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 further.
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 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.
LEONTES.
Proceed:
No foot shall stir.