by Charles Swan
NOTE 20. Page 251.
“Gower, in the CONFESSIO AMANTIS, may perhaps have copied the circumstance of the morning trumpet from this apologue.
“It so befell, that on a day
There was ordained by the lawe
A trump with a stern breath,
Which was cleped the trump of death:
And in the court where the king was,
A certain man this trumpe of brass
Hath in keeping, and thereof serveth,
That when a lord his death deserveth,
He shall this dreadful trump-e blow,
Before his gate, to make it know,
How that the judg-e-ment is give
Of death, which shall not be forgive.
The king when it was night anon,
This man had sent, and bade him gone,
To trumpen at his brother’s gate;
And he, which he might do algate,1
Goeth forth, and doth the king’s hest.
This lord which heard of this tempest
That he to-fore his gate blew,
Then wist he by the law, and knew
That he was surely dead, &c.
“But Gower has connected with this circumstance a different story, and of an inferior cast, both in point of moral and imagination. The truth is, Gower seems to have altogether followed this story as it appeared in the SPECULUM HISTOEIALE of Vincent of Beauvais, who took it from Damascenus’s romance of BABLAAM AND JOSAPHAT. Part of it is thus told in Caxton’s translation of that legend, fol. 393 :
“‘And the kynge hadde suche a custome, that when one sholde be delyvered to deth, the kynge sholde send hys cryar wyth hys trompe that was ordeyned thereto. And on the even he sente the cryar wyth the trompe tofore hys brother’s gate, and made to soune the trompe. And whan the kyngs brother herde thys, he was in despayr of sauinge hys lyfe, and colde not slepe of all the nyght, and made hys testament. And on the mome erly, he cladde hym in blacke: and came wyth wepyng with hys wyf and chyldren to the kynges paleys. And the kynge made hym to come tofore hym, and sayd to hym, A fooll that thou art, that thou hast herde the messagere of thy brother, to whom thou knowest well thou hast not trespaced, and doubtest so mooche. Howe oughte not I then ne doute the messagures of our Lorde agaynst whom I have soo ofte synned, which signefyed unto me more clerely the deth than the trompe.’”—WARTON.
NOTE 21. Page 265.
“Enter PERICLES, with Attendants.
“Per. Lord governor, for so we hear you are,
Let not our ships and number of our men
Be, like a beacon fired, to amaze your eyes.
We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre,
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 think1
Are, like the Trojan horse, war-stuff’d within,
With bloody views, expecting overthrow,
Are stored with corn, to make your needy bread,
And give them life, who are hunger-starved, half dead.
“All. The gods of Greece protect you!
And we’ll pray for you.
“Per. Rise, I pray you, rise;
We do not look for reverence, but for love,
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,
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 a while,
Until our stars, that frown, lend us a smile. [Exeunt”
SHAKESPEARE.
NOTE 22. Page 277.
“Enter two Sailors.
“1 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 frash-new seafarer,
I would it would be quiet.
“1 Sail. Slack the bolins there; thou wilt not, wilt thou ? Blow and split thyself.
“2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.
“1 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.
“1 Sail. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it still hath been observed; and we are strong in earnest. Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.
“Per. Be it as you think meet.—Most wretched queen!
“Lye. Here she lies, sir.
“Per. A terrible childbed hast thou had, my dear;
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 coflm’d, in the ooze;
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. Lychorida,
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
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. [Exit Lychorida.
“2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulk’d and biturned ready.
“Per. I thank thee.” SHAKESPEARE.
NOTE 23. Page 278.
“Enter two Servants, with a chest.
“Serv. So ; lift there.
“Cer. What is that ?
“Serv. Sir, even now
Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest;
’Tis of some wreck.
“Cer. Set’t down ; let’s look on it.
“2 Gent Tis like a coffin, sir.
“Cer. Whate’er it be,
’Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight:
If the sea’s stomach be o’ercharg’d with gold,
It is a good constraint of fortune, that
It belches upon us.
“2 Gent. Tis so, my lord.
“Cer. How close ‘tis caulk’d and bitumed!—
Did the sea cast it up ?
“Serv. I never saw so huge a billow, sir,
As toss’d it upon shore.
“Cer. Come, wrench it open ;
Soft, soft!—it smells most sweetly in my sense.
“2 Gent. A delicate odour.
“Cer. As ever hit my nostril; so,—up with it.
O you most potent gods ! what’s here ? a corse!
“1 Gent. Most strange !
“Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state; balm’d and entreasured
With bags of spices full!”
SHAKESPEARE.
NOTE 24. Page 278.
“Cer. She is alive; behold,
Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels
Which Pericles hath lost,
Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;
The diamonds of a most praised water
Appear, to make the world twice rich. 0 live,
And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
Rare as you seem to be.” Ibid.
The original Latin text in this part ought to be preserved; and therefore I annex it:—
“Quod cum fecissent, medicus aperuit, vidit puellam regalibus ornamentis decoratam et speeiosam valde. Cujus pulchritudinem omnes videntes de ea multum admirabantur quoniam verus erat pulchritudinis radius in quo natura nihil viciosum constituit, nisi qudd earn immortalem non formaverat. Crines namque ejus erant ni
vei candoris sub quibus residerabat frontis lactess planicies: cujus nulla erat detestabilis rugositas. Oculi enim ejus erant quasi duorum siderum describentes orbis volubilitatem non prodigi. Aspectibus erant modestis frenati, stabilis animi constantiam promittentes. Palpebrarum etiam pili non inhoneste natura in ea collocaverat. Nasus etiam ejus rectitudinis suse lineam plenitudinis etiam decore possidebat in geminas dividens maxillarum partes. Nee vergebat in supremum nimia longitudine nee nimia brevitate correpta, sed decenti honestatis quantitate incedebat. Cujus collum radiis solaribus candidius, spe-ciosis omatum clinodiis, hominum aspectibus mirabilem intulerat animi jocunditatem. Corpus etiam non diminutum vel quantitatis mole superabundans nequaquam quibus in ea censere proposuit. Ex cujus pectore brachia pulchritudinis tanquam ex arboris trunco rami procedebant. Quorum digiti quantitatis debitam sibi assumpserant mensuram unguium fulgore non pretermisso;1 cujus summaria speciositas nihil deformitatis sibi admisceri compatiebatur. In qua potest notari etiam singularis animae suae perfectio per potentiam divinam creando sibi infusse.”—Fol. LXIV. ed. 1508.
The reader, I think, will agree with me, that this is altogether a brilliant description of female beauty ; and, for the most part, as yet unhackneyed.
NOTE 25. Page 284.
“Leon, Come, say your prayers speedily.
“Mar. What mean you ?
“Leon. If you require a little space for