Act I. Scene IV.


Tarsus. A Room in the Governor’s House.
   
 
Enter CLEON, DIONYZA, and Attendants.
   
  Cle.  My Dionyza, shall we rest us here,   
And by relating tales of others’ griefs,      4
See if ’twill teach us to forget our own?   
  Dio.  That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it;   
For who digs hills because they do aspire   
Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher.      8
O my distressed lord! even such our griefs are;   
Here they’re but felt, and seen with mischief’s eyes,   
But like to groves, being topp’d, they higher rise.   
  Cle.  O Dionyza,     12
Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it,   
Or can conceal his hunger till he famish?   
Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep   
Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep     16
Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder;   
That if heaven slumber while their creatures want,   
They may awake their helps to comfort them.   
I’ll then discourse our woes, felt several years,     20
And wanting breath to speak help me with tears.   
  Dio.  I’ll do my best, sir.   
  Cle.  This Tarsus, o’er which I have the government,   
A city on whom plenty held full hand,     24
For riches strew’d herself even in the streets;   
Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss’d the clouds,   
And strangers ne’er beheld but wonder’d at;   
Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn’d,     28
Like one another’s glass to trim them by:   
Their tables were stor’d full to glad the sight,   
And not so much to feed on as delight;   
All poverty was scorn’d, and pride so great,     32
The name of help grew odious to repeat.   
  Dio.  O! ’tis too true.   
  Cle.  But see what heaven can do! By this our change,   
These mouths, whom but of late earth, sea, and air     36
Were all too little to content and please,   
Although they gave their creatures in abundance,   
As houses are defil’d for want of use,   
They are now starv’d for want of exercise;     40
Those palates who, not yet two summers younger,   
Must have inventions to delight the taste,   
Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it;   
Those mothers who, to nousle up their babes,     44
Thought nought too curious, are ready now   
To eat those little darlings whom they lov’d.   
So sharp are hunger’s teeth, that man and wife   
Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life.     48
Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping;   
Here many sink, yet those which see them fall   
Have scarce strength left to give them burial.   
Is not this true?     52
  Dio.  Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.   
  Cle.  O! let those cities that of plenty’s cup   
And her prosperities so largely taste,   
With their superfluous riots, hear these tears:     56
The misery of Tarsus may be theirs.   
 
Enter a Lord.
   
  Lord.  Where’s the lord governor?   
  Cle.  Here.     60
Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring’st in haste,   
For comfort is too far for us to expect.   
  Lord.  We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore,   
A portly sail of ships make hitherward.     64
  Cle.  I thought as much.   
One sorrow never comes but brings an heir   
That may succeed as his inheritor;   
And so in ours. Some neighbouring nation,     68
Taking advantage of our misery,   
Hath stuff’d these hollow vessels with their power,   
To beat us down, the which are down already;   
And make a conquest of unhappy me,     72
Whereas no glory’s got to overcome.   
  Lord.  That’s the least fear; for by the semblance   
Of their white flags display’d, they bring us peace,   
And come to us as favourers, not as foes.     76
  Cle.  Thou speak’st like him ’s untutor’d to repeat:   
Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.   
But bring they what they will and what they can,   
What need we fear?     80
The ground’s the lowest and we are half way there.   
Go tell their general we attend him here,   
To know for what he comes, and whence he comes,   
And what he craves.     84
  Lord.  I go, my lord.  [Exit.   
  Cle.  Welcome is peace if he on peace consist;   
If wars we are unable to resist.   
 
Enter PERICLES, with Attendants.
     88
  Per.  Lord governor, for so we hear you are,   
Let not our ships and number of our men,   
Be like a beacon fir’d to amaze your eyes.   
We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre,     92
And seen the desolation of your streets:   
Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears,   
But to relieve them of their heavy load;   
And these our ships, you happily may think     96
Are like the Trojan horse was stuff’d within   
With bloody veins, expecting overthrow,   
Are stor’d with corn to make your needy bread,   
And give them life whom hunger starv’d half dead.    100
  All.  The gods of Greece protect you!   
And we’ll pray for you.   
  Per.        Arise, I pray you, rise:   
We do not look for reverence, but for love,    104
And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men.   
  Cle.  The which when any shall not gratify,   
Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought,   
Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves,    108
The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils!   
Till when—the which, I hope, shall ne’er be seen—   
Your Grace is welcome to our town and us.   
  Per.  Which welcome we’ll accept; feast here awhile,    112
Until our stars that frown lend us a smile.  [Exeunt.   

Act II. Prologue.


Enter GOWER.
   
Here have you seen a mighty king   
His child, I wis, to incest bring;   
A better prince and benign lord,      4
That will prove awful both in deed and word.   
Be quiet, then, as men should be,   
Till he hath pass’d necessity.   
I’ll show you those in troubles reign,      8
Losing a mite, a mountain gain.   
The good in conversation,   
To whom I give my benison,   
Is still at Tarsus, where each man     12
Thinks all is writ he speken can;   
And, to remember what he does,   
Build his statue to make him glorious:   
But tidings to the contrary     16
Are brought your eyes; what need speak I?   
 
