{"collection":"sks","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/sks/ppt/ppt.htm","path":"sks/ppt/ppt.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/sks/ppt/ppt.htm","text":"PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\nANTIOCHUS king of Antioch.\nPERICLES prince of Tyre.\nHELICANUS |\n| two lords of Tyre.\nESCANES |\nSIMONIDES king of Pentapolis.\nCLEON governor of Tarsus.\nLYSIMACHUS governor of Mytilene.\nCERIMON a lord of Ephesus.\nTHALIARD a lord of Antioch.\nPHILEMON servant to Cerimon.\nLEONINE servant to Dionyza.\nMarshal. (Marshal:)\nA Pandar. (Pandar:)\nBOULT his servant.\nThe Daughter of Antiochus. (Daughter:)\nDIONYZA wife to Cleon.\nTHAISA daughter to Simonides.\nMARINA daughter to Pericles and Thaisa.\nLYCHORIDA nurse to Marina.\nA Bawd. (Bawd:)\nLords, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pirates,\nFishermen, and Messengers. (Lord:)\n(First Lord:)\n(Second Lord:)\n(Third Lord:)\n(First Knight:)\n(Second Knight:)\n(Third Knight:)\n(First Gentleman:)\n(Second Gentleman:)\n(First Sailor:)\n(Second Sailor:)\n(First Pirate:)\n(Second Pirate:)\n(Third Pirate:)\n(First Fisherman:)\n(Second Fisherman:)\n(Third Fisherman:)\n(Messenger:)\nDIANA:\nGOWER as Chorus.\nSCENE Dispersedly in various countries.\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT I\n[Enter GOWER]\n[Before the palace of Antioch]\nTo sing a song that old was sung,\nFrom ashes ancient Gower is come;\nAssuming man's infirmities,\nTo glad your ear, and please your eyes.\nIt hath been sung at festivals,\nOn ember-eves and holy-ales;\nAnd lords and ladies in their lives\nHave read it for restoratives:\nThe purchase is to make men glorious;\nEt bonum quo antiquius, eo melius.\nIf you, born in these latter times,\nWhen wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes.\nAnd that to hear an old man sing\nMay to your wishes pleasure bring\nI life would wish, and that I might\nWaste it for you, like taper-light.\nThis Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great\nBuilt up, this city, for his chiefest seat:\nThe fairest in all Syria,\nI tell you what mine authors say:\nThis king unto him took a fere,\nWho died and left a female heir,\nSo buxom, blithe, and full of face,\nAs heaven had lent her all his grace;\nWith whom the father liking took,\nAnd her to incest did provoke:\nBad child; worse father! to entice his own\nTo evil should be done by none:\nBut custom what they did begin\nWas with long use account no sin.\nThe beauty of this sinful dame\nMade many princes thither frame,\nTo seek her as a bed-fellow,\nIn marriage-pleasures play-fellow:\nWhich to prevent he made a law,\nTo keep her still, and men in awe,\nThat whoso ask'd her for his wife,\nHis riddle told not, lost his life:\nSo for her many a wight did die,\nAs yon grim looks do testify.\nWhat now ensues, to the judgment of your eye\nI give, my cause who best can justify.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT I\nSCENE I Antioch. A room in the palace.\n[Enter ANTIOCHUS, Prince PERICLES, and followers]\nANTIOCHUS Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received\nThe danger of the task you undertake.\nPERICLES I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul\nEmbolden'd with the glory of her praise,\nThink death no hazard in this enterprise.\nANTIOCHUS Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride,\nFor the embracements even of Jove himself;\nAt whose conception, till Lucina reign'd,\nNature this dowry gave, to glad her presence,\nThe senate-house of planets all did sit,\nTo knit in her their best perfections.\n[Music. Enter the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS]\nPERICLES See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring,\nGraces her subjects, and her thoughts the king\nOf every virtue gives renown to men!\nHer face the book of praises, where is read\nNothing but curious pleasures, as from thence\nSorrow were ever razed and testy wrath\nCould never be her mild companion.\nYou gods that made me man, and sway in love,\nThat have inflamed desire in my breast\nTo taste the fruit of yon celestial tree,\nOr die in the adventure, be my helps,\nAs I am son and servant to your will,\nTo compass such a boundless happiness!\nANTIOCHUS Prince Pericles,--\nPERICLES That would be son to great Antiochus.\nANTIOCHUS Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,\nWith golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd;\nFor death-like dragons here affright thee hard:\nHer face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view\nHer countless glory, which desert must gain;\nAnd which, without desert, because thine eye\nPresumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die.\nYon sometimes famous princes, like thyself,\nDrawn by report, adventurous by desire,\nTell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale,\nThat without covering, save yon field of stars,\nHere they stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars;\nAnd with dead cheeks advise thee to desist\nFor going on death's net, whom none resist.\nPERICLES Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught\nMy frail mortality to know itself,\nAnd by those fearful objects to prepare\nThis body, like to them, to what I must;\nFor death remember'd should be like a mirror,\nWho tells us life's but breath, to trust it error.\nI'll make my will then, and, as sick men do\nWho know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe,\nGripe not at earthly joys as erst they did;\nSo I bequeath a happy peace to you\nAnd all good men, as every prince should do;\nMy riches to the earth from whence they came;\nBut my unspotted fire of love to you.\n[To the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS]\nThus ready for the way of life or death,\nI wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus.\nANTIOCHUS Scorning advice, read the conclusion then:\nWhich read and not expounded, 'tis decreed,\nAs these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed.\nDaughter Of all say'd yet, mayst thou prove prosperous!\nOf all say'd yet, I wish thee happiness!\nPERICLES Like a bold champion, I assume the lists,\nNor ask advice of any other thought\nBut faithfulness and courage.\n[He reads the riddle]\nI am no viper, yet I feed\nOn mother's flesh which did me breed.\nI sought a husband, in which labour\nI found that kindness in a father:\nHe's father, son, and husband mild;\nI mother, wife, and yet his child.\nHow they may be, and yet in two,\nAs you will live, resolve it you.\nSharp physic is the last: but, O you powers\nThat give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts,\nWhy cloud they not their sights perpetually,\nIf this be true, which makes me pale to read it?\nFair glass of light, I loved you, and could still,\n[Takes hold of the hand of the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS]\nWere not this glorious casket stored with ill:\nBut I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt\nFor he's no man on whom perfections wait\nThat, knowing sin within, will touch the gate.\nYou are a fair viol, and your sense the strings;\nWho, finger'd to make man his lawful music,\nWould draw heaven down, and all the gods, to hearken:\nBut being play'd upon before your time,\nHell only danceth at so harsh a chime.\nGood sooth, I care not for you.\nANTIOCHUS Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life.\nFor that's an article within our law,\nAs dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired:\nEither expound now, or receive your sentence.\nPERICLES Great king,\nFew love to hear the sins they love to act;\n'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it.\nWho has a book of all that monarchs do,\nHe's more secure to keep it shut than shown:\nFor vice repeated is like the wandering wind.\nBlows dust in other's eyes, to spread itself;\nAnd yet the end of all is bought thus dear,\nThe breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear:\nTo stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts\nCopp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd\nBy man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't.\nKings are earth's gods; in vice their law's\ntheir will;\nAnd if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill?\nIt is enough you know; and it is fit,\nWhat being more known grows worse, to smother it.\nAll love the womb that their first being bred,\nThen give my tongue like leave to love my head.\nANTIOCHUS [Aside] Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found\nthe meaning:\nBut I will gloze with him.--Young prince of Tyre,\nThough by the tenor of our strict edict,\nYour exposition misinterpreting,\nWe might proceed to cancel of your days;\nYet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree\nAs your fair self, doth tune us otherwise:\nForty days longer we do respite you;\nIf by which time our secret be undone,\nThis mercy shows we'll joy in such a son:\nAnd until then your entertain shall be\nAs doth befit our honour and your worth.\n[Exeunt all but PERICLES]\nPERICLES How courtesy would seem to cover sin,\nWhen what is done is like an hypocrite,\nThe which is good in nothing but in sight!\nIf it be true that I interpret false,\nThen were it certain you were not so bad\nAs with foul incest to abuse your soul;\nWhere now you're both a father and a son,\nBy your untimely claspings with your child,\nWhich pleasure fits an husband, not a father;\nAnd she an eater of her mother's flesh,\nBy the defiling of her parent's bed;\nAnd both like serpents are, who though they feed\nOn sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed.\nAntioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men\nBlush not in actions blacker than the night,\nWill shun no course to keep them from the light.\nOne sin, I know, another doth provoke;\nMurder's as near to lust as flame to smoke:\nPoison and treason are the hands of sin,\nAy, and the targets, to put off the shame:\nThen, lest my lie be cropp'd to keep you clear,\nBy flight I'll shun the danger which I fear.\n[Exit]\n[Re-enter ANTIOCHUS]\nANTIOCHUS He hath found the meaning, for which we mean\nTo have his head.\nHe must not live to trumpet forth my infamy,\nNor tell the world Antiochus doth sin\nIn such a loathed manner;\nAnd therefore instantly this prince must die:\nFor by his fall my honour must keep high.\nWho attends us there?\n[Enter THALIARD]\nTHALIARD Doth your highness call?\nANTIOCHUS Thaliard,\nYou are of our chamber, and our mind partakes\nHer private actions to your secrecy;\nAnd for your faithfulness we will advance you.\nThaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold;\nWe hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him:\nIt fits thee not to ask the reason why,\nBecause we bid it. Say, is it done?\nTHALIARD My lord,\n'Tis done.\nANTIOCHUS Enough.\n[Enter a Messenger]\nLet your breath cool yourself, telling your haste.\nMessenger My lord, prince Pericles is fled.\n[Exit]\nANTIOCHUS As thou\nWilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot\nFrom a well-experienced archer hits the mark\nHis eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return\nUnless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead.'\nTHALIARD My lord,\nIf I can get him within my pistol's length,\nI'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness.\nANTIOCHUS Thaliard, adieu!\n[Exit THALIARD]\nTill Pericles be dead,\nMy heart can lend no succor to my head.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT I\nSCENE II Tyre. A room in the palace.\n[Enter PERICLES]\nPERICLES [To Lords without] Let none disturb us.--Why should\nthis change of thoughts,\nThe sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy,\nBe my so used a guest as not an hour,\nIn the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,\nThe tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet?\nHere pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them,\nAnd danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch,\nWhose aim seems far too short to hit me here:\nYet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits,\nNor yet the other's distance comfort me.\nThen it is thus: the passions of the mind,\nThat have their first conception by mis-dread,\nHave after-nourishment and life by care;\nAnd what was first but fear what might be done,\nGrows elder now and cares it be not done.\nAnd so with me: the great Antiochus,\n'Gainst whom I am too little to contend,\nSince he's so great can make his will his act,\nWill think me speaking, though I swear to silence;\nNor boots it me to say I honour him.\nIf he suspect I may dishonour him:\nAnd what may make him blush in being known,\nHe'll stop the course by which it might be known;\nWith hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land,\nAnd with the ostent of war will look so huge,\nAmazement shall drive courage from the state;\nOur men be vanquish'd ere they do resist,\nAnd subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence:\nWhich care of them, not pity of myself,\nWho am no more but as the tops of trees,\nWhich fence the roots they grow by and defend them,\nMakes both my body pine and soul to languish,\nAnd punish that before that he would punish.\n[Enter HELICANUS, with other Lords]\nFirst Lord Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast!\nSecond Lord And keep your mind, till you return to us,\nPeaceful and comfortable!\nHELICANUS Peace, peace, and give experience tongue.\nThey do abuse the king that flatter him:\nFor flattery is the bellows blows up sin;\nThe thing which is flatter'd, but a spark,\nTo which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing;\nWhereas reproof, obedient and in order,\nFits kings, as they are men, for they may err.\nWhen Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace,\nHe flatters you, makes war upon your life.\nPrince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please;\nI cannot be much lower than my knees.\nPERICLES All leave us else; but let your cares o'erlook\nWhat shipping and what lading's in our haven,\nAnd then return to us.\n[Exeunt Lords]\nHelicanus, thou\nHast moved us: what seest thou in our looks?\nHELICANUS An angry brow, dread lord.\nPERICLES If there be such a dart in princes' frowns,\nHow durst thy tongue move anger to our face?\nHELICANUS How dare the plants look up to heaven, from whence\nThey have their nourishment?\nPERICLES Thou know'st I have power\nTo take thy life from thee.\nHELICANUS [Kneeling]\nI have ground the axe myself;\nDo you but strike the blow.\nPERICLES Rise, prithee, rise.