocate; at your request\nMy father will grant precious things as trifles.


plain_text:
Sir, my liege,\nYour eye hath too much youth in't: not a month\n'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes\nThan what you look on now.


plain_text:
I thought of her,\nEven in these looks I made.\n[To FLORIZEL]\nBut your petition\nIs yet unanswer'd. I will to your father:\nYour honour not o'erthrown by your desires,\nI am friend to them and you: upon which errand\nI now go toward him; therefore follow me\nAnd mark what way I make: come, good my lord.


plain_text:
I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old\nshepherd deliver the manner how he found it:\nwhereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all\ncommanded out of the chamber; only this methought I\nheard the shepherd say, he found the child.


plain_text:
I make a broken delivery of the business; but the\nchanges I perceived in the king and Camillo were\nvery notes of admiration: they seemed almost, with\nstaring on one another, to tear the cases of their\neyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language\nin their very gesture; they looked as they had heard\nof a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a notable\npassion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest\nbeholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not\nsay if the importance were joy or sorrow; but in the\nextremity of the one, it must needs be.\n[Enter another Gentleman]\nHere comes a gentleman that haply knows more.\nThe news, Rogero?


plain_text:
Nothing but bonfires: the oracle is fulfilled; the\nking's daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is\nbroken out within this hour that ballad-makers\ncannot be able to express it.\n[Enter a third Gentleman]\nHere comes the Lady Paulina's steward: he can\ndeliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this news\nwhich is called true is so like an old tale, that\nthe verity of it is in strong suspicion: has the king\nfound his heir?


plain_text:
Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by\ncircumstance: that which you hear you'll swear you\nsee, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle\nof Queen Hermione's, her jewel about the neck of it,\nthe letters of Antigonus found with it which they\nknow to be his character, the majesty of the\ncreature in resemblance of the mother, the affection\nof nobleness which nature shows above her breeding,\nand many other evidences proclaim her with all\ncertainty to be the king's daughter. Did you see\nthe meeting of the two kings?


plain_text:
Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen,\ncannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one\njoy crown another, so and in such manner that it\nseemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their\njoy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes,\nholding up of hands, with countenances of such\ndistraction that they were to be known by garment,\nnot by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of\nhimself for joy of his found daughter, as if that\njoy were now become a loss, cries 'O, thy mother,\nthy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then\nembraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his\ndaughter with clipping her; now he thanks the old\nshepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten\nconduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such\nanother encounter, which lames report to follow it\nand undoes description to do it.


plain_text:
Like an old tale still, which will have matter to\nrehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear\nopen. He was torn to pieces with a bear: this\navouches the shepherd's son; who has not only his\ninnocence, which seems much, to justify him, but a\nhandkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows.


plain_text:
Wrecked the same instant of their master's death and\nin the view of the shepherd: so that all the\ninstruments which aided to expose the child were\neven then lost when it was found. But O, the noble\ncombat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in\nPaulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of\nher husband, another elevated that the oracle was\nfulfilled: she lifted the princess from the earth,\nand so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin\nher to her heart that she might no more be in danger\nof losing.


plain_text:
One of the prettiest touches of all and that which\nangled for mine eyes, caught the water though not\nthe fish, was when, at the relation of the queen's\ndeath, with the manner how she came to't bravely\nconfessed and lamented by the king, how\nattentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from one\nsign of dolour to another, she did, with an 'Alas,'\nI would fain say, bleed tears, for I am sure my\nheart wept blood. Who was most marble there changed\ncolour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world\ncould have seen 't, the woe had been universal.


plain_text:
No: the princess hearing of her mother's statue,\nwhich is in the keeping of Paulina,--a piece many\nyears in doing and now newly performed by that rare\nItalian master, Julio Romano, who, had he himself\neternity and could put breath into his work, would\nbeguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her\nape: he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that\nthey say one would speak to her and stand in hope of\nanswer: thither with all greediness of affection\nare they gone, and there they intend to sup.


plain_text:
I thought she had some great matter there in hand;\nfor she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever\nsince the death of Hermione, visited that removed\nhouse. Shall we thither and with our company piece\nthe rejoicing?


plain_text:
Who would be thence that has the benefit of access?\nevery wink of an eye some new grace will be born:\nour absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge.\nLet's along.


plain_text:
Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me,\nwould preferment drop on my head. I brought the old\nman and his son aboard the prince: told him I heard\nthem talk of a fardel and I know not what: but he\nat that time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter,\nso he then took her to be, who began to be much\nsea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of\nweather continuing, this mystery remained\nundiscovered. But 'tis all one to me; for had I\nbeen the finder out of this secret, it would not\nhave relished among my other discredits.\n[Enter Shepherd and Clown]\nHere come those I have done good to against my will,\nand already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune.


plain_text:
You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me\nthis other day, because I was no gentleman born.\nSee you these clothes? say you see them not and\nthink me still no gentleman born: you were best say\nthese robes are not gentlemen born: give me the\nlie, do, and try whether I am not now a gentleman born.


plain_text:
So you have: but I was a gentleman born before my\nfather; for the king's son took me by the hand, and\ncalled me brother; and then the two kings called my\nfather brother; and then the prince my brother and\nthe princess my sister called my father father; and\nso we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like\ntears that ever we shed.


plain_text:
I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the\nfaults I have committed to your worship and to give\nme your good report to the prince my master.


plain_text:
Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince thou\nart as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia.


plain_text:
If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear\nit in the behalf of his friend: and I'll swear to\nthe prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and\nthat thou wilt not be drunk; but I know thou art no\ntall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be\ndrunk: but I'll swear it, and I would thou wouldst\nbe a tall fellow of thy hands.