DUMB SHOW.
   
 
Enter, from one side, PERICLES, talking with CLEON; all their Train with them. Enter, at another door, a Gentleman, with a letter to PERICLES; who shows the letter to CLEON; then gives the Messenger a reward, and knights him. Exeunt PERICLES, CLEON, &c., severally.
   
Good Helicane hath stay’d at home,     20
Not to eat honey like a drone   
From others’ labours; for though he strive   
To killen bad, keep good alive,   
And to fulfil his prince’ desire,     24
Sends word of all that haps in Tyre:   
How Thaliard came full bent with sin   
And had intent to murder him;   
And that in Tarsus was not best     28
Longer for him to make his rest.   
He, doing so, put forth to seas,   
Where when men been, there’s seldom ease;   
For now the wind begins to blow;     32
Thunder above and deeps below   
Make such unquiet, that the ship   
Should house him safe is wrack’d and split;   
And he, good prince, having all lost,     36
By waves from coast to coast is tost.   
All perishen of man, of pelf,   
Ne aught escapen but himself;   
Till Fortune, tir’d with doing bad,     40
Threw him ashore, to give him glad;   
And here he comes. What shall be next,   
Pardon old Gower, this longs the text.  [Exit.   

Act II. Scene I.


Pentapolis. An open Place by the Sea-side.
   
 
Enter PERICLES, wet.
   
  Per.  Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven!   
Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man      4
Is but a substance that must yield to you;   
And I, as fits my nature, do obey you.   
Alas! the sea hath cast me on the rocks,   
Wash’d me from shore to shore, and left me breath      8
Nothing to think on but ensuing death:   
Let it suffice the greatness of your powers   
To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes;   
And having thrown him from your watery grave,     12
Here to have death in peace is all he’ll crave.   
 
Enter three Fishermen.
   
  First Fish.  What, ho, Pilch!   
  Sec. Fish.  Ha! come and bring away the nets.     16
  First Fish.  What, Patch-breech, I say!   
  Third Fish.  What say you, master?   
  First Fish.  Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I’ll fetch thee with a wannion.   
  Third Fish.  Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that were cast away before us even now.     20
  First Fish.  Alas! poor souls; it grieved my heart to hear what pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves.   
  Third Fish.  Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the porpus how he bounced and tumbled? they say they’re half fish half flesh; a plague on them! they ne’er come but I look to be washed. Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea.   
  First Fish.  Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones; I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale; a’ plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at last devours them all at a mouthful. Such whales have I heard on o’ the land, who never leave gaping till they’ve swallowed the whole parish, church, steeple, bells, and all.   
  Per.  [Aside.] A pretty moral.     24
  Third Fish.  But master, if I had been the sexton, I would have been that day in the belfry.   
  Sec. Fish  Why, man?   
  Third Fish.  Because he should have swallowed me too; and when I had been in his belly, I would have kept such a jangling of the bells, that he should never have left till he cast bells, steeple, church, and parish, up again. But if the good King Simonides were of my mind,—   
  Per.  [Aside.] Simonides!     28
  Third Fish.  We would purge the land of these drones, that rob the bee of her honey.   
  Per.  [Aside.] How from the finny subject of the sea   
These fishers tell the infirmities of men;   
And from their watery empire recollect     32
All that may men approve or men detect!   
[Aloud.] Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen.   
  Sec. Fish.  Honest! good fellow, what’s that? if it be a day fits you, search out of the calendar, and nobody look after it.   
  Per.  Y’ may see the sea hath cast me on your coast.     36
  Sec. Fish.  What a drunken knave was the sea, to cast thee in our way!   
  Per.  A man whom both the waters and the wind,   
In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball   
For them to play upon, entreats you pity him;     40
He asks of you, that never us’d to beg.   
  First Fish.  No, friend, cannot you beg? here’s them in our country of Greece gets more with begging than we can do with working.   
  Sec. Fish.  Canst thou catch any fishes then?   
  Per.  I never practised it.     44
  Sec. Fish.  Nay then thou wilt starve, sure; for here’s nothing to be got now-a-days unless thou canst fish for ’t.   
  Per.  What I have been I have forgot to know,   
But what I am want teaches me to think on;   
A man throng’d up with cold; my veins are chill,     48
And have no more of life than may suffice   
To give my tongue that heat to ask your help;   
Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead,   
For that I am a man, pray see me buried.     52
  First Fish.  Die, quoth-a? Now, gods forbid! I have a gown here; come, put it on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a handsome fellow! Come, thou shalt go home, and we’ll have flesh for holidays, fish for fasting-days, and moreo’er puddings and flap-jacks; and thou shalt be welcome.   
  Per.  I thank you, sir.   
  First Fish.  Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg.   
  Per.  I did but crave.     56
  Sec. Fish.  But crave! Then I’ll turn craver too, and so I shall ’scape whipping.   
  Per.  Why, are all your beggars whipped, then?   
  Sec. Fish.  O! not all, my friend, not all; for if all your beggars were whipped, I would wish no better office than to be beadle. But, master, I’ll go draw up the net.  [Exit with Third Fisherman.   
  Per.  How well this honest mirth becomes their labour!     60
  First Fish.  Hark you, sir; do you know where ye are?   
  Per.  Not well.   
  First Fish.  Why, I’ll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and our king the good Simonides.   
  Per.  The good King Simonides do you call him?     64
  First Fish.  Ay, sir; and he deserves to be so called for his peaceable reign and good government.   
  Per.  He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects the name of good by his government. How far is his court distant from this shore?   
  First Fish.  Marry, sir, half a day’s journey; and I’ll tell you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-morrow is her birthday; and there are princes and knights come from all parts of the world to just and tourney for her love.   
  Per.  Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish to make one there.     68
  First Fish.  O! sir, things must be as they may; and what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal for his wife’s soul,—   
 
Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, drawing up a net.
   
  Sec. Fish.  Help, master, help! here’s a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man’s right in the law; ’twill hardly come out. Ha! bots on’t, ’tis come at last, and ’tis turned to a rusty armour.   
  Per.  An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it.     72
Thanks, Fortune, yet, that after all my crosses   
Thou giv’st me somewhat to repair myself;   
And though it was mine own, part of mine heritage,   
Which my dead father did bequeath to me,     76
With this strict charge, even as he left his life,   
‘Keep it, my Pericles, it hath been a shield   
’Twixt me and death;’—and pointed to this brace;   
‘For that it sav’d me, keep it; in like necessity—     80
The which the gods protect thee from!—’t may defend thee.’   
It kept where I kept, I so dearly lov’d it;   
Till the rough seas, that spare not any man,   
Took it in rage, though calm’d they have given ’t again.     84
I thank thee for ’t; my shipwrack now’s no ill,   
Since I have here my father’s gift in ’s will.   
  First Fish.  What mean you, sir?   
  Per.  To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth,     88
For it was sometime target to a king;   
I know it by this mark. He lov’d me dearly,   
And for his sake I wish the having of it;   
And that you’d guide me to your sovereign’s court,     92
Where with it I may appear a gentleman;   
And if that ever my low fortunes better,   
I’ll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor.   
  First Fish.  Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady?     96
  Per.  I’ll show the virtue I have borne in arms.   
  First Fish.  Why, do’e take it; and the gods give thee good on ’t!   
  Sec. Fish.  Ay, but hark you, my friend; ’twas we that made up this garment through the rough seams of the water; there are certain condolements, certain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you’ll remember from whence you had it.   
  Per.  Believe it, I will.    100
By your furtherance I am cloth’d in steel;   
And spite of all the rapture of the sea,   
This jewel holds his biding on my arm:   
Unto thy value will I mount myself    104
Upon a courser, whose delightful steps   
Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread.   
Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided   
Of a pair of bases.    108
  Sec. Fish.  We’ll sure provide; thou shalt have my best gown to make thee a pair, and I’ll bring thee to the court myself.   
  Per.  Then honour be but a goal to my will! This day I’ll rise, or else add ill to ill.  [Exeunt.   

Act II. Scene II.


The Same. A public Way. Platform leading to the Lists. A Pavilion near it, for the reception of the KING, Princess, Ladies, Lords, &c.
   
 
Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, and Attendants.
   
  Sim.  Are the knights ready to begin the triumph?   
  First Lord.  They are, my liege;      4
And stay your coming to present themselves.   
  Sim.  Return them, we are ready; and our daughter,   
In honour of whose birth these triumphs are,   
Sits here, like beauty’s child, whom nature gat      8
For men to see, and seeing wonder at.  [Exit a Lord.   
  Thai.  It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express   
My commendations great, whose merit’s less.   
  Sim.  ’Tis fit it should be so; for princes are     12
A model, which heaven makes like to itself:   
As jewels lose their glory if neglected,   
So princes their renowns if not respected.   
’Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain     16
The labour of each knight in his device.   
  Thai.  Which, to preserve mine honour, I’ll perform.   
 
Enter a Knight; he passes over the stage, and his Squire presents his shield to the Princess.
   