\nSit down: thou art no flatterer:\nI thank thee for it; and heaven forbid\nThat kings should let their ears hear their\nfaults hid!\nFit counsellor and servant for a prince,\nWho by thy wisdom makest a prince thy servant,\nWhat wouldst thou have me do?\nHELICANUS To bear with patience\nSuch griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself.\nPERICLES Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus,\nThat minister'st a potion unto me\nThat thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself.\nAttend me, then: I went to Antioch,\nWhere as thou know'st, against the face of death,\nI sought the purchase of a glorious beauty.\nFrom whence an issue I might propagate,\nAre arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects.\nHer face was to mine eye beyond all wonder;\nThe rest--hark in thine ear--as black as incest:\nWhich by my knowledge found, the sinful father\nSeem'd not to strike, but smooth: but thou\nknow'st this,\n'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.\nSuch fear so grew in me, I hither fled,\nUnder the covering of a careful night,\nWho seem'd my good protector; and, being here,\nBethought me what was past, what might succeed.\nI knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears\nDecrease not, but grow faster than the years:\nAnd should he doubt it, as no doubt he doth,\nThat I should open to the listening air\nHow many worthy princes' bloods were shed,\nTo keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope,\nTo lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms,\nAnd make pretence of wrong that I have done him:\nWhen all, for mine, if I may call offence,\nMust feel war's blow, who spares not innocence:\nWhich love to all, of which thyself art one,\nWho now reprovest me for it,--\nHELICANUS Alas, sir!\nPERICLES Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks,\nMusings into my mind, with thousand doubts\nHow I might stop this tempest ere it came;\nAnd finding little comfort to relieve them,\nI thought it princely charity to grieve them.\nHELICANUS Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak.\nFreely will I speak. Antiochus you fear,\nAnd justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant,\nWho either by public war or private treason\nWill take away your life.\nTherefore, my lord, go travel for a while,\nTill that his rage and anger be forgot,\nOr till the Destinies do cut his thread of life.\nYour rule direct to any; if to me.\nDay serves not light more faithful than I'll be.\nPERICLES I do not doubt thy faith;\nBut should he wrong my liberties in my absence?\nHELICANUS We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth,\nFrom whence we had our being and our birth.\nPERICLES Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to Tarsus\nIntend my travel, where I'll hear from thee;\nAnd by whose letters I'll dispose myself.\nThe care I had and have of subjects' good\nOn thee I lay whose wisdom's strength can bear it.\nI'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath:\nWho shuns not to break one will sure crack both:\nBut in our orbs we'll live so round and safe,\nThat time of both this truth shall ne'er convince,\nThou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT I\nSCENE III Tyre. An ante-chamber in the palace.\n[Enter THALIARD]\nTHALIARD So, this is Tyre, and this the court. Here must I\nkill King Pericles; and if I do it not, I am sure to\nbe hanged at home: 'tis dangerous. Well, I perceive\nhe was a wise fellow, and had good discretion, that,\nbeing bid to ask what he would of the king, desired\nhe might know none of his secrets: now do I see he\nhad some reason for't; for if a king bid a man be a\nvillain, he's bound by the indenture of his oath to\nbe one! Hush! here come the lords of Tyre.\n[Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES, with other Lords of Tyre]\nHELICANUS You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre,\nFurther to question me of your king's departure:\nHis seal'd commission, left in trust with me,\nDoth speak sufficiently he's gone to travel.\nTHALIARD [Aside] How! the king gone!\nHELICANUS If further yet you will be satisfied,\nWhy, as it were unlicensed of your loves,\nHe would depart, I'll give some light unto you.\nBeing at Antioch--\nTHALIARD [Aside] What from Antioch?\nHELICANUS Royal Antiochus--on what cause I know not--\nTook some displeasure at him; at least he judged so:\nAnd doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd,\nTo show his sorrow, he'ld correct himself;\nSo puts himself unto the shipman's toil,\nWith whom each minute threatens life or death.\nTHALIARD [Aside] Well, I perceive\nI shall not be hang'd now, although I would;\nBut since he's gone, the king's seas must please:\nHe 'scaped the land, to perish at the sea.\nI'll present myself. Peace to the lords of Tyre!\nHELICANUS Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome.\nTHALIARD From him I come\nWith message unto princely Pericles;\nBut since my landing I have understood\nYour lord has betook himself to unknown travels,\nMy message must return from whence it came.\nHELICANUS We have no reason to desire it,\nCommended to our master, not to us:\nYet, ere you shall depart, this we desire,\nAs friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT I\nSCENE IV Tarsus. A room in the Governor's house.\n[Enter CLEON, the governor of Tarsus, with DIONYZA,\nand others]\nCLEON My Dionyza, shall we rest us here,\nAnd by relating tales of others' griefs,\nSee if 'twill teach us to forget our own?\nDIONYZA That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it;\nFor who digs hills because they do aspire\nThrows down one mountain to cast up a higher.\nO my distressed lord, even such our griefs are;\nHere they're but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes,\nBut like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise.\nCLEON O Dionyza,\nWho wanteth food, and will not say he wants it,\nOr can conceal his hunger till he famish?\nOur tongues and sorrows do sound deep\nOur woes into the air; our eyes do weep,\nTill tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder;\nThat, if heaven slumber while their creatures want,\nThey may awake their helps to comfort them.\nI'll then discourse our woes, felt several years,\nAnd wanting breath to speak help me with tears.\nDIONYZA I'll do my best, sir.\nCLEON This Tarsus, o'er which I have the government,\nA city on whom plenty held full hand,\nFor riches strew'd herself even in the streets;\nWhose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds,\nAnd strangers ne'er beheld but wondered at;\nWhose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd,\nLike one another's glass to trim them by:\nTheir tables were stored full, to glad the sight,\nAnd not so much to feed on as delight;\nAll poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great,\nThe name of help grew odious to repeat.\nDIONYZA O, 'tis too true.\nCLEON But see what heaven can do! By this our change,\nThese mouths, who but of late, earth, sea, and air,\nWere all too little to content and please,\nAlthough they gave their creatures in abundance,\nAs houses are defiled for want of use,\nThey are now starved for want of exercise:\nThose palates who, not yet two summers younger,\nMust have inventions to delight the taste,\nWould now be glad of bread, and beg for it:\nThose mothers who, to nousle up their babes,\nThought nought too curious, are ready now\nTo eat those little darlings whom they loved.\nSo sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife\nDraw lots who first shall die to lengthen life:\nHere stands a lord, and there a lady weeping;\nHere many sink, yet those which see them fall\nHave scarce strength left to give them burial.\nIs not this true?\nDIONYZA Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.\nCLEON O, let those cities that of plenty's cup\nAnd her prosperities so largely taste,\nWith their superfluous riots, hear these tears!\nThe misery of Tarsus may be theirs.\n[Enter a Lord]\nLord Where's the lord governor?\nCLEON Here.\nSpeak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste,\nFor comfort is too far for us to expect.\nLord We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore,\nA portly sail of ships make hitherward.\nCLEON I thought as much.\nOne sorrow never comes but brings an heir,\nThat may succeed as his inheritor;\nAnd so in ours: some neighbouring nation,\nTaking advantage of our misery,\nHath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power,\nTo beat us down, the which are down already;\nAnd make a conquest of unhappy me,\nWhereas no glory's got to overcome.\nLord That's the least fear; for, by the semblance\nOf their white flags display'd, they bring us peace,\nAnd come to us as favourers, not as foes.\nCLEON Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat:\nWho makes the fairest show means most deceit.\nBut bring they what they will and what they can,\nWhat need we fear?\nThe ground's the lowest, and we are half way there.\nGo tell their general we attend him here,\nTo know for what he comes, and whence he comes,\nAnd what he craves.\nLord I go, my lord.\n[Exit]\nCLEON Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist;\nIf wars, we are unable to resist.\n[Enter PERICLES with Attendants]\nPERICLES Lord governor, for so we hear you are,\nLet not our ships and number of our men\nBe like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes.\nWe have heard your miseries as far as Tyre,\nAnd seen the desolation of your streets:\nNor come we to add sorrow to your tears,\nBut to relieve them of their heavy load;\nAnd these our ships, you happily may think\nAre like the Trojan horse was stuff'd within\nWith bloody veins, expecting overthrow,\nAre stored with corn to make your needy bread,\nAnd give them life whom hunger starved half dead.\nAll The gods of Greece protect you!\nAnd we'll pray for you.\nPERICLES Arise, I pray you, rise:\nWe do not look for reverence, but to love,\nAnd harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men.\nCLEON The which when any shall not gratify,\nOr pay you with unthankfulness in thought,\nBe it our wives, our children, or ourselves,\nThe curse of heaven and men succeed their evils!\nTill when,--the which I hope shall ne'er be seen,--\nYour grace is welcome to our town and us.\nPERICLES Which welcome we'll accept; feast here awhile,\nUntil our stars that frown lend us a smile.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT II\n[Enter GOWER]\nGOWER Here have you seen a mighty king\nHis child, I wis, to incest bring;\nA better prince and benign lord,\nThat will prove awful both in deed and word.\nBe quiet then as men should be,\nTill he hath pass'd necessity.\nI'll show you those in troubles reign,\nLosing a mite, a mountain gain.\nThe good in conversation,\nTo whom I give my benison,\nIs still at Tarsus, where each man\nThinks all is writ he speken can;\nAnd, to remember what he does,\nBuild his statue to make him glorious:\nBut tidings to the contrary\nAre brought your eyes; what need speak I?\nDUMB SHOW.\n[Enter at one door PERICLES talking with CLEON; all\nthe train with them. Enter at another door a\nGentleman, with a letter to PERICLES; PERICLES\nshows the letter to CLEON; gives the Messenger a\nreward, and knights him. Exit PERICLES at one\ndoor, and CLEON at another]\nGood Helicane, that stay'd at home,\nNot to eat honey like a drone\nFrom others' labours; for though he strive\nTo killen bad, keep good alive;\nAnd to fulfil his prince' desire,\nSends word of all that haps in Tyre:\nHow Thaliard came full bent with sin\nAnd had intent to murder him;\nAnd that in Tarsus was not best\nLonger for him to make his rest.\nHe, doing so, put forth to seas,\nWhere when men been, there's seldom ease;\nFor now the wind begins to blow;\nThunder above and deeps below\nMake such unquiet, that the ship\nShould house him safe is wreck'd and split;\nAnd he, good prince, having all lost,\nBy waves from coast to coast is tost:\nAll perishen of man, of pelf,\nNe aught escapen but himself;\nTill fortune, tired with doing bad,\nThrew him ashore, to give him glad:\nAnd here he comes. What shall be next,\nPardon old Gower,--this longs the text.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT II\nSCENE I Pentapolis. An open place by the sea-side.\n[Enter PERICLES, wet]\nPERICLES Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven!\nWind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man\nIs but a substance that must yield to you;\nAnd I, as fits my nature, do obey you:\nAlas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks,\nWash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath\nNothing to think on but ensuing death:\nLet it suffice the greatness of your powers\nTo have bereft a prince of all his fortunes;\nAnd having thrown him from your watery grave,\nHere to have death in peace is all he'll crave.\n[Enter three FISHERMEN]\nFirst Fisherman What, ho, Pilch!\nSecond Fisherman Ha, come and bring away the nets!\nFirst Fisherman What, Patch-breech, I say!\nThird Fisherman What say you, master?\nFirst Fisherman Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I'll\nfetch thee with a wanion.\nThird Fisherman Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that\nwere cast away before us even now.\nFirst Fisherman Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what\npitiful cries they made to us to help them, when,\nwell-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves.\nThird Fisherman Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the\nporpus how he bounced and tumbled? they say\nthey're half fish, half flesh: a plague on them,\nthey ne'er come but I look to be washed. Master, I\nmarvel how the fishes live in the sea.\nFirst Fisherman Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the\nlittle ones: I can compare our rich misers to\nnothing so fitly as to a whale; a' plays and\ntumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at\nlast devours them all at a mouthful: such whales\nhave I heard on o' the land, who never leave gaping\ntill they've swallowed the whole parish, church,\nsteeple, bells, and all.\nPERICLES [Aside] A pretty moral.\nThird Fisherman But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have\nbeen that day in the belfry.\nSecond Fisherman Why, man?\nThird Fisherman Because he should have swallowed me too: and when I\nhad been in his belly, I would have kept such a\njangling of the bells, that he should never have\nleft, till he cast bells, steeple, church, and\nparish up again. But if the good King Simonides\nwere of my mind,--\nPERICLES [Aside] Simonides!