No More Learning

No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy
May think anon it moves.
LEONTES. 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?
POLIXENES. Masterly done!
The very life seems warm upon her lip.
LEONTES. The fixture of her eye has motion in't,
As we are mock'd with art.
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.