  Sim.  Who is the first that doth prefer himself?     20
  Thai.  A knight of Sparta, my renowned father;   
And the device he bears upon his shield   
Is a black Ethiop reaching at the sun;   
The word, Lux tua vita mihi.     24
  Sim.  He loves you well that holds his life of you.  [The Second Knight passes over.   
Who is the second that presents himself?   
  Thai.  A prince of Macedon, my royal father;   
And the device he bears upon his shield     28
Is an arm’d knight that’s conquer’d by a lady;   
The motto thus, in Spanish, Piu por dulzura que por fuerza.  [The Third Knight passes over.   
  Sim.  And what’s the third?   
  Thai.        The third of Antioch;     32
And his device, a wreath of chivalry;   
The word, Me pompœ provexit apex.  [The Fourth Knight passes over.   
  Sim.  What is the fourth?   
  Thai.  A burning torch that’s turned upside down;     36
The word, Quod me alit me extinguit.   
  Sim.   Which shows that beauty hath his power and will,   
Which can as well inflame as it can kill.  [The Fifth Knight passes over.   
  Thai.  The fifth, a hand environed with clouds,     40
Holding out gold that’s by the touchstone tried;   
The motto thus, Sic spectanda fides.  [The Sixth Knight, PERICLES, passes over.   
  Sim.  And what ’s   
The sixth and last, the which the knight himself     44
With such a graceful courtesy deliver’d?   
  Thai.  He seems to be a stranger; but his present is   
A wither’d branch, that’s only green at top;   
The motto, In hac spe vivo.     48
  Sim.  A pretty moral;   
From the dejected state wherein he is,   
He hopes by you his fortune yet may flourish.   
  First Lord.  He had need mean better than his outward show     52
Can any way speak in his just commend;   
For, by his rusty outside he appears   
To have practis’d more the whipstock than the lance.   
  Sec. Lord.  He well may be a stranger, for he comes     56
To an honour’d triumph strangely furnished.   
  Third Lord.  And on set purpose let his armour rust   
Until this day, to scour it in the dust.   
  Sim.  Opinion’s but a fool, that makes us scan     60
The outward habit by the inward man.   
But stay, the knights are coming; we’ll withdraw   
Into the gallery.  [Exeunt. Great shouts, and all cry, ‘The mean knight!’   

Act II. Scene III.


The Same. A Hall of State. A Banquet prepared.
   
 
Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Marshal, Ladies, Lords, Knights from tilting, and Attendants.
   
  Sim.  Knights,   
To say you’re welcome were superfluous.      4
To place upon the volume of your deeds,   
As in a title-page, your worth in arms,   
Were more than you expect, or more than’s fit,   
Since every worth in show commends itself.      8
Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast:   
You are princes and my guests.   
  Thai.  But you, my knight and guest;   
To whom this wreath of victory I give,     12
And crown you king of this day’s happiness.   
  Per.  ’Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit.   
  Sim.  Call it by what you will, the day is yours;   
And here, I hope, is none that envies it.     16
In framing an artist art hath thus decreed,   
To make some good, but others to exceed;   
And you’re her labour’d scholar. Come, queen o’ the feast,—   
For, daughter, so you are,—here take your place;     20
Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace.   
  Knights.  We are honour’d much by good Simonides.   
  Sim.  Your presence glads our days; honour we love,   
For who hates honour, hates the gods above.     24
  Marshal.  Sir, yonder is your place.   
  Per.        Some other is more fit.   
  First Knight.  Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen   
That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes     28
Envy the great nor do the low despise.   
  Per.  You are right courteous knights.   
  Sim.        Sit, sir; sit.   
  Per.  By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts,     32
These cates resist me, she but thought upon.   
  Thai.  [Aside.] By Juno, that is queen of marriage,   
All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury,   
Wishing him my meat. Sure, he’s a gallant gentleman.     36
  Sim.  He’s but a country gentleman;   
He has done no more than other knights have done;   
He has broken a staff or so; so let it pass.   
  Thai.  To me he seems like diamond to glass.     40
  Per.  Yon king’s to me like to my father’s picture,   
Which tells me in that glory once he was;   
Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne,   
And he the sun for them to reverence.     44
None that beheld him, but like lesser lights   
Did vail their crowns to his supremacy;   
Where now his son’s like a glow-worm in the night,   
The which hath fire in darkness, none in light:     48
Whereby I see that Time’s the king of men;   
He’s both their parent, and he is their grave,   
And gives them what he will, not what they crave.   
  Sim.  What, are you merry, knights?     52
  First Knight.  Who can be other in this royal presence?   
  Sim.  Here, with a cup that’s stor’d unto the brim,   
As you do love, fill to your mistress’ lips,   
We drink this health to you.     56
  Knights.        We thank your Grace.   
  Sim.  Yet pause awhile;   
Yon knight doth sit too melancholy,   
As if the entertainment in our court     60
Had not a show might countervail his worth.   
Note it not you, Thaisa?   
  Thai.        What is it   
To me, my father?     64
  Sim.        O! attend, my daughter:   
Princes in this should live like gods above,   
Who freely give to every one that comes   
To honour them;     68
And princes not doing so are like to gnats,   
Which make a sound, but kill’d are wonder’d at.   
Therefore to make his entrance more sweet,   
Here say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him.     72
  Thai.  Alas! my father, it befits not me   
Unto a stranger knight to be so bold;   
He may my proffer take for an offence,   
Since men take women’s gifts for impudence.     76
  Sim.  How!   
Do as I bid you, or you’ll move me else.   
  Thai.  [Aside.] Now, by the gods, he could not please me better.   
  Sim.  And further tell him, we desire to know of him,     80
Of whence he is, his name, and parentage.   
  Thai.  The king, my father, sir, has drunk to you.   
  Per.  I thank him.   
  Thai.  Wishing it so much blood unto your life.     84
  Per.  I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely.   
  Thai.  And further he desires to know of you,   
Of whence you are, your name and parentage.   
  Per.  A gentleman of Tyre, my name, Pericles;     88
My education been in arts and arms;   
Who, looking for adventures in the world,   
Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men,   
And after shipwrack, driven upon this shore.     92
  Thai.  He thanks your Grace; names himself Pericles,   
A gentleman of Tyre,   
Who only by misfortune of the seas   
Bereft of ships and men, cast on this shore.     96
  Sim.  Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune,   
And will awake him from his melancholy.   
Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles,   
And waste the time which looks for other revels.    100
Even in your armours, as you are address’d,   
Will very well become a soldier’s dance.   
I will not have excuse, with saying this   
Loud music is too harsh for ladies’ heads    104
Since they love men in arms as well as beds.  [The Knights dance.   
So this was well ask’d, ’twas so well perform’d.   
Come, sir;   
Here is a lady that wants breathing too:    108
And I have often heard, you knights of Tyre   
Are excellent in making ladies trip,   
And that their measures are as excellent.   
  Per.  In those that practise them they are, my lord.    112
  Sim.  O! that’s as much as you would be denied   
Of your fair courtesy.  [The Knights and Ladies dance.   
Unclasp, unclasp;   
Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well,    116
[To PERICLES.] But you the best. Pages and lights, to conduct   
These knights unto their several lodgings! Yours, sir,   
We have given order to be next our own.   
  Per.  I am at your Grace’s pleasure.    120
  Sim.  Princes, it is too late to talk of love,   
And that’s the mark I know you level at;   
Therefore each one betake him to his rest;   
To-morrow all for speeding do their best.  [Exeunt.    124