\nThird Fisherman We would purge the land of these drones, that rob\nthe bee of her honey.\nPERICLES [Aside] How from the finny subject of the sea\nThese fishers tell the infirmities of men;\nAnd from their watery empire recollect\nAll that may men approve or men detect!\nPeace be at your labour, honest fishermen.\nSecond Fisherman Honest! good fellow, what's that? If it be a day\nfits you, search out of the calendar, and nobody\nlook after it.\nPERICLES May see the sea hath cast upon your coast.\nSecond Fisherman What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our\nway!\nPERICLES A man whom both the waters and the wind,\nIn that vast tennis-court, have made the ball\nFor them to play upon, entreats you pity him:\nHe asks of you, that never used to beg.\nFirst Fisherman No, friend, cannot you beg? Here's them in our\ncountry Greece gets more with begging than we can do\nwith working.\nSecond Fisherman Canst thou catch any fishes, then?\nPERICLES I never practised it.\nSecond Fisherman Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; for here's nothing\nto be got now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for't.\nPERICLES What I have been I have forgot to know;\nBut what I am, want teaches me to think on:\nA man throng'd up with cold: my veins are chill,\nAnd have no more of life than may suffice\nTo give my tongue that heat to ask your help;\nWhich if you shall refuse, when I am dead,\nFor that I am a man, pray see me buried.\nFirst Fisherman Die quoth-a? Now gods forbid! I have a gown here;\ncome, put it on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a\nhandsome fellow! Come, thou shalt go home, and\nwe'll have flesh for holidays, fish for\nfasting-days, and moreo'er puddings and flap-jacks,\nand thou shalt be welcome.\nPERICLES I thank you, sir.\nSecond Fisherman Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg.\nPERICLES I did but crave.\nSecond Fisherman But crave! Then I'll turn craver too, and so I\nshall 'scape whipping.\nPERICLES Why, are all your beggars whipped, then?\nSecond Fisherman O, not all, my friend, not all; for if all your\nbeggars were whipped, I would wish no better office\nthan to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw up the\nnet.\n[Exit with Third Fisherman]\nPERICLES [Aside] How well this honest mirth becomes their labour!\nFirst Fisherman Hark you, sir, do you know where ye are?\nPERICLES Not well.\nFirst Fisherman Why, I'll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and\nour king the good Simonides.\nPERICLES The good King Simonides, do you call him.\nFirst Fisherman Ay, sir; and he deserves so to be called for his\npeaceable reign and good government.\nPERICLES He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects\nthe name of good by his government. How far is his\ncourt distant from this shore?\nFirst Fisherman Marry, sir, half a day's journey: and I'll tell\nyou, he hath a fair daughter, and to-morrow is her\nbirth-day; and there are princes and knights come\nfrom all parts of the world to just and tourney for her love.\nPERICLES Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish\nto make one there.\nFirst Fisherman O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man\ncannot get, he may lawfully deal for--his wife's soul.\n[Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, drawing up a net]\nSecond Fisherman Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net,\nlike a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly\ncome out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last, and\n'tis turned to a rusty armour.\nPERICLES An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it.\nThanks, fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses,\nThou givest me somewhat to repair myself;\nAnd though it was mine own, part of my heritage,\nWhich my dead father did bequeath to me.\nWith this strict charge, even as he left his life,\n'Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield\nTwixt me and death;'--and pointed to this brace;--\n'For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity--\nThe which the gods protect thee from!--may\ndefend thee.'\nIt kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it;\nTill the rough seas, that spare not any man,\nTook it in rage, though calm'd have given't again:\nI thank thee for't: my shipwreck now's no ill,\nSince I have here my father's gift in's will.\nFirst Fisherman What mean you, sir?\nPERICLES To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth,\nFor it was sometime target to a king;\nI know it by this mark. He loved me dearly,\nAnd for his sake I wish the having of it;\nAnd that you'ld guide me to your sovereign's court,\nWhere with it I may appear a gentleman;\nAnd if that ever my low fortune's better,\nI'll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor.\nFirst Fisherman Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady?\nPERICLES I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms.\nFirst Fisherman Why, do 'e take it, and the gods give thee good on't!\nSecond Fisherman Ay, but hark you, my friend; 'twas we that made up\nthis garment through the rough seams of the waters:\nthere are certain condolements, certain vails. I\nhope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remember from\nwhence you had it.\nPERICLES Believe 't, I will.\nBy your furtherance I am clothed in steel;\nAnd, spite of all the rapture of the sea,\nThis jewel holds his building on my arm:\nUnto thy value I will mount myself\nUpon a courser, whose delightful steps\nShall make the gazer joy to see him tread.\nOnly, my friend, I yet am unprovided\nOf a pair of bases.\nSecond Fisherman We'll sure provide: thou shalt have my best gown to\nmake thee a pair; and I'll bring thee to the court myself.\nPERICLES Then honour be but a goal to my will,\nThis day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT II\nSCENE II The same. A public way or platform leading to the\nlists. A pavilion by the side of it for the\nreception of King, Princess, Lords, &c.\n[Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, and Attendants]\nSIMONIDES Are the knights ready to begin the triumph?\nFirst Lord They are, my liege;\nAnd stay your coming to present themselves.\nSIMONIDES Return them, we are ready; and our daughter,\nIn honour of whose birth these triumphs are,\nSits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat\nFor men to see, and seeing wonder at.\n[Exit a Lord]\nTHAISA It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express\nMy commendations great, whose merit's less.\nSIMONIDES It's fit it should be so; for princes are\nA model which heaven makes like to itself:\nAs jewels lose their glory if neglected,\nSo princes their renowns if not respected.\n'Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain\nThe labour of each knight in his device.\nTHAISA Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll perform.\n[Enter a Knight; he passes over, and his Squire\npresents his shield to the Princess]\nSIMONIDES Who is the first that doth prefer himself?\nTHAISA A knight of Sparta, my renowned father;\nAnd the device he bears upon his shield\nIs a black Ethiope reaching at the sun\nThe word, 'Lux tua vita mihi.'\nSIMONIDES He loves you well that holds his life of you.\n[The Second Knight passes over]\nWho is the second that presents himself?\nTHAISA A prince of Macedon, my royal father;\nAnd the device he bears upon his shield\nIs an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady;\nThe motto thus, in Spanish, 'Piu por dulzura que por fuerza.'\n[The Third Knight passes over]\nSIMONIDES And what's the third?\nTHAISA The third of Antioch;\nAnd his device, a wreath of chivalry;\nThe word, 'Me pompae provexit apex.'\n[The Fourth Knight passes over]\nSIMONIDES What is the fourth?\nTHAISA A burning torch that's turned upside down;\nThe word, 'Quod me alit, me extinguit.'\nSIMONIDES Which shows that beauty hath his power and will,\nWhich can as well inflame as it can kill.\n[The Fifth Knight passes over]\nTHAISA The fifth, an hand environed with clouds,\nHolding out gold that's by the touchstone tried;\nThe motto thus, 'Sic spectanda fides.'\n[The Sixth Knight, PERICLES, passes over]\nSIMONIDES And what's\nThe sixth and last, the which the knight himself\nWith such a graceful courtesy deliver'd?\nTHAISA He seems to be a stranger; but his present is\nA wither'd branch, that's only green at top;\nThe motto, 'In hac spe vivo.'\nSIMONIDES A pretty moral;\nFrom the dejected state wherein he is,\nHe hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish.\nFirst Lord He had need mean better than his outward show\nCan any way speak in his just commend;\nFor by his rusty outside he appears\nTo have practised more the whipstock than the lance.\nSecond Lord He well may be a stranger, for he comes\nTo an honour'd triumph strangely furnished.\nThird Lord And on set purpose let his armour rust\nUntil this day, to scour it in the dust.\nSIMONIDES Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan\nThe outward habit by the inward man.\nBut stay, the knights are coming: we will withdraw\nInto the gallery.\n[Exeunt]\n[Great shouts within and all cry 'The mean knight!']\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT II\nSCENE III The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared.\n[Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, Attendants, and\nKnights, from tilting]\nSIMONIDES Knights,\nTo say you're welcome were superfluous.\nTo place upon the volume of your deeds,\nAs in a title-page, your worth in arms,\nWere more than you expect, or more than's fit,\nSince every worth in show commends itself.\nPrepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast:\nYou are princes and my guests.\nTHAISA But you, my knight and guest;\nTo whom this wreath of victory I give,\nAnd crown you king of this day's happiness.\nPERICLES 'Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit.\nSIMONIDES Call it by what you will, the day is yours;\nAnd here, I hope, is none that envies it.\nIn framing an artist, art hath thus decreed,\nTo make some good, but others to exceed;\nAnd you are her labour'd scholar. Come, queen o'\nthe feast,--\nFor, daughter, so you are,--here take your place:\nMarshal the rest, as they deserve their grace.\nKNIGHTS We are honour'd much by good Simonides.\nSIMONIDES Your presence glads our days: honour we love;\nFor who hates honour hates the gods above.\nMarshal Sir, yonder is your place.\nPERICLES Some other is more fit.\nFirst Knight Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen\nThat neither in our hearts nor outward eyes\nEnvy the great nor do the low despise.\nPERICLES You are right courteous knights.\nSIMONIDES Sit, sir, sit.\nPERICLES By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts,\nThese cates resist me, she but thought upon.\nTHAISA By Juno, that is queen of marriage,\nAll viands that I eat do seem unsavoury.\nWishing him my meat. Sure, he's a gallant gentleman.\nSIMONIDES He's but a country gentleman;\nHas done no more than other knights have done;\nHas broken a staff or so; so let it pass.\nTHAISA To me he seems like diamond to glass.\nPERICLES Yon king's to me like to my father's picture,\nWhich tells me in that glory once he was;\nHad princes sit, like stars, about his throne,\nAnd he the sun, for them to reverence;\nNone that beheld him, but, like lesser lights,\nDid vail their crowns to his supremacy:\nWhere now his son's like a glow-worm in the night,\nThe which hath fire in darkness, none in light:\nWhereby I see that Time's the king of men,\nHe's both their parent, and he is their grave,\nAnd gives them what he will, not what they crave.\nSIMONIDES What, are you merry, knights?\nKnights Who can be other in this royal presence?\nSIMONIDES Here, with a cup that's stored unto the brim,--\nAs you do love, fill to your mistress' lips,--\nWe drink this health to you.\nKNIGHTS We thank your grace.\nSIMONIDES Yet pause awhile:\nYon knight doth sit too melancholy,\nAs if the entertainment in our court\nHad not a show might countervail his worth.\nNote it not you, Thaisa?\nTHAISA What is it\nTo me, my father?\nSIMONIDES O, attend, my daughter:\nPrinces in this should live like gods above,\nWho freely give to every one that comes\nTo honour them:\nAnd princes not doing so are like to gnats,\nWhich make a sound, but kill'd are wonder'd at.\nTherefore to make his entrance more sweet,\nHere, say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him.\nTHAISA Alas, my father, it befits not me\nUnto a stranger knight to be so bold:\nHe may my proffer take for an offence,\nSince men take women's gifts for impudence.\nSIMONIDES How!\nDo as I bid you, or you'll move me else.\nTHAISA [Aside] Now, by the gods, he could not please me better.\nSIMONIDES And furthermore tell him, we desire to know of him,\nOf whence he is, his name and parentage.\nTHAISA The king my father, sir, has drunk to you.\nPERICLES I thank him.\nTHAISA Wishing it so much blood unto your life.\nPERICLES I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely.\nTHAISA And further he desires to know of you,\nOf whence you are, your name and parentage.\nPERICLES A gentleman of Tyre; my name, Pericles;\nMy education been in arts and arms;\nWho, looking for adventures in the world,\nWas by the rough seas reft of ships and men,\nAnd after shipwreck driven upon this shore.\nTHAISA He thanks your grace; names himself Pericles,\nA gentleman of Tyre,\nWho only by misfortune of the seas\nBereft of ships and men, cast on this shore.\nSIMONIDES Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune,\nAnd will awake him from his melancholy.\nCome, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles,\nAnd waste the time, which looks for other revels.\nEven in your armours, as you are address'd,\nWill very well become a soldier's dance.\nI will not have excuse, with saying this\nLoud music is too harsh for ladies' heads,\nSince they love men in arms as well as beds.\n[The Knights dance]\nSo, this was well ask'd,'twas so well perform'd.\nCome, sir;\nHere is a lady that wants breathing too:\nAnd I have heard, you knights of Tyre\nAre excellent in making ladies trip;\nAnd that their measures are as excellent.\nPERICLES In those that practise them they are, my lord.\nSIMONIDES O, that's as much as you would be denied\nOf your fair courtesy.\n[The Knights and Ladies dance]\nUnclasp, unclasp:\nThanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well.\n[To PERICLES]\nBut you the best. Pages and lights, to conduct\nThese knights unto their several lodgings!\n[To PERICLES]\nYours, sir,\nWe have given order to be next our own.