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. (PAUL. undraws a curtain, and discovers a statue

I like your silence, it the more shows off

Your wonder: But yet speak ;-first, you, my liege.
Comes it not something near?

Leo. 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 excellence ; Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes her As she liv'd now.

Leo. 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 now 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!

Per. And give me leave;

And do not say, 'tis superstition, that

I kneel, and then implore her blessing.-Lady,
Dear queen, that ended when I but began,

Give me that hand of your's, to kiss.

Paul. 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,

[7] Sir Henry Wotton, in his Elements of Architecture mentions the fashion of colouring even regal statues for the stronger expression of affection, which he takes leave to call an English barbarism. Such, however, was the practice of the time: and unless the supposed statue of Hermione were painted, there could be no ruddiness upon her lip, nor could the veins verily seem to bear blood, as the poet expresses it afterwards. TOLLET.

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.

Leo. Do not draw the curtain.

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't; lest your fancy May think anon, it moves.

Leo. Let be, let be.

Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already-
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.

Leo. 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

He'll think anon, it lives.

Leo. 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 :
I could afflict you further.

Leo. 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 chizzel
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!
Leo. No, not these twenty years.

[8] Wrought-i. e. worked, agitated. STEEVENS.

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 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.

Leo. 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.

Paul. It is requir'd,

You do awake your faith: Then, all stand still;
Or those, that think it is unlawful business

I am about, let them depart.

Leo. Proceed;

No foot shall stir.

Paul. 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 :

[Music

[HERMIONE comes down from the pedestal,

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.

Leo. O, she's warm!

If this be magic, let it be an art

Lawful as eating.

Pol. She embraces him.

Cam. She hangs about his neck;

If she pertain to life, let her speak too.

[Embracing he

Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she has liv'd, Or, how stol'n from the dead?

Paul. 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.

[Presenting PERDITA, who kneels to HERMIONE.

Her. 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 preserv'd? where liv'd? how found
Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that I,—
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle

Gave hope thou wast in being,--have preserv'd
Myself, to see the issue.

Paul. 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.

Leo. O peace, Paulina;

Thou should'st a husband take by my consent,

As I by thine, a wife: this is a match,

And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine;

But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her,

As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many

A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far

(For him, I partly know his mind,) to find thee An honourable husband:Come, Camillo,

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.-
What?-Look upon my brother :-both your pardons,
That e'er I put between your holy looks

My ill suspicion.-This your son-in-law,

And son unto the king, (whom, heavens directing,)
Is troth-plight to your daughter.--Good Paulina,
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd: Hastily lead away.

[Exeunt.

[9] This play, as Dr. Warburton justly observes, is, with all its absurdities, very entertaining. The character of Autolycus is naturally conceived and strongly re presented. JOHNSON.

MACBETH.

OBSERVATIONS.

MACBETH.] In order to make a true estimate of the abili ties and merit of a writer, it is always necessary to examine the genius of his age, and the opinions of his contemporaries. A poet who should now make the whole action of his tragedy depend upon enchantment, and produce the chief events by the assistance of supernatural agents, would be censured as transgressing the bounds of probability, be banished from the theatre to the nursery, and condemned to write fairy tales instead of tragedies; but a survey of the notions that prevailed at the time when this play was written, will prove that Shakespeare was in no danger of such censures, since he only turned the system that was then universally admitted, to his advantage, and was far from over-burdening the credulity of his audi

ince.

The reality of witchcraft or enchantment, which, though not strictly the same, are confounded in this play, has in all ages and countries been credited by the common people, and in most, by the learned themselves. The phan toms have indeed appeared more frequently, in proportion as the darkness of ignorance has been more gross; but it cannot be shown, that the brightest gleams of knowledge have at any time been sufficient to drive them out of the world. The time in which this kind of credulity was at its height, seems to have been that of the holy war, in which the Christians imputed all their defeats to enchantments or diabolical opposition, as they ascribed their success to the assistance of their military saints; and the learned Dr. Warburton appears to believe (Supplement to the Introduction to Don Quixotte) that the first accounts of enchantments were brought into this part of the world b

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