Act II. Scene IV.


Tyre. A Room in the Governor’s House.
   
 
Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES.
   
  Hel.  No, Escanes, know this of me,   
Antiochus from incest liv’d not free;      4
For which, the most high gods not minding longer   
To withhold the vengeance that they had in store,   
Due to this heinous capital offence,   
Even in the height and pride of all his glory,      8
When he was seated in a chariot   
Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him,   
A fire from heaven came and shrivell’d up   
Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk,     12
That all those eyes ador’d them ere their fall   
Scorn now their hand should give them burial.   
  Esca.  ’Twas very strange.   
  Hel.        And yet but just; for though     16
This king were great, his greatness was no guard   
To bar heaven’s shaft, but sin had his reward.   
  Esca.  ’Tis very true.   
 
Enter two or three Lords.
     20
  First Lord.  See, not a man in private conference   
Or council has respect with him but he.   
  Sec. Lord.  It shall no longer grieve without reproof.   
  Third Lord.  And curs’d be he that will not second it.     24
  First Lord.  Follow me then. Lord Helicane, a word.   
  Hel.  With me? and welcome. Happy day, my lords.   
  First Lord.  Know that our griefs are risen to the top,   
And now at length they overflow their banks.     28
  Hel.  Your griefs! for what? wrong not the prince you love.   
  First Lord.  Wrong not yourself then, noble Helicane;   
But if the prince do live, let us salute him,   
Or know what ground’s made happy by his breath.     32
If in the world he live, we’ll seek him out;   
If in his grave he rest, we’ll find him there;   
And be resolv’d he lives to govern us,   
Or dead, give ’s cause to mourn his funeral,     36
And leaves us to our free election.   
  Sec. Lord.  Whose death’s indeed the strongest in our censure:   
And knowing this kingdom is without a head,   
Like goodly buildings left without a roof     40
Soon fall to ruin, your noble self,   
That best know’st how to rule and how to reign,   
We thus submit unto, our sovereign.   
  All.  Live, noble Helicane!     44
  Hel.  For honour’s cause forbear your suffrages:   
If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear.   
Take I your wish, I leap into the seas,   
Where’s hourly trouble for a minute’s ease.     48
A twelvemonth longer, let me entreat you   
To forbear the absence of your king;   
If in which time expir’d he not return,   
I shall with aged patience bear your yoke.     52
But if I cannot win you to this love,   
Go search like nobles, like noble subjects,   
And in your search spend your adventurous worth;   
Whom if you find, and win unto return,     56
You shall like diamonds sit about his crown.   
  First Lord.  To wisdom he’s a fool that will not yield;   
And since Lord Helicane enjoineth us,   
We with our travels will endeavour it.     60
  Hel.  Then you love us, we you, and we’ll clasp hands:   
When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.  [Exeunt.   

Act II. Scene V.


Pentapolis. A Room in the Palace.
   
 
Enter SIMONIDES, reading a letter; the Knights meet him.
   