\nPERICLES I am at your grace's pleasure.\nSIMONIDES Princes, it is too late to talk of love;\nAnd that's the mark I know you level at:\nTherefore each one betake him to his rest;\nTo-morrow all for speeding do their best.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT II\nSCENE IV Tyre. A room in the Governor's house.\n[Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES]\nHELICANUS No, Escanes, know this of me,\nAntiochus from incest lived not free:\nFor which, the most high gods not minding longer\nTo withhold the vengeance that they had in store,\nDue to this heinous capital offence,\nEven in the height and pride of all his glory,\nWhen he was seated in a chariot\nOf an inestimable value, and his daughter with him,\nA fire from heaven came and shrivell'd up\nTheir bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk,\nThat all those eyes adored them ere their fall\nScorn now their hand should give them burial.\nESCANES 'Twas very strange.\nHELICANUS And yet but justice; for though\nThis king were great, his greatness was no guard\nTo bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward.\nESCANES 'Tis very true.\n[Enter two or three Lords]\nFirst Lord See, not a man in private conference\nOr council has respect with him but he.\nSecond Lord It shall no longer grieve without reproof.\nThird Lord And cursed be he that will not second it.\nFirst Lord Follow me, then. Lord Helicane, a word.\nHELICANUS With me? and welcome: happy day, my lords.\nFirst Lord Know that our griefs are risen to the top,\nAnd now at length they overflow their banks.\nHELICANUS Your griefs! for what? wrong not your prince you love.\nFirst Lord Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane;\nBut if the prince do live, let us salute him,\nOr know what ground's made happy by his breath.\nIf in the world he live, we'll seek him out;\nIf in his grave he rest, we'll find him there;\nAnd be resolved he lives to govern us,\nOr dead, give's cause to mourn his funeral,\nAnd leave us to our free election.\nSecond Lord Whose death indeed's the strongest in our censure:\nAnd knowing this kingdom is without a head,--\nLike goodly buildings left without a roof\nSoon fall to ruin,--your noble self,\nThat best know how to rule and how to reign,\nWe thus submit unto,--our sovereign.\nAll Live, noble Helicane!\nHELICANUS For honour's cause, forbear your suffrages:\nIf that you love Prince Pericles, forbear.\nTake I your wish, I leap into the seas,\nWhere's hourly trouble for a minute's ease.\nA twelvemonth longer, let me entreat you to\nForbear the absence of your king:\nIf in which time expired, he not return,\nI shall with aged patience bear your yoke.\nBut if I cannot win you to this love,\nGo search like nobles, like noble subjects,\nAnd in your search spend your adventurous worth;\nWhom if you find, and win unto return,\nYou shall like diamonds sit about his crown.\nFirst Lord To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield;\nAnd since Lord Helicane enjoineth us,\nWe with our travels will endeavour us.\nHELICANUS Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands:\nWhen peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT II\nSCENE V Pentapolis. A room in the palace.\n[Enter SIMONIDES, reading a letter, at one door:\nthe Knights meet him]\nFirst Knight Good morrow to the good Simonides.\nSIMONIDES Knights, from my daughter this I let you know,\nThat for this twelvemonth she'll not undertake\nA married life.\nHer reason to herself is only known,\nWhich yet from her by no means can I get.\nSecond Knight May we not get access to her, my lord?\nSIMONIDES 'Faith, by no means; she has so strictly tied\nHer to her chamber, that 'tis impossible.\nOne twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery;\nThis by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd\nAnd on her virgin honour will not break it.\nThird Knight Loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves.\n[Exeunt Knights]\nSIMONIDES So,\nThey are well dispatch'd; now to my daughter's letter:\nShe tells me here, she'd wed the stranger knight,\nOr never more to view nor day nor light.\n'Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine;\nI like that well: nay, how absolute she's in't,\nNot minding whether I dislike or no!\nWell, I do commend her choice;\nAnd will no longer have it be delay'd.\nSoft! here he comes: I must dissemble it.\n[Enter PERICLES]\nPERICLES All fortune to the good Simonides!\nSIMONIDES To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you\nFor your sweet music this last night: I do\nProtest my ears were never better fed\nWith such delightful pleasing harmony.\nPERICLES It is your grace's pleasure to commend;\nNot my desert.\nSIMONIDES Sir, you are music's master.\nPERICLES The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.\nSIMONIDES Let me ask you one thing:\nWhat do you think of my daughter, sir?\nPERICLES A most virtuous princess.\nSIMONIDES And she is fair too, is she not?\nPERICLES As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair.\nSIMONIDES Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you;\nAy, so well, that you must be her master,\nAnd she will be your scholar: therefore look to it.\nPERICLES I am unworthy for her schoolmaster.\nSIMONIDES She thinks not so; peruse this writing else.\nPERICLES [Aside] What's here?\nA letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre!\n'Tis the king's subtlety to have my life.\nO, seek not to entrap me, gracious lord,\nA stranger and distressed gentleman,\nThat never aim'd so high to love your daughter,\nBut bent all offices to honour her.\nSIMONIDES Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art\nA villain.\nPERICLES By the gods, I have not:\nNever did thought of mine levy offence;\nNor never did my actions yet commence\nA deed might gain her love or your displeasure.\nSIMONIDES Traitor, thou liest.\nPERICLES Traitor!\nSIMONIDES Ay, traitor.\nPERICLES Even in his throat--unless it be the king--\nThat calls me traitor, I return the lie.\nSIMONIDES [Aside] Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage.\nPERICLES My actions are as noble as my thoughts,\nThat never relish'd of a base descent.\nI came unto your court for honour's cause,\nAnd not to be a rebel to her state;\nAnd he that otherwise accounts of me,\nThis sword shall prove he's honour's enemy.\nSIMONIDES No?\nHere comes my daughter, she can witness it.\n[Enter THAISA]\nPERICLES Then, as you are as virtuous as fair,\nResolve your angry father, if my tongue\nDid ere solicit, or my hand subscribe\nTo any syllable that made love to you.\nTHAISA Why, sir, say if you had,\nWho takes offence at that would make me glad?\nSIMONIDES Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?\n[Aside]\nI am glad on't with all my heart.--\nI'll tame you; I'll bring you in subjection.\nWill you, not having my consent,\nBestow your love and your affections\nUpon a stranger?\n[Aside]\nwho, for aught I know,\nMay be, nor can I think the contrary,\nAs great in blood as I myself.--\nTherefore hear you, mistress; either frame\nYour will to mine,--and you, sir, hear you,\nEither be ruled by me, or I will make you--\nMan and wife:\nNay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too:\nAnd being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy;\nAnd for a further grief,--God give you joy!--\nWhat, are you both pleased?\nTHAISA Yes, if you love me, sir.\nPERICLES Even as my life, or blood that fosters it.\nSIMONIDES What, are you both agreed?\nBOTH Yes, if it please your majesty.\nSIMONIDES It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed;\nAnd then with what haste you can get you to bed.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT III\n[Enter GOWER]\nGOWER Now sleep y-slaked hath the rout;\nNo din but snores the house about,\nMade louder by the o'er-fed breast\nOf this most pompous marriage-feast.\nThe cat, with eyne of burning coal,\nNow crouches fore the mouse's hole;\nAnd crickets sing at the oven's mouth,\nE'er the blither for their drouth.\nHymen hath brought the bride to bed.\nWhere, by the loss of maidenhead,\nA babe is moulded. Be attent,\nAnd time that is so briefly spent\nWith your fine fancies quaintly eche:\nWhat's dumb in show I'll plain with speech.\nDUMB SHOW.\n[Enter, PERICLES and SIMONIDES at one door, with\nAttendants; a Messenger meets them, kneels, and\ngives PERICLES a letter: PERICLES shows it\nSIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to him. Then enter\nTHAISA with child, with LYCHORIDA a nurse. The\nKING shows her the letter; she rejoices: she and\nPERICLES takes leave of her father, and depart with\nLYCHORIDA and their Attendants. Then exeunt\nSIMONIDES and the rest]\nBy many a dern and painful perch\nOf Pericles the careful search,\nBy the four opposing coigns\nWhich the world together joins,\nIs made with all due diligence\nThat horse and sail and high expense\nCan stead the quest. At last from Tyre,\nFame answering the most strange inquire,\nTo the court of King Simonides\nAre letters brought, the tenor these:\nAntiochus and his daughter dead;\nThe men of Tyrus on the head\nOf Helicanus would set on\nThe crown of Tyre, but he will none:\nThe mutiny he there hastes t' oppress;\nSays to 'em, if King Pericles\nCome not home in twice six moons,\nHe, obedient to their dooms,\nWill take the crown. The sum of this,\nBrought hither to Pentapolis,\nY-ravished the regions round,\nAnd every one with claps can sound,\n'Our heir-apparent is a king!\nWho dream'd, who thought of such a thing?'\nBrief, he must hence depart to Tyre:\nHis queen with child makes her desire--\nWhich who shall cross?--along to go:\nOmit we all their dole and woe:\nLychorida, her nurse, she takes,\nAnd so to sea. Their vessel shakes\nOn Neptune's billow; half the flood\nHath their keel cut: but fortune's mood\nVaries again; the grisly north\nDisgorges such a tempest forth,\nThat, as a duck for life that dives,\nSo up and down the poor ship drives:\nThe lady shrieks, and well-a-near\nDoes fall in travail with her fear:\nAnd what ensues in this fell storm\nShall for itself itself perform.\nI nill relate, action may\nConveniently the rest convey;\nWhich might not what by me is told.\nIn your imagination hold\nThis stage the ship, upon whose deck\nThe sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT III\nSCENE I:\n[Enter PERICLES, on shipboard]\nPERICLES Thou god of this great vast, rebuke these surges,\nWhich wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast\nUpon the winds command, bind them in brass,\nHaving call'd them from the deep! O, still\nThy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench\nThy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida,\nHow does my queen? Thou stormest venomously;\nWilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle\nIs as a whisper in the ears of death,\nUnheard. Lychorida!--Lucina, O\nDivinest patroness, and midwife gentle\nTo those that cry by night, convey thy deity\nAboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs\nOf my queen's travails!\n[Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant]\nNow, Lychorida!\nLYCHORIDA Here is a thing too young for such a place,\nWho, if it had conceit, would die, as I\nAm like to do: take in your arms this piece\nOf your dead queen.\nPERICLES How, how, Lychorida!\nLYCHORIDA Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.\nHere's all that is left living of your queen,\nA little daughter: for the sake of it,\nBe manly, and take comfort.\nPERICLES O you gods!\nWhy do you make us love your goodly gifts,\nAnd snatch them straight away? We here below\nRecall not what we give, and therein may\nUse honour with you.\nLYCHORIDA Patience, good sir,\nEven for this charge.\nPERICLES Now, mild may be thy life!\nFor a more blustrous birth had never babe:\nQuiet and gentle thy conditions! for\nThou art the rudeliest welcome to this world\nThat ever was prince's child. Happy what follows!\nThou hast as chiding a nativity\nAs fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,\nTo herald thee from the womb: even at the first\nThy loss is more than can thy portage quit,\nWith all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods\nThrow their best eyes upon't!\n[Enter two Sailors]\nFirst Sailor What courage, sir? God save you!\nPERICLES Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;\nIt hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love\nOf this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,\nI would it would be quiet.\nFirst Sailor Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou?\nBlow, and split thyself.\nSecond Sailor But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss\nthe moon, I care not.\nFirst Sailor Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high,\nthe wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be\ncleared of the dead.\nPERICLES That's your superstition.\nFirst Sailor Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still\nobserved: and we are strong in custom. Therefore\nbriefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.\nPERICLES As you think meet. Most wretched queen!\nLYCHORIDA Here she lies, sir.\nPERICLES A terrible childbed hast thou had, my dear;\nNo light, no fire: the unfriendly elements\nForgot thee utterly: nor have I time\nTo give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight\nMust cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;\nWhere, for a monument upon thy bones,\nAnd e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale\nAnd humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,\nLying with simple shells. O Lychorida,\nBid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,\nMy casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander\nBring me the satin coffer: lay the babe\nUpon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say\nA priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.\n[Exit LYCHORIDA]\nSecond Sailor Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked\nand bitumed ready.\nPERICLES I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?\nSecond Sailor We are near Tarsus.\nPERICLES Thither, gentle mariner.\nAlter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?\nSecond Sailor By break of day, if the wind cease.\nPERICLES O, make for Tarsus!\nThere will I visit Cleon, for the babe\nCannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it\nAt careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner:\nI'll bring the body presently.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT III\nSCENE II Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house.