plain_text:
Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I do not\nwonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not\nbeing a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark! the kings\nand the princes, our kindred, are going to see the\nqueen's picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy\ngood masters.


plain_text:
What, sovereign sir,\nI did not well I meant well. All my services\nYou have paid home: but that you have vouchsafed,\nWith your crown'd brother and these your contracted\nHeirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit,\nIt is a surplus of your grace, which never\nMy life may last to answer.


plain_text:
O Paulina,\nWe honour you with trouble: but we came\nTo see the statue of our queen: your gallery\nHave we pass'd through, not without much content\nIn many singularities; but we saw not\nThat which my daughter came to look upon,\nThe statue of her mother.


plain_text:
As she lived peerless,\nSo her dead likeness, I do well believe,\nExcels whatever yet you look'd upon\nOr hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it\nLonely, apart. But here it is: prepare\nTo see the life as lively mock'd as ever\nStill sleep mock'd death: behold, and say 'tis well.\n[PAULINA draws a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE]\nstanding like a statue]\nI like your silence, it the more shows off\nYour wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege,\nComes it not something near?


plain_text:
Her natural posture!\nChide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed\nThou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she\nIn thy not chiding, for she was as tender\nAs infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina,\nHermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing\nSo aged as this seems.


plain_text:
So much the more our carver's excellence;\nWhich lets go by some sixteen years and makes her\nAs she lived now.


plain_text:
As now she might have done,\nSo much to my good comfort, as it is\nNow piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood,\nEven with such life of majesty, warm life,\nAs now it coldly stands, when first I woo'd her!\nI am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke me\nFor being more stone than it? O royal piece,\nThere's magic in thy majesty, which has\nMy evils conjured to remembrance and\nFrom thy admiring daughter took the spirits,\nStanding like stone with thee.


plain_text:
And give me leave,\nAnd do not say 'tis superstition, that\nI kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady,\nDear queen, that ended when I but began,\nGive me that hand of yours to kiss.


plain_text:
My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on,\nWhich sixteen winters cannot blow away,\nSo many summers dry; scarce any joy\nDid ever so long live; no sorrow\nBut kill'd itself much sooner.


plain_text:
Dear my brother,\nLet him that was the cause of this have power\nTo take off so much grief from you as he\nWill piece up in himself.


plain_text:
Indeed, my lord,\nIf I had thought the sight of my poor image\nWould thus have wrought you,--for the stone is mine--\nI'ld not have show'd it.


plain_text:
Let be, let be.\nWould I were dead, but that, methinks, already--\nWhat was he that did make it? See, my lord,\nWould you not deem it breathed? and that those veins\nDid verily bear blood?


plain_text:
O sweet Paulina,\nMake me to think so twenty years together!\nNo settled senses of the world can match\nThe pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone.


plain_text:
Do, Paulina;\nFor this affliction has a taste as sweet\nAs any cordial comfort. Still, methinks,\nThere is an air comes from her: what fine chisel\nCould ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,\nFor I will kiss her.


plain_text:
Good my lord, forbear:\nThe ruddiness upon her lip is wet;\nYou'll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own\nWith oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain?


plain_text:
Either forbear,\nQuit presently the chapel, or resolve you\nFor more amazement. If you can behold it,\nI'll make the statue move indeed, descend\nAnd take you by the hand; but then you'll think--\nWhich I protest against--I am assisted\nBy wicked powers.


plain_text:
What you can make her do,\nI am content to look on: what to speak,\nI am content to hear; for 'tis as easy\nTo make her speak as move.


plain_text:
It is required\nYou do awake your faith. Then all stand still;\nOn: those that think it is unlawful business\nI am about, let them depart.


plain_text:
Music, awake her; strike!\n[Music]\n'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach;\nStrike all that look upon with marvel. Come,\nI'll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away,\nBequeath to death your numbness, for from him\nDear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs:\n[HERMIONE comes down]\nStart not; her actions shall be holy as\nYou hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her\nUntil you see her die again; for then\nYou kill her double. Nay, present your hand:\nWhen she was young you woo'd her; now in age\nIs she become the suitor?


plain_text:
That she is living,\nWere it but told you, should be hooted at\nLike an old tale: but it appears she lives,\nThough yet she speak not. Mark a little while.\nPlease you to interpose, fair madam: kneel\nAnd pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady;\nOur Perdita is found.


plain_text:
You gods, look down\nAnd from your sacred vials pour your graces\nUpon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine own.\nWhere hast thou been preserved? where lived? how found\nThy father's court? for thou shalt hear that I,\nKnowing by Paulina that the oracle\nGave hope thou wast in being, have preserved\nMyself to see the issue.


plain_text:
There's time enough for that;\nLest they desire upon this push to trouble\nYour joys with like relation. Go together,\nYou precious winners all; your exultation\nPartake to every one. I, an old turtle,\nWill wing me to some wither'd bough and there\nMy mate, that's never to be found again,\nLament till I am lost.


plain_text:
O, peace, Paulina!\nThou shouldst a husband take by my consent,\nAs I by thine a wife: this is a match,\nAnd made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine;\nBut how, is to be question'd; for I saw her,\nAs I thought, dead, and have in vain said many\nA prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far--\nFor him, I partly know his mind--to find thee\nAn honourable husband. Come, Camillo,\nAnd take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty\nIs richly noted and here justified\nBy us, a pair of kings. Let's from this place.\nWhat! look upon my brother: both your pardons,\nThat e'er I put between your holy looks\nMy ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law,\nAnd son unto the king, who, heavens directing,\nIs troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,\nLead us from hence, where we may leisurely\nEach one demand an answer to his part\nPerform'd in this wide gap of time since first\nWe were dissever'd: hastily lead away.