  First Knight.  Good morrow to the good Simonides.   
  Sim.  Knights, from my daughter this I let you know,      4
That for this twelvemonth she’ll not undertake   
A married life.   
Her reason to herself is only known,   
Which yet from her by no means can I get.      8
  Sec. Knight.  May we not get access to her, my lord?   
  Sim.  Faith, by no means; she hath so strictly tied   
Her to her chamber that ’tis impossible.   
One twelve moons more she’ll wear Diana’s livery;     12
This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow’d,   
And on her virgin honour will not break it.   
  Third Knight.  Though loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves.  [Exeunt Knights.   
  Sim.  So,     16
They’re well dispatch’d; now to my daughter’s letter.   
She tells me here, she’ll wed the stranger knight,   
Or never more to view nor day nor light.   
’Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine;     20
I like that well: how absolute she’s in ’t,   
Not minding whether I dislike or no!   
Well, I do commend her choice;   
And will no longer have it be delay’d.     24
Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it.   
 
Enter PERICLES.
   
  Per.  All fortune to the good Simonides!   
  Sim.  To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you     28
For your sweet music this last night: I do   
Protest my ears were never better fed   
With such delightful pleasing harmony   
  Per.  It is your Grace’s pleasure to commend,     32
Not my desert.   
  Sim.        Sir, you are music’s master.   
  Per.  The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.   
  Sim.  Let me ask you one thing.     36
What do you think of my daughter, sir?   
  Per.  A most virtuous princess.   
  Sim.  And she is fair too, is she not?   
  Per.  As a fair day in summer; wondrous fair.     40
  Sim.  My daughter, sir, thinks very well of you;   
Ay, so well, that you must be her master,   
And she will be your scholar: therefore look to it.   
  Per.  I am unworthy for her schoolmaster.     44
  Sim.  She thinks not so; peruse this writing else.   
  Per.  [Aside.] What’s here?   
A letter that she loves the knight of Tyre!   
’Tis the king’s subtilty to have my life.     48
O! seek not to entrap me, gracious lord,   
A stranger and distressed gentleman,   
That never aim’d so high to love your daughter,   
But bent all offices to honour her.     52
  Sim.  Thou hast bewitch’d my daughter, and thou art   
A villain.   
  Per.  By the gods, I have not:   
Never did thought of mine levy offence;     56
Nor never did my actions yet commence   
A deed might gain her love or your displeasure.   
  Sim.  Traitor, thou liest.   
  Per.        Traitor!     60
  Sim.        Ay, traitor.   
  Per.  Even in his throat, unless it be the king,   
That calls me traitor, I return the lie.   
  Sim.  [Aside.] Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage.     64
  Per.  My actions are as noble as my thoughts,   
That never relish’d of a base descent.   
I came unto your court for honour’s cause,   
And not to be a rebel to her state;     68
And he that otherwise accounts of me,   
This sword shall prove he’s honour’s enemy.   
  Sim.  No?   
Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.     72
 
Enter THAISA.
   
  Per.  Then, as you are as virtuous as fair,   
Resolve your angry father, if my tongue   
Did e’er solicit, or my hand subscribe     76
To any syllable that made love to you.   
  Thai.  Why, sir, say if you had,   
Who takes offence at that would make me glad?   
  Sim.  Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?     80
[Aside.] I am glad on ’t, with all my heart.   
I’ll tame you; I’ll bring you in subjection.   
Will you, not having my consent,   
Bestow your love and your affections     84
Upon a stranger? [Aside.] who, for aught I know,   
May be, nor can I think the contrary,   
As great in blood as I myself.—   
[Aloud.] Therefore, hear you, mistress; either frame     88
Your will to mine; and you, sir, hear you,   
Either be rul’d by me, or I will make you—   
Man and wife:   
Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too;     92
And being join’d, I’ll thus your hopes destroy;   
And for a further grief,—God give you joy!   
What! are you both pleas’d?   
  Thai.        Yes, if you love me, sir.     96
  Per.  Even as my life, or blood that fosters it.   
  Sim.  What! are you both agreed?   
  Thai.
Per.  Yes, if ’t please your majesty.   
  Sim.  It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed;    100
Then with what haste you can get you to bed.  [Exeunt.   

Act III. Prologue.


Enter GOWER.
   
Now sleep yslaked hath the rout;   
No din but snores the house about,   
Made louder by the o’er-fed breast      4
Of this most pompous marriage-feast.   
The cat, with eyne of burning coal,   
Now couches fore the mouse’s hole;   
And crickets sing at the oven’s mouth,      8
E’er the blither for their drouth.   
Hymen hath brought the bride to bed,   
Where, by the loss of maidenhead,   
A babe is moulded. Be attent;     12
And time that is so briefly spent   
With your fine fancies quaintly eche;   
What’s dumb in show I’ll plain with speech.   
 