\n[Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who\nhave been shipwrecked]\nCERIMON Philemon, ho!\n[Enter PHILEMON]\nPHILEMON Doth my lord call?\nCERIMON Get fire and meat for these poor men:\n'T has been a turbulent and stormy night.\nServant I have been in many; but such a night as this,\nTill now, I ne'er endured.\nCERIMON Your master will be dead ere you return;\nThere's nothing can be minister'd to nature\nThat can recover him.\n[To PHILEMON]\nGive this to the 'pothecary,\nAnd tell me how it works.\n[Exeunt all but CERIMON]\n[Enter two Gentlemen]\nFirst Gentleman Good morrow.\nSecond Gentleman Good morrow to your lordship.\nCERIMON Gentlemen,\nWhy do you stir so early?\nFirst Gentleman Sir,\nOur lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,\nShook as the earth did quake;\nThe very principals did seem to rend,\nAnd all-to topple: pure surprise and fear\nMade me to quit the house.\nSecond Gentleman That is the cause we trouble you so early;\n'Tis not our husbandry.\nCERIMON O, you say well.\nFirst Gentleman But I much marvel that your lordship, having\nRich tire about you, should at these early hours\nShake off the golden slumber of repose.\n'Tis most strange,\nNature should be so conversant with pain,\nBeing thereto not compell'd.\nCERIMON I hold it ever,\nVirtue and cunning were endowments greater\nThan nobleness and riches: careless heirs\nMay the two latter darken and expend;\nBut immortality attends the former.\nMaking a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever\nHave studied physic, through which secret art,\nBy turning o'er authorities, I have,\nTogether with my practise, made familiar\nTo me and to my aid the blest infusions\nThat dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;\nAnd I can speak of the disturbances\nThat nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me\nA more content in course of true delight\nThan to be thirsty after tottering honour,\nOr tie my treasure up in silken bags,\nTo please the fool and death.\nSecond Gentleman Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth\nYour charity, and hundreds call themselves\nYour creatures, who by you have been restored:\nAnd not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even\nYour purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon\nSuch strong renown as time shall ne'er decay.\n[Enter two or three Servants with a chest]\nFirst Servant So; lift there.\nCERIMON What is that?\nFirst Servant Sir, even now\nDid the sea toss upon our shore this chest:\n'Tis of some wreck.\nCERIMON Set 't down, let's look upon't.\nSecond Gentleman 'Tis like a coffin, sir.\nCERIMON Whate'er it be,\n'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight:\nIf the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,\n'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.\nSecond Gentleman 'Tis so, my lord.\nCERIMON How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed!\nDid the sea cast it up?\nFirst Servant I never saw so huge a billow, sir,\nAs toss'd it upon shore.\nCERIMON Wrench it open;\nSoft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.\nSecond Gentleman A delicate odour.\nCERIMON As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.\nO you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!\nFirst Gentleman Most strange!\nCERIMON Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasured\nWith full bags of spices! A passport too!\nApollo, perfect me in the characters!\n[Reads from a scroll]\n'Here I give to understand,\nIf e'er this coffin drive a-land,\nI, King Pericles, have lost\nThis queen, worth all our mundane cost.\nWho finds her, give her burying;\nShe was the daughter of a king:\nBesides this treasure for a fee,\nThe gods requite his charity!'\nIf thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart\nThat even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight.\nSecond Gentleman Most likely, sir.\nCERIMON Nay, certainly to-night;\nFor look how fresh she looks! They were too rough\nThat threw her in the sea. Make a fire within:\nFetch hither all my boxes in my closet.\n[Exit a Servant]\nDeath may usurp on nature many hours,\nAnd yet the fire of life kindle again\nThe o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian\nThat had nine hours lien dead,\nWho was by good appliance recovered.\n[Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire]\nWell said, well said; the fire and cloths.\nThe rough and woeful music that we have,\nCause it to sound, beseech you.\nThe viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block!\nThe music there!--I pray you, give her air.\nGentlemen.\nThis queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth\nBreathes out of her: she hath not been entranced\nAbove five hours: see how she gins to blow\nInto life's flower again!\nFirst Gentleman The heavens,\nThrough you, increase our wonder and set up\nYour fame forever.\nCERIMON She is alive; behold,\nHer eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels\nWhich Pericles hath lost,\nBegin to part their fringes of bright gold;\nThe diamonds of a most praised water\nDo appear, to make the world twice rich. Live,\nAnd make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,\nRare as you seem to be.\n[She moves]\nTHAISA O dear Diana,\nWhere am I? Where's my lord? What world is this?\nSecond Gentleman Is not this strange?\nFirst Gentleman Most rare.\nCERIMON Hush, my gentle neighbours!\nLend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her.\nGet linen: now this matter must be look'd to,\nFor her relapse is mortal. Come, come;\nAnd AEsculapius guide us!\n[Exeunt, carrying her away]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT III\nSCENE III Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house.\n[Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA with\nMARINA in her arms]\nPERICLES Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone;\nMy twelve months are expired, and Tyrus stands\nIn a litigious peace. You, and your lady,\nTake from my heart all thankfulness! The gods\nMake up the rest upon you!\nCLEON Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,\nYet glance full wanderingly on us.\nDIONYZA O your sweet queen!\nThat the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither,\nTo have bless'd mine eyes with her!\nPERICLES We cannot but obey\nThe powers above us. Could I rage and roar\nAs doth the sea she lies in, yet the end\nMust be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom,\nFor she was born at sea, I have named so, here\nI charge your charity withal, leaving her\nThe infant of your care; beseeching you\nTo give her princely training, that she may be\nManner'd as she is born.\nCLEON Fear not, my lord, but think\nYour grace, that fed my country with your corn,\nFor which the people's prayers still fall upon you,\nMust in your child be thought on. If neglection\nShould therein make me vile, the common body,\nBy you relieved, would force me to my duty:\nBut if to that my nature need a spur,\nThe gods revenge it upon me and mine,\nTo the end of generation!\nPERICLES I believe you;\nYour honour and your goodness teach me to't,\nWithout your vows. Till she be married, madam,\nBy bright Diana, whom we honour, all\nUnscissor'd shall this hair of mine remain,\nThough I show ill in't. So I take my leave.\nGood madam, make me blessed in your care\nIn bringing up my child.\nDIONYZA I have one myself,\nWho shall not be more dear to my respect\nThan yours, my lord.\nPERICLES Madam, my thanks and prayers.\nCLEON We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore,\nThen give you up to the mask'd Neptune and\nThe gentlest winds of heaven.\nPERICLES I will embrace\nYour offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears,\nLychorida, no tears:\nLook to your little mistress, on whose grace\nYou may depend hereafter. Come, my lord.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT III\nSCENE IV Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house.\n[Enter CERIMON and THAISA]\nCERIMON Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,\nLay with you in your coffer: which are now\nAt your command. Know you the character?\nTHAISA It is my lord's.\nThat I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,\nEven on my eaning time; but whether there\nDeliver'd, by the holy gods,\nI cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles,\nMy wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again,\nA vestal livery will I take me to,\nAnd never more have joy.\nCERIMON Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak,\nDiana's temple is not distant far,\nWhere you may abide till your date expire.\nMoreover, if you please, a niece of mine\nShall there attend you.\nTHAISA My recompense is thanks, that's all;\nYet my good will is great, though the gift small.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT IV\n[Enter GOWER]\nGOWER Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre,\nWelcomed and settled to his own desire.\nHis woeful queen we leave at Ephesus,\nUnto Diana there a votaress.\nNow to Marina bend your mind,\nWhom our fast-growing scene must find\nAt Tarsus, and by Cleon train'd\nIn music, letters; who hath gain'd\nOf education all the grace,\nWhich makes her both the heart and place\nOf general wonder. But, alack,\nThat monster envy, oft the wrack\nOf earned praise, Marina's life\nSeeks to take off by treason's knife.\nAnd in this kind hath our Cleon\nOne daughter, and a wench full grown,\nEven ripe for marriage-rite; this maid\nHight Philoten: and it is said\nFor certain in our story, she\nWould ever with Marina be:\nBe't when she weaved the sleided silk\nWith fingers long, small, white as milk;\nOr when she would with sharp needle wound\nThe cambric, which she made more sound\nBy hurting it; or when to the lute\nShe sung, and made the night-bird mute,\nThat still records with moan; or when\nShe would with rich and constant pen\nVail to her mistress Dian; still\nThis Philoten contends in skill\nWith absolute Marina: so\nWith the dove of Paphos might the crow\nVie feathers white. Marina gets\nAll praises, which are paid as debts,\nAnd not as given. This so darks\nIn Philoten all graceful marks,\nThat Cleon's wife, with envy rare,\nA present murderer does prepare\nFor good Marina, that her daughter\nMight stand peerless by this slaughter.\nThe sooner her vile thoughts to stead,\nLychorida, our nurse, is dead:\nAnd cursed Dionyza hath\nThe pregnant instrument of wrath\nPrest for this blow. The unborn event\nI do commend to your content:\nOnly I carry winged time\nPost on the lame feet of my rhyme;\nWhich never could I so convey,\nUnless your thoughts went on my way.\nDionyza does appear,\nWith Leonine, a murderer.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT IV\nSCENE I Tarsus. An open place near the sea-shore.\n[Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE]\nDIONYZA Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do't:\n'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.\nThou canst not do a thing in the world so soon,\nTo yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,\nWhich is but cold, inflaming love i' thy bosom,\nInflame too nicely; nor let pity, which\nEven women have cast off, melt thee, but be\nA soldier to thy purpose.\nLEONINE I will do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.\nDIONYZA The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here\nshe comes weeping for her only mistress' death.\nThou art resolved?\nLEONINE I am resolved.\n[Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers]\nMARINA No, I will rob Tellus of her weed,\nTo strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues,\nThe purple violets, and marigolds,\nShall as a carpet hang upon thy grave,\nWhile summer-days do last. Ay me! poor maid,\nBorn in a tempest, when my mother died,\nThis world to me is like a lasting storm,\nWhirring me from my friends.\nDIONYZA How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?\nHow chance my daughter is not with you? Do not\nConsume your blood with sorrowing: you have\nA nurse of me. Lord, how your favour's changed\nWith this unprofitable woe!\nCome, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it.\nWalk with Leonine; the air is quick there,\nAnd it pierces and sharpens the stomach. Come,\nLeonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.\nMARINA No, I pray you;\nI'll not bereave you of your servant.\nDIONYZA Come, come;\nI love the king your father, and yourself,\nWith more than foreign heart. We every day\nExpect him here: when he shall come and find\nOur paragon to all reports thus blasted,\nHe will repent the breadth of his great voyage;\nBlame both my lord and me, that we have taken\nNo care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,\nWalk, and be cheerful once again; reserve\nThat excellent complexion, which did steal\nThe eyes of young and old. Care not for me\nI can go home alone.\nMARINA Well, I will go;\nBut yet I have no desire to it.\nDIONYZA Come, come, I know 'tis good for you.\nWalk half an hour, Leonine, at the least:\nRemember what I have said.\nLEONINE I warrant you, madam.\nDIONYZA I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while:\nPray, walk softly, do not heat your blood:\nWhat! I must have a care of you.\nMARINA My thanks, sweet madam.\n[Exit DIONYZA]\nIs this wind westerly that blows?\nLEONINE South-west.\nMARINA When I was born, the wind was north.\nLEONINE Was't so?\nMARINA My father, as nurse said, did never fear,\nBut cried 'Good seaman!' to the sailors, galling\nHis kingly hands, haling ropes;\nAnd, clasping to the mast, endured a sea\nThat almost burst the deck.\nLEONINE When was this?\nMARINA When I was born:\nNever was waves nor wind more violent;\nAnd from the ladder-tackle washes off\nA canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, 'wilt out?'\nAnd with a dropping industry they skip\nFrom stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and\nThe master calls, and trebles their confusion.\nLEONINE Come, say your prayers.\nMARINA What mean you?\nLEONINE If you require a little space for prayer,\nI grant it: pray; but be not tedious,\nFor the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn\nTo do my work with haste.\nMARINA Why will you kill me?\nLEONINE To satisfy my lady.\nMARINA Why would she have me kill'd?\nNow, as I can remember, by my troth,\nI never did her hurt in all my life:\nI never spake bad word, nor did ill turn\nTo any living creature: believe me, la,\nI never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly:\nI trod upon a worm against my will,\nBut I wept for it. How have I offended,\nWherein my death might yield her any profit,\nOr my life imply her any danger?\nLEONINE My commission\nIs not to reason of the deed, but do it.\nMARINA You will not do't for all the world, I hope.\nYou are well favour'd, and your looks foreshow\nYou have a gentle heart. I saw you lately,\nWhen you caught hurt in parting two that fought:\nGood sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now:\nYour lady seeks my life; come you between,\nAnd save poor me, the weaker.\nLEONINE I am sworn,\nAnd will dispatch.\n[He seizes her]\n[Enter Pirates]\nFirst Pirate Hold, villain!\n[LEONINE runs away]\nSecond Pirate A prize! a prize!\nThird Pirate Half-part, mates, half-part.\nCome, let's have her aboard suddenly.\n[Exeunt Pirates with MARINA]\n[Re-enter LEONINE]\nLEONINE These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes;\nAnd they have seized Marina. Let her go:\nThere's no hope she will return. I'll swear\nshe's dead,\nAnd thrown into the sea. But I'll see further:\nPerhaps they will but please themselves upon her,\nNot carry her aboard. If she remain,\nWhom they have ravish'd must by me be slain.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT IV\nSCENE II Mytilene. A room in a brothel.\n[Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT]\nPandar Boult!\nBOULT Sir?\nPandar Search the market narrowly; Mytilene is full of\ngallants. We lost too much money this mart by being\ntoo wenchless.\nBawd We were never so much out of creatures. We have but\npoor three, and they can do no more than they can\ndo; and they with continual action are even as good as rotten.\nPandar Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for\nthem. If there be not a conscience to be used in\nevery trade, we shall never prosper.\nBawd Thou sayest true: 'tis not our bringing up of poor\nbastards,--as, I think, I have brought up some eleven--\nBOULT Ay, to eleven; and brought them down again. But\nshall I search the market?\nBawd What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind\nwill blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden.\nPandar Thou sayest true; they're too unwholesome, o'\nconscience. The poor Transylvanian is dead, that\nlay with the little baggage.\nBOULT Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat\nfor worms. But I'll go search the market.\n[Exit]\nPandar Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a\nproportion to live quietly, and so give over.\nBawd Why to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get\nwhen we are old?\nPandar O, our credit comes not in like the commodity, nor\nthe commodity wages not with the danger: therefore,\nif in our youths we could pick up some pretty\nestate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched.\nBesides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods\nwill be strong with us for giving over.\nBawd Come, other sorts offend as well as we.\nPandar As well as we! ay, and better too; we offend worse.\nNeither is our profession any trade; it's no\ncalling. But here comes Boult.\n[Re-enter BOULT, with the Pirates and MARINA]\nBOULT [To MARINA] Come your ways. My masters, you say\nshe's a virgin?\nFirst Pirate O, sir, we doubt it not.\nBOULT Master, I have gone through for this piece, you see:\nif you like her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest.\nBawd Boult, has she any qualities?\nBOULT She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent\ngood clothes: there's no further necessity of\nqualities can make her be refused.\nBawd What's her price, Boult?\nBOULT I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces.\nPandar Well, follow me, my masters, you shall have your\nmoney presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her\nwhat she has to do, that she may not be raw in her\nentertainment.\n[Exeunt Pandar and Pirates]\nBawd Boult, take you the marks of her, the colour of her\nhair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her\nvirginity; and cry 'He that will give most shall\nhave her first.' Such a maidenhead were no cheap\nthing, if men were as they have been. Get this done\nas I command you.\nBOULT Performance shall follow.\n[Exit]\nMARINA Alack that Leonine was so slack, so slow!\nHe should have struck, not spoke; or that these pirates,\nNot enough barbarous, had not o'erboard thrown me\nFor to seek my mother!\nBawd Why lament you, pretty one?\nMARINA That I am pretty.\nBawd Come, the gods have done their part in you.\nMARINA I accuse them not.\nBawd You are light into my hands, where you are like to live.\nMARINA The more my fault\nTo scape his hands where I was like to die.\nBawd Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.\nMARINA No.\nBawd Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all\nfashions: you shall fare well; you shall have the\ndifference of all complexions. What! do you stop your ears?\nMARINA Are you a woman?\nBawd What would you have me be, an I be not a woman?\nMARINA An honest woman, or not a woman.\nBawd Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think I shall have\nsomething to do with you. Come, you're a young\nfoolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have\nyou.\nMARINA The gods defend me!\nBawd If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men\nmust comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir\nyou up. Boult's returned.\n[Re-enter BOULT]\nNow, sir, hast thou cried her through the market?\nBOULT I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs;\nI have drawn her picture with my voice.\nBawd And I prithee tell me, how dost thou find the\ninclination of the people, especially of the younger sort?\nBOULT 'Faith, they listened to me as they would have\nhearkened to their father's testament. There was a\nSpaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to\nher very description.\nBawd We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on.\nBOULT To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the\nFrench knight that cowers i' the hams?\nBawd Who, Monsieur Veroles?\nBOULT Ay, he: he offered to cut a caper at the\nproclamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore\nhe would see her to-morrow.\nBawd Well, well; as for him, he brought his disease\nhither: here he does but repair it. I know he will\ncome in our shadow, to scatter his crowns in the\nsun.\nBOULT Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we\nshould lodge them with this sign.\nBawd [To MARINA] Pray you, come hither awhile. You\nhave fortunes coming upon you. Mark me: you must\nseem to do that fearfully which you commit\nwillingly, despise profit where you have most gain.\nTo weep that you live as ye do makes pity in your\nlovers: seldom but that pity begets you a good\nopinion, and that opinion a mere profit.\nMARINA I understand you not.\nBOULT O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these\nblushes of hers must be quenched with some present practise.\nBawd Thou sayest true, i' faith, so they must; for your\nbride goes to that with shame which is her way to go\nwith warrant.\nBOULT 'Faith, some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if\nI have bargained for the joint,--\nBawd Thou mayst cut a morsel off the spit.\nBOULT I may so.\nBawd Who should deny it? Come, young one, I like the\nmanner of your garments well.\nBOULT Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet.\nBawd Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a\nsojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom.\nWhen nature flamed this piece, she meant thee a good\nturn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou\nhast the harvest out of thine own report.\nBOULT I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake\nthe beds of eels as my giving out her beauty stir up\nthe lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home some to-night.\nBawd Come your ways; follow me.\nMARINA If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,\nUntied I still my virgin knot will keep.\nDiana, aid my purpose!\nBawd What have we to do with Diana? Pray you, will you go with us?\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT IV\nSCENE III Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house.\n[Enter CLEON and DIONYZA]\nDIONYZA Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone?\nCLEON O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter\nThe sun and moon ne'er look'd upon!\nDIONYZA I think\nYou'll turn a child again.\nCLEON Were I chief lord of all this spacious world,\nI'ld give it to undo the deed. O lady,\nMuch less in blood than virtue, yet a princess\nTo equal any single crown o' the earth\nI' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine!\nWhom thou hast poison'd too:\nIf thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindness\nBecoming well thy fact: what canst thou say\nWhen noble Pericles shall demand his child?\nDIONYZA That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates,\nTo foster it, nor ever to preserve.\nShe died at night; I'll say so. Who can cross it?\nUnless you play the pious innocent,\nAnd for an honest attribute cry out\n'She died by foul play.'\nCLEON O, go to. Well, well,\nOf all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods\nDo like this worst.\nDIONYZA Be one of those that think\nThe petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence,\nAnd open this to Pericles. I do shame\nTo think of what a noble strain you are,\nAnd of how coward a spirit.\nCLEON To such proceeding\nWho ever but his approbation added,\nThough not his prime consent, he did not flow\nFrom honourable sources.\nDIONYZA Be it so, then:\nYet none does know, but you, how she came dead,\nNor none can know, Leonine being gone.\nShe did disdain my child, and stood between\nHer and her fortunes: none would look on her,\nBut cast their gazes on Marina's face;\nWhilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin\nNot worth the time of day. It pierced me through;\nAnd though you call my course unnatural,\nYou not your child well loving, yet I find\nIt greets me as an enterprise of kindness\nPerform'd to your sole daughter.\nCLEON Heavens forgive it!\nDIONYZA And as for Pericles,\nWhat should he say? We wept after her hearse,\nAnd yet we mourn: her monument\nIs almost finish'd, and her epitaphs\nIn glittering golden characters express\nA general praise to her, and care in us\nAt whose expense 'tis done.\nCLEON Thou art like the harpy,\nWhich, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face,\nSeize with thine eagle's talons.\nDIONYZA You are like one that superstitiously\nDoth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies:\nBut yet I know you'll do as I advise.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT IV\nSCENE IV:\n[Enter GOWER, before the monument of MARINA at Tarsus]\nGOWER Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short;\nSail seas in cockles, have an wish but for't;\nMaking, to take your imagination,\nFrom bourn to bourn, region to region.\nBy you being pardon'd, we commit no crime\nTo use one language in each several clime\nWhere our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you\nTo learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you,\nThe stages of our story. Pericles\nIs now again thwarting the wayward seas,\nAttended on by many a lord and knight.\nTo see his daughter, all his life's delight.\nOld Escanes, whom Helicanus late\nAdvanced in time to great and high estate,\nIs left to govern. Bear you it in mind,\nOld Helicanus goes along behind.\nWell-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought\nThis king to Tarsus,--think his pilot thought;\nSo with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,--\nTo fetch his daughter home, who first is gone.\nLike motes and shadows see them move awhile;\nYour ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile.\nDUMB SHOW.\n[Enter PERICLES, at one door, with all his train;\nCLEON and DIONYZA, at the other. CLEON shows\nPERICLES the tomb; whereat PERICLES makes\nlamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty\npassion departs. Then exeunt CLEON and DIONYZA]\nSee how belief may suffer by foul show!\nThis borrow'd passion stands for true old woe;\nAnd Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd,\nWith sighs shot through, and biggest tears\no'ershower'd,\nLeaves Tarsus and again embarks. He swears\nNever to wash his face, nor cut his hairs:\nHe puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears\nA tempest, which his mortal vessel tears,\nAnd yet he rides it out. Now please you wit.\nThe epitaph is for Marina writ\nBy wicked Dionyza.\n[Reads the inscription on MARINA's monument]\n'The fairest, sweet'st, and best lies here,\nWho wither'd in her spring of year.\nShe was of Tyrus the king's daughter,\nOn whom foul death hath made this slaughter;\nMarina was she call'd; and at her birth,\nThetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth:\nTherefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd,\nHath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd:\nWherefore she does, and swears she'll never stint,\nMake raging battery upon shores of flint.'\nNo visor does become black villany\nSo well as soft and tender flattery.\nLet Pericles believe his daughter's dead,\nAnd bear his courses to be ordered\nBy Lady Fortune; while our scene must play\nHis daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day\nIn her unholy service. Patience, then,\nAnd think you now are all in Mytilene.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT IV\nSCENE V Mytilene. A street before the brothel.\n[Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen]\nFirst Gentleman Did you ever hear the like?\nSecond Gentleman No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she\nbeing once gone.\nFirst Gentleman But to have divinity preached there! did you ever\ndream of such a thing?\nSecond Gentleman No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses:\nshall's go hear the vestals sing?\nFirst Gentleman I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I\nam out of the road of rutting for ever.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT IV\nSCENE VI The same. A room in the brothel.\n[Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT]\nPandar Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she\nhad ne'er come here.\nBawd Fie, fie upon her! she's able to freeze the god\nPriapus, and undo a whole generation. We must\neither get her ravished, or be rid of her. When she\nshould do for clients her fitment, and do me the\nkindness of our profession, she has me her quirks,\nher reasons, her master reasons, her prayers, her\nknees; that she would make a puritan of the devil,\nif he should cheapen a kiss of her.