DUMB SHOW.
     16
 
Enter, from one side, PERICLES and SIMONIDES, with Attendants; a Messenger meets them, kneels, and gives PERICLES a letter: PERICLES shows it to SIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to PERICLES. Then enter THAISA with child, and LYCHORIDA: SIMONIDES shows his daughter the letter; she rejoices: she and PERICLES take leave of her father, and all depart.
   
By many a dern and painful perch,   
Of Pericles the careful search   
By the four opposing coigns,     20
Which the world together joins,   
Is made with all due diligence   
That horse and sail and high expense,   
Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre,—     24
Fame answering the most strange inquire—   
To the court of King Simonides   
Are letters brought, the tenour these:   
Antiochus and his daughter dead;     28
The men of Tyrus on the head   
Of Helicanus would set on   
The crown of Tyre, but he will none:   
The mutiny he there hastes t’ oppress;     32
Says to ’em, if King Pericles   
Come not home in twice six moons,   
He, obedient to their dooms,   
Will take the crown. The sum of this,     36
Brought hither to Pentapolis,   
Yravished the regions round,   
And every one with claps can sound,   
‘Our heir-apparent is a king!     40
Who dream’d, who thought of such a thing?’   
Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:   
His queen, with child, makes her desire,—   
Which who shall cross?—along to go;     44
Omit we all their dole and woe:   
Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,   
And so to sea. Their vessel shakes   
On Neptune’s billow; half the flood     48
Hath their keel cut: but Fortune’s mood   
Varies again; the grisled north   
Disgorges such a tempest forth,   
That, as a duck for life that dives,     52
So up and down the poor ship drives.   
The lady shrieks, and well-a-near   
Does fall in travail with her fear;   
And what ensues in this fell storm     56
Shall for itself itself perform.   
I nill relate, action may   
Conveniently the rest convey,   
Which might not what by me is told.     60
In your imagination hold   
This stage the ship, upon whose deck   
The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.  [Exit.   

Act III. Scene I.


Enter PERICLES, on shipboard.
   
  Per.  Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these surges,   
Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast   
Upon the winds command, bind them in brass,      4
Having call’d them from the deep. O! still   
Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench   
Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes. O! how Lychorida,   
How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously;      8
Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman’s whistle   
Is as a whisper in the ears of death,   
Unheard. Lychorida! Lucina, O!   
Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle     12
To those that cry by night, convey thy deity   
Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs   
Of my queen’s travails!   
 
Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant.
     16
Now, Lychorida!   
  Lyc.  Here is a thing too young for such a place,   
Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I   
Am like to do: take in your arms this piece     20
Of your dead queen.   
  Per.        How, how, Lychorida!   
  Lyc.  Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.   
Here’s all that is left living of your queen,     24
A little daughter: for the sake of it,   
Be manly, and take comfort.   
  Per.        O you gods!   
Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,     28
And snatch them straight away? We here below,   
Recall not what we give, and therein may   
Use honour with you.   
  Lyc.        Patience, good sir,     32
Even for this charge.   
  Per.        Now, mild may be thy life!   
For a more blust’rous birth had never babe:   
Quiet and gentle thy conditions!     36
For thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world   
That e’er was prince’s child. Happy what follows!   
Thou hast as chiding a nativity   
As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,     40
To herald thee from the womb; even at the first   
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,   
With all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods   
Throw their best eyes upon ’t!     44
 
Enter two Sailors.
   
  First Sail.  What courage, sir? God save you!   
  Per.  Courage enough. I do not fear the flaw; It hath done to me the worst. Yet for the love Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,   
I would it would be quiet.     48
  First Sail.  Slack the bolins there! thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself.   
  Sec. Sail.  But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.   
  First Sail.  Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.   
  Per.  That’s your superstition.     52
  First Sail.  Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still observed, and we are strong in custom. Therefore briefly yield her, for she must overboard straight.   
  Per.  As you think meet. Most wretched queen!   
  Lyc.  Here she lies, sir.   
  Per.  A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear;     56
No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements   
Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time   
To give thee hallow’d to thy grave, but straight   
Must cast thee, scarcely coffin’d, in the ooze;     60
Where, for a monument upon thy bones,   
And aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale   
And humming water must o’erwhelm thy corpse,   
Lying with simple shells! O Lychorida!     64
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,   
My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander   
Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe   
Upon the pillow. Hie thee, whiles I say     68
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.  [Exit LYCHORIDA.   
  Sec. Sail.  Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulk’d and bitumed ready.   
  Per.  I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?   
  Sec. Sail.  We are near Tarsus.     72
  Per.  Thither, gentle mariner,   
Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?   
  Sec. Sail.  By break of day, if the wind cease.   
  Per.  O! make for Tarsus.     76
There will I visit Cleon, for the babe   
Cannot hold out to Tyrus; there I’ll leave it   
At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner;   
I’ll bring the body presently.  [Exeunt. 80

Act III. Scene II.


Ephesus. A Room in CERIMON’S House.
   
 
Enter CERIMON, a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwracked.
   
  Cer.  Philemon, ho!   
 
Enter PHILEMON.
      4
  Phil.  Doth my lord call?   
  Cer.  Get fire and meat for these poor men;   
’T has been a turbulent and stormy night.   
  Ser.  I have been in many; but such a night as this      8
Till now I ne’er endur’d.   
  Cer.  Your master will be dead ere you return;   
There’s nothing can be minister’d to nature   
That can recover him. [To PHILEMON.] Give this to the ’pothecary,     12
And tell me how it works.  [Exeunt all except CERIMON.   
 
Enter two Gentlemen.
   
  First Gent.        Good morrow, sir.   
  Sec. Gent.  Good morrow to your lordship.     16
  Cer.        Gentlemen,   
Why do you stir so early?   
  First Gent.  Sir,   
Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,     20
Shook as the earth did quake;   
The very principals did seem to rend,   
And all to topple. Pure surprise and fear   
Made me to quit the house.     24
  Sec. Gent.  That is the cause we trouble you so early;   
’Tis not our husbandry.   
  Cer.        O! you say well.   
  First Gent.  But I much marvel that your lordship, having     28
Rich tire about you, should at these early hours   
Shake off the golden slumber of repose.   
’Tis most strange,   
Nature should be so conversant with pain,     32
Being thereto not compell’d.   
  Cer.        I hold it ever,   
Virtue and cunning were endowments greater   
Than nobleness and riches; careless heirs     36
May the two latter darken and expend,   
But immortality attends the former,   
Making a man a god. ’Tis known I ever   
Have studied physic, through which secret art,     40
By turning o’er authorities, I have—   
Together with my practice—made familiar   
To me and to my aid the blest infusions   
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;     44
And can speak of the disturbances   
That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me   
A more content in course of true delight   
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,     48
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,   
To please the fool and death.   
  Sec. Gent.  Your honour has through Ephesus pour’d forth   
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves     52
Your creatures, who by you have been restor’d:   
And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even   
Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon   
Such strong renown as time shall ne’er decay.     56
 
Enter two Servants, with a chest.
   
  First Serv.  So; lift there.   
  Cer.        What is that?   
  First Serv.        Sir, even now     60
Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest:   
’Tis of some wrack.   
  Cer.        Set it down; let’s look upon ’t.   
  Sec. Gent.  ’Tis like a coffin, sir.     64
  Cer.        Whate’er it be,   
’Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight;   
If the sea’s stomach be o’ercharg’d with gold,   
’Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.     68
  Sec. Gent.  ’Tis so, my lord.   
  Cer.  How close ’tis caulk’d and bitumed!   
Did the sea cast it up?   
  First Serv.  I never saw so huge a billow, sir,     72
As toss’d it upon shore.   
  Cer.        Come, wrench it open.   
Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.   
  Sec. Gent.  A delicate odour.     76
  Cer.  As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.   
O you most potent gods! what’s here? a corse!   
  First Gent.  Most strange!   
  Cer.  Shrouded in cloth of state; balm’d and entreasur’d     80
With full bags of spices! A passport too!   
Apollo, perfect me i’ the characters!   
Here I give to understand,   
If e’er this coffin drive a-land,     84
I, King Pericles, have lost   
This queen worth all our mundane cost.   
Who finds her, give her burying;   
She was the daughter of a king:     88
Besides this treasure for a fee,   
The gods requite his charity!   
If thou liv’st, Pericles, thou hast a heart   
That even cracks for woe! This chanc’d to-night.     92
  Sec. Gent.  Most likely, sir.   
  Cer.        Nay, certainly to-night;   
For look, how fresh she looks. They were too rough   
That threw her in the sea. Make fire within;     96
Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet.  [Exit Second Servant.   
Death may usurp on nature many hours,   
And yet the fire of life kindle again   
The overpress’d spirits. I heard    100
Of an Egyptian, that had nine hours lien dead,   
Who was by good appliances recovered.   
 
Re-enter Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.
   
Well said, well said; the fire and cloths.    104
The rough and woeful music that we have,   
Cause it to sound, beseech you.   
The viol once more;—how thou stirr’st, thou block!   
The music there! I pray you, give her air.    108
Gentlemen,   
This queen will live; nature awakes, a warmth   
Breathes out of her; she hath not been entranc’d   
Above five hours. See! how she ’gins to blow    112
Into life’s flower again.   
  First Gent.        The heavens   
Through you increase our wonder and set up   
Your fame for ever.    116
  Cer.        She is alive! behold,   
Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels   
Which Pericles hath lost,   
Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;    120
The diamonds of a most praised water   
Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live,   
And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,   
Rare as you seem to be!  [She moves.    124
  Thai.        O dear Diana!   
Where am I? Where’s my lord? What world is this?   
  Sec. Gent.  Is not this strange?   
  First Gent.        Most rare.    128
  Cer.        Hush, gentle neighbours!   
Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her.   
Get linen; now this matter must be look’d to,   
For her relapse is mortal. Come, come;    132
And Æsculapius guide us!  [Exeunt, carrying THAISA away.