\nBOULT 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us\nof all our cavaliers, and make our swearers priests.\nPandar Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me!\nBawd 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't but by the\nway to the pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised.\nBOULT We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish\nbaggage would but give way to customers.\n[Enter LYSIMACHUS]\nLYSIMACHUS How now! How a dozen of virginities?\nBawd Now, the gods to-bless your honour!\nBOULT I am glad to see your honour in good health.\nLYSIMACHUS You may so; 'tis the better for you that your\nresorters stand upon sound legs. How now!\nwholesome iniquity have you that a man may deal\nwithal, and defy the surgeon?\nBawd We have here one, sir, if she would--but there never\ncame her like in Mytilene.\nLYSIMACHUS If she'ld do the deed of darkness, thou wouldst say.\nBawd Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough.\nLYSIMACHUS Well, call forth, call forth.\nBOULT For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall\nsee a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but--\nLYSIMACHUS What, prithee?\nBOULT O, sir, I can be modest.\nLYSIMACHUS That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it\ngives a good report to a number to be chaste.\n[Exit BOULT]\nBawd Here comes that which grows to the stalk; never\nplucked yet, I can assure you.\n[Re-enter BOULT with MARINA]\nIs she not a fair creature?\nLYSIMACHUS 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage at sea.\nWell, there's for you: leave us.\nBawd I beseech your honour, give me leave: a word, and\nI'll have done presently.\nLYSIMACHUS I beseech you, do.\nBawd [To MARINA] First, I would have you note, this is\nan honourable man.\nMARINA I desire to find him so, that I may worthily note him.\nBawd Next, he's the governor of this country, and a man\nwhom I am bound to.\nMARINA If he govern the country, you are bound to him\nindeed; but how honourable he is in that, I know not.\nBawd Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will\nyou use him kindly? He will line your apron with gold.\nMARINA What he will do graciously, I will thankfully receive.\nLYSIMACHUS Ha' you done?\nBawd My lord, she's not paced yet: you must take some\npains to work her to your manage. Come, we will\nleave his honour and her together. Go thy ways.\n[Exeunt Bawd, Pandar, and BOULT]\nLYSIMACHUS Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade?\nMARINA What trade, sir?\nLYSIMACHUS Why, I cannot name't but I shall offend.\nMARINA I cannot be offended with my trade. Please you to name it.\nLYSIMACHUS How long have you been of this profession?\nMARINA E'er since I can remember.\nLYSIMACHUS Did you go to 't so young? Were you a gamester at\nfive or at seven?\nMARINA Earlier too, sir, if now I be one.\nLYSIMACHUS Why, the house you dwell in proclaims you to be a\ncreature of sale.\nMARINA Do you know this house to be a place of such resort,\nand will come into 't? I hear say you are of\nhonourable parts, and are the governor of this place.\nLYSIMACHUS Why, hath your principal made known unto you who I am?\nMARINA Who is my principal?\nLYSIMACHUS Why, your herb-woman; she that sets seeds and roots\nof shame and iniquity. O, you have heard something\nof my power, and so stand aloof for more serious\nwooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one, my\nauthority shall not see thee, or else look friendly\nupon thee. Come, bring me to some private place:\ncome, come.\nMARINA If you were born to honour, show it now;\nIf put upon you, make the judgment good\nThat thought you worthy of it.\nLYSIMACHUS How's this? how's this? Some more; be sage.\nMARINA For me,\nThat am a maid, though most ungentle fortune\nHave placed me in this sty, where, since I came,\nDiseases have been sold dearer than physic,\nO, that the gods\nWould set me free from this unhallow'd place,\nThough they did change me to the meanest bird\nThat flies i' the purer air!\nLYSIMACHUS I did not think\nThou couldst have spoke so well; ne'er dream'd thou couldst.\nHad I brought hither a corrupted mind,\nThy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for thee:\nPersever in that clear way thou goest,\nAnd the gods strengthen thee!\nMARINA The good gods preserve you!\nLYSIMACHUS For me, be you thoughten\nThat I came with no ill intent; for to me\nThe very doors and windows savour vilely.\nFare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and\nI doubt not but thy training hath been noble.\nHold, here's more gold for thee.\nA curse upon him, die he like a thief,\nThat robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost\nHear from me, it shall be for thy good.\n[Re-enter BOULT]\nBOULT I beseech your honour, one piece for me.\nLYSIMACHUS Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper!\nYour house, but for this virgin that doth prop it,\nWould sink and overwhelm you. Away!\n[Exit]\nBOULT How's this? We must take another course with you.\nIf your peevish chastity, which is not worth a\nbreakfast in the cheapest country under the cope,\nshall undo a whole household, let me be gelded like\na spaniel. Come your ways.\nMARINA Whither would you have me?\nBOULT I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the common\nhangman shall execute it. Come your ways. We'll\nhave no more gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say.\n[Re-enter Bawd]\nBawd How now! what's the matter?\nBOULT Worse and worse, mistress; she has here spoken holy\nwords to the Lord Lysimachus.\nBawd O abominable!\nBOULT She makes our profession as it were to stink afore\nthe face of the gods.\nBawd Marry, hang her up for ever!\nBOULT The nobleman would have dealt with her like a\nnobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a\nsnowball; saying his prayers too.\nBawd Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure:\ncrack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable.\nBOULT An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she\nis, she shall be ploughed.\nMARINA Hark, hark, you gods!\nBawd She conjures: away with her! Would she had never\ncome within my doors! Marry, hang you! She's born\nto undo us. Will you not go the way of women-kind?\nMarry, come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays!\n[Exit]\nBOULT Come, mistress; come your ways with me.\nMARINA Whither wilt thou have me?\nBOULT To take from you the jewel you hold so dear.\nMARINA Prithee, tell me one thing first.\nBOULT Come now, your one thing.\nMARINA What canst thou wish thine enemy to be?\nBOULT Why, I could wish him to be my master, or rather, my mistress.\nMARINA Neither of these are so bad as thou art,\nSince they do better thee in their command.\nThou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend\nOf hell would not in reputation change:\nThou art the damned doorkeeper to every\nCoistrel that comes inquiring for his Tib;\nTo the choleric fisting of every rogue\nThy ear is liable; thy food is such\nAs hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.\nBOULT What would you have me do? go to the wars, would\nyou? where a man may serve seven years for the loss\nof a leg, and have not money enough in the end to\nbuy him a wooden one?\nMARINA Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty\nOLD receptacles, or common shores, of filth;\nServe by indenture to the common hangman:\nAny of these ways are yet better than this;\nFor what thou professest, a baboon, could he speak,\nWould own a name too dear. O, that the gods\nWould safely deliver me from this place!\nHere, here's gold for thee.\nIf that thy master would gain by thee,\nProclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance,\nWith other virtues, which I'll keep from boast:\nAnd I will undertake all these to teach.\nI doubt not but this populous city will\nYield many scholars.\nBOULT But can you teach all this you speak of?\nMARINA Prove that I cannot, take me home again,\nAnd prostitute me to the basest groom\nThat doth frequent your house.\nBOULT Well, I will see what I can do for thee: if I can\nplace thee, I will.\nMARINA But amongst honest women.\nBOULT 'Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst them.\nBut since my master and mistress have bought you,\nthere's no going but by their consent: therefore I\nwill make them acquainted with your purpose, and I\ndoubt not but I shall find them tractable enough.\nCome, I'll do for thee what I can; come your ways.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT V\n[Enter GOWER]\nGOWER Marina thus the brothel 'scapes, and chances\nInto an honest house, our story says.\nShe sings like one immortal, and she dances\nAs goddess-like to her admired lays;\nDeep clerks she dumbs; and with her needle composes\nNature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry,\nThat even her art sisters the natural roses;\nHer inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry:\nThat pupils lacks she none of noble race,\nWho pour their bounty on her; and her gain\nShe gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place;\nAnd to her father turn our thoughts again,\nWhere we left him, on the sea. We there him lost;\nWhence, driven before the winds, he is arrived\nHere where his daughter dwells; and on this coast\nSuppose him now at anchor. The city strived\nGod Neptune's annual feast to keep: from whence\nLysimachus our Tyrian ship espies,\nHis banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense;\nAnd to him in his barge with fervor hies.\nIn your supposing once more put your sight\nOf heavy Pericles; think this his bark:\nWhere what is done in action, more, if might,\nShall be discover'd; please you, sit and hark.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT V\nSCENE I On board PERICLES' ship, off Mytilene. A close\npavilion on deck, with a curtain before it; PERICLES\nwithin it, reclined on a couch. A barge lying\nbeside the Tyrian vessel.\n[Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian\nvessel, the other to the barge; to them HELICANUS]\nTyrian Sailor [To the Sailor of Mytilene] Where is lord Helicanus?\nhe can resolve you.\nO, here he is.\nSir, there's a barge put off from Mytilene,\nAnd in it is Lysimachus the governor,\nWho craves to come aboard. What is your will?\nHELICANUS That he have his. Call up some gentlemen.\nTyrian Sailor Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls.\n[Enter two or three Gentlemen]\nFirst Gentleman Doth your lordship call?\nHELICANUS Gentlemen, there's some of worth would come aboard;\nI pray ye, greet them fairly.\n[The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descend, and go\non board the barge]\n[Enter, from thence, LYSIMACHUS and Lords; with the\nGentlemen and the two Sailors]\nTyrian Sailor Sir,\nThis is the man that can, in aught you would,\nResolve you.\nLYSIMACHUS Hail, reverend sir! the gods preserve you!\nHELICANUS And you, sir, to outlive the age I am,\nAnd die as I would do.\nLYSIMACHUS You wish me well.\nBeing on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs,\nSeeing this goodly vessel ride before us,\nI made to it, to know of whence you are.\nHELICANUS First, what is your place?\nLYSIMACHUS I am the governor of this place you lie before.\nHELICANUS Sir,\nOur vessel is of Tyre, in it the king;\nA man who for this three months hath not spoken\nTo any one, nor taken sustenance\nBut to prorogue his grief.\nLYSIMACHUS Upon what ground is his distemperature?\nHELICANUS 'Twould be too tedious to repeat;\nBut the main grief springs from the loss\nOf a beloved daughter and a wife.\nLYSIMACHUS May we not see him?\nHELICANUS You may;\nBut bootless is your sight: he will not speak To any.\nLYSIMACHUS Yet let me obtain my wish.\nHELICANUS Behold him.\n[PERICLES discovered]\nThis was a goodly person,\nTill the disaster that, one mortal night,\nDrove him to this.\nLYSIMACHUS Sir king, all hail! the gods preserve you!\nHail, royal sir!\nHELICANUS It is in vain; he will not speak to you.\nFirst Lord Sir,\nWe have a maid in Mytilene, I durst wager,\nWould win some words of him.\nLYSIMACHUS 'Tis well bethought.\nShe questionless with her sweet harmony\nAnd other chosen attractions, would allure,\nAnd make a battery through his deafen'd parts,\nWhich now are midway stopp'd:\nShe is all happy as the fairest of all,\nAnd, with her fellow maids is now upon\nThe leafy shelter that abuts against\nThe island's side.\n[Whispers a Lord, who goes off in the barge of\nLYSIMACHUS]\nHELICANUS Sure, all's effectless; yet nothing we'll omit\nThat bears recovery's name. But, since your kindness\nWe have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you\nThat for our gold we may provision have,\nWherein we are not destitute for want,\nBut weary for the staleness.\nLYSIMACHUS O, sir, a courtesy\nWhich if we should deny, the most just gods\nFor every graff would send a caterpillar,\nAnd so afflict our province. Yet once more\nLet me entreat to know at large the cause\nOf your king's sorrow.\nHELICANUS Sit, sir, I will recount it to you:\nBut, see, I am prevented.\n[Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with MARINA, and a\nyoung Lady]\nLYSIMACHUS O, here is\nThe lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one!\nIs't not a goodly presence?\nHELICANUS She's a gallant lady.\nLYSIMACHUS She's such a one, that, were I well assured\nCame of a gentle kind and noble stock,\nI'ld wish no better choice, and think me rarely wed.\nFair one, all goodness that consists in bounty\nExpect even here, where is a kingly patient:\nIf that thy prosperous and artificial feat\nCan draw him but to answer thee in aught,\nThy sacred physic shall receive such pay\nAs thy desires can wish.\nMARINA Sir, I will use\nMy utmost skill in his recovery, Provided\nThat none but I and my companion maid\nBe suffer'd to come near him.\nLYSIMACHUS Come, let us leave her;\nAnd the gods make her prosperous!\n[MARINA sings]\nLYSIMACHUS Mark'd he your music?\nMARINA No, nor look'd on us.\nLYSIMACHUS See, she will speak to him.\nMARINA Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear.\nPERICLES Hum, ha!\nMARINA I am a maid,\nMy lord, that ne'er before invited eyes,\nBut have been gazed on like a comet: she speaks,\nMy lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief\nMight equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd.\nThough wayward fortune did malign my state,\nMy derivation was from ancestors\nWho stood equivalent with mighty kings:\nBut time hath rooted out my parentage,\nAnd to the world and awkward casualties\nBound me in servitude.\n[Aside]\nI will desist;\nBut there is something glows upon my cheek,\nAnd whispers in mine ear, 'Go not till he speak.'\nPERICLES My fortunes--parentage--good parentage--\nTo equal mine!--was it not thus? what say you?\nMARINA I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage,\nYou would not do me violence.\nPERICLES I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me.\nYou are like something that--What country-woman?\nHere of these shores?\nMARINA No, nor of any shores:\nYet I was mortally brought forth, and am\nNo other than I appear.\nPERICLES I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.\nMy dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one\nMy daughter might have been: my queen's square brows;\nHer stature to an inch; as wand-like straight;\nAs silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like\nAnd cased as richly; in pace another Juno;\nWho starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry,\nThe more she gives them speech. Where do you live?\nMARINA Where I am but a stranger: from the deck\nYou may discern the place.\nPERICLES Where were you bred?\nAnd how achieved you these endowments, which\nYou make more rich to owe?\nMARINA If I should tell my history, it would seem\nLike lies disdain'd in the reporting.\nPERICLES Prithee, speak:\nFalseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st\nModest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace\nFor the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will\nbelieve thee,\nAnd make my senses credit thy relation\nTo points that seem impossible; for thou look'st\nLike one I loved indeed. What were thy friends?\nDidst thou not say, when I did push thee back--\nWhich was when I perceived thee--that thou camest\nFrom good descending?\nMARINA So indeed I did.\nPERICLES Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st\nThou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury,\nAnd that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine,\nIf both were open'd.\nMARINA Some such thing\nI said, and said no more but what my thoughts\nDid warrant me was likely.\nPERICLES Tell thy story;\nIf thine consider'd prove the thousandth part\nOf my endurance, thou art a man, and I\nHave suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look\nLike Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling\nExtremity out of act. What were thy friends?\nHow lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin?\nRecount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me.\nMARINA My name is Marina.\nPERICLES O, I am mock'd,\nAnd thou by some incensed god sent hither\nTo make the world to laugh at me.\nMARINA Patience, good sir,\nOr here I'll cease.\nPERICLES Nay, I'll be patient.\nThou little know'st how thou dost startle me,\nTo call thyself Marina.\nMARINA The name\nWas given me by one that had some power,\nMy father, and a king.\nPERICLES How! a king's daughter?\nAnd call'd Marina?\nMARINA You said you would believe me;\nBut, not to be a troubler of your peace,\nI will end here.\nPERICLES But are you flesh and blood?\nHave you a working pulse? and are no fairy?\nMotion! Well; speak on. Where were you born?\nAnd wherefore call'd Marina?\nMARINA Call'd Marina\nFor I was born at sea.\nPERICLES At sea! what mother?\nMARINA My mother was the daughter of a king;\nWho died the minute I was born,\nAs my good nurse Lychorida hath oft\nDeliver'd weeping.\nPERICLES O, stop there a little!\n[Aside]\nThis is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep\nDid mock sad fools withal: this cannot be:\nMy daughter's buried. Well: where were you bred?\nI'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,\nAnd never interrupt you.\nMARINA You scorn: believe me, 'twere best I did give o'er.\nPERICLES I will believe you by the syllable\nOf what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave:\nHow came you in these parts? where were you bred?\nMARINA The king my father did in Tarsus leave me;\nTill cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,\nDid seek to murder me: and having woo'd\nA villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do't,\nA crew of pirates came and rescued me;\nBrought me to Mytilene. But, good sir,\nWhither will you have me? Why do you weep?\nIt may be,\nYou think me an impostor: no, good faith;\nI am the daughter to King Pericles,\nIf good King Pericles be.\nPERICLES Ho, Helicanus!\nHELICANUS Calls my lord?\nPERICLES Thou art a grave and noble counsellor,\nMost wise in general: tell me, if thou canst,\nWhat this maid is, or what is like to be,\nThat thus hath made me weep?\nHELICANUS I know not; but\nHere is the regent, sir, of Mytilene\nSpeaks nobly of her.\nLYSIMACHUS She would never tell\nHer parentage; being demanded that,\nShe would sit still and weep.\nPERICLES O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir;\nGive me a gash, put me to present pain;\nLest this great sea of joys rushing upon me\nO'erbear the shores of my mortality,\nAnd drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither,\nThou that beget'st him that did thee beget;\nThou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus,\nAnd found at sea again! O Helicanus,\nDown on thy knees, thank the holy gods as loud\nAs thunder threatens us: this is Marina.\nWhat was thy mother's name? tell me but that,\nFor truth can never be confirm'd enough,\nThough doubts did ever sleep.\nMARINA First, sir, I pray,\nWhat is your title?\nPERICLES I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now\nMy drown'd queen's name, as in the rest you said\nThou hast been godlike perfect,\nThe heir of kingdoms and another like\nTo Pericles thy father.\nMARINA Is it no more to be your daughter than\nTo say my mother's name was Thaisa?\nThaisa was my mother, who did end\nThe minute I began.\nPERICLES Now, blessing on thee! rise; thou art my child.\nGive me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus;\nShe is not dead at Tarsus, as she should have been,\nBy savage Cleon: she shall tell thee all;\nWhen thou shalt kneel, and justify in knowledge\nShe is thy very princess. Who is this?\nHELICANUS Sir, 'tis the governor of Mytilene,\nWho, hearing of your melancholy state,\nDid come to see you.\nPERICLES I embrace you.\nGive me my robes. I am wild in my beholding.\nO heavens bless my girl! But, hark, what music?\nTell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him\nO'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt,\nHow sure you are my daughter. But, what music?\nHELICANUS My lord, I hear none.\nPERICLES None!\nThe music of the spheres! List, my Marina.\nLYSIMACHUS It is not good to cross him; give him way.\nPERICLES Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear?\nLYSIMACHUS My lord, I hear.\n[Music]\nPERICLES Most heavenly music!\nIt nips me unto listening, and thick slumber\nHangs upon mine eyes: let me rest.\n[Sleeps]\nLYSIMACHUS A pillow for his head:\nSo, leave him all. Well, my companion friends,\nIf this but answer to my just belief,\nI'll well remember you.\n[Exeunt all but PERICLES]\n[DIANA appears to PERICLES as in a vision]\nDIANA My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee thither,\nAnd do upon mine altar sacrifice.\nThere, when my maiden priests are met together,\nBefore the people all,\nReveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife:\nTo mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call\nAnd give them repetition to the life.\nOr perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe;\nDo it, and happy; by my silver bow!\nAwake, and tell thy dream.\n[Disappears]\nPERICLES Celestial Dian, goddess argentine,\nI will obey thee. Helicanus!\n[Re-enter HELICANUS, LYSIMACHUS, and MARINA]\nHELICANUS Sir?\nPERICLES My purpose was for Tarsus, there to strike\nThe inhospitable Cleon; but I am\nFor other service first: toward Ephesus\nTurn our blown sails; eftsoons I'll tell thee why.\n[To LYSIMACHUS]\nShall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore,\nAnd give you gold for such provision\nAs our intents will need?\nLYSIMACHUS Sir,\nWith all my heart; and, when you come ashore,\nI have another suit.\nPERICLES You shall prevail,\nWere it to woo my daughter; for it seems\nYou have been noble towards her.\nLYSIMACHUS Sir, lend me your arm.\nPERICLES Come, my Marina.\n[Exeunt]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT V\nSCENE II:\n[Enter GOWER, before the temple of DIANA at Ephesus]\nGOWER Now our sands are almost run;\nMore a little, and then dumb.\nThis, my last boon, give me,\nFor such kindness must relieve me,\nThat you aptly will suppose\nWhat pageantry, what feats, what shows,\nWhat minstrelsy, and pretty din,\nThe regent made in Mytilene\nTo greet the king. So he thrived,\nThat he is promised to be wived\nTo fair Marina; but in no wise\nTill he had done his sacrifice,\nAs Dian bade: whereto being bound,\nThe interim, pray you, all confound.\nIn feather'd briefness sails are fill'd,\nAnd wishes fall out as they're will'd.\nAt Ephesus, the temple see,\nOur king and all his company.\nThat he can hither come so soon,\nIs by your fancy's thankful doom.\n[Exit]\nPERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE\nACT V\nSCENE III The temple of Diana at Ephesus; THAISA standing\nnear the altar, as high priestess; a number of\nVirgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants\nof Ephesus attending.\n[Enter PERICLES, with his train; LYSIMACHUS,\nHELICANUS, MARINA, and a Lady]\nPERICLES Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command,\nI here confess myself the king of Tyre;\nWho, frighted from my country, did wed\nAt Pentapolis the fair Thaisa.\nAt sea in childbed died she, but brought forth\nA maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess,\nWears yet thy silver livery. She at Tarsus\nWas nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years\nHe sought to murder: but her better stars\nBrought her to Mytilene; 'gainst whose shore\nRiding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us,\nWhere, by her own most clear remembrance, she\nMade known herself my daughter.\nTHAISA Voice and favour!\nYou are, you are--O royal Pericles!\n[Faints]\nPERICLES What means the nun? she dies! help, gentlemen!\nCERIMON Noble sir,\nIf you have told Diana's altar true,\nThis is your wife.\nPERICLES Reverend appearer, no;\nI threw her overboard with these very arms.\nCERIMON Upon this coast, I warrant you.\nPERICLES 'Tis most certain.\nCERIMON Look to the lady; O, she's but o'erjoy'd.\nEarly in blustering morn this lady was\nThrown upon this shore. I oped the coffin,\nFound there rich jewels; recover'd her, and placed her\nHere in Diana's temple.\nPERICLES May we see them?\nCERIMON Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house,\nWhither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is recovered.\nTHAISA O, let me look!\nIf he be none of mine, my sanctity\nWill to my sense bend no licentious ear,\nBut curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord,\nAre you not Pericles? Like him you spake,\nLike him you are: did you not name a tempest,\nA birth, and death?\nPERICLES The voice of dead Thaisa!\nTHAISA That Thaisa am I, supposed dead\nAnd drown'd.\nPERICLES Immortal Dian!\nTHAISA Now I know you better.\nWhen we with tears parted Pentapolis,\nThe king my father gave you such a ring.\n[Shows a ring]\nPERICLES This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness\nMakes my past miseries sports: you shall do well,\nThat on the touching of her lips I may\nMelt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried\nA second time within these arms.\nMARINA My heart\nLeaps to be gone into my mother's bosom.\n[Kneels to THAISA]\nPERICLES Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa;\nThy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina\nFor she was yielded there.\nTHAISA Blest, and mine own!\nHELICANUS Hail, madam, and my queen!\nTHAISA I know you not.\nPERICLES You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre,\nI left behind an ancient substitute:\nCan you remember what I call'd the man?\nI have named him oft.\nTHAISA 'Twas Helicanus then.\nPERICLES Still confirmation:\nEmbrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he.\nNow do I long to hear how you were found;\nHow possibly preserved; and who to thank,\nBesides the gods, for this great miracle.\nTHAISA Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man,\nThrough whom the gods have shown their power; that can\nFrom first to last resolve you.\nPERICLES Reverend sir,\nThe gods can have no mortal officer\nMore like a god than you. Will you deliver\nHow this dead queen re-lives?\nCERIMON I will, my lord.\nBeseech you, first go with me to my house,\nWhere shall be shown you all was found with her;\nHow she came placed here in the temple;\nNo needful thing omitted.\nPERICLES Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision! I\nWill offer night-oblations to thee. Thaisa,\nThis prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter,\nShall marry her at Pentapolis. And now,\nThis ornament\nMakes me look dismal will I clip to form;\nAnd what this fourteen years no razor touch'd,\nTo grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.\nTHAISA Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, sir,\nMy father's dead.\nPERICLES Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen,\nWe'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves\nWill in that kingdom spend our following days:\nOur son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign.\nLord Cerimon, we do our longing stay\nTo hear the rest untold: sir, lead's the way.\n[Exeunt]\n[Enter GOWER]\nGOWER In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard\nOf monstrous lust the due and just reward:\nIn Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen,\nAlthough assail'd with fortune fierce and keen,\nVirtue preserved from fell destruction's blast,\nLed on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last:\nIn Helicanus may you well descry\nA figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:\nIn reverend Cerimon there well appears\nThe worth that learned charity aye wears:\nFor wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame\nHad spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name\nOf Pericles, to rage the city turn,\nThat him and his they in his palace burn;\nThe gods for murder seemed so content\nTo punish them; although not done, but meant.\nSo, on your patience evermore attending,\nNew joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.\n[Exit]","title":"Pericles, Prince of Tyre","type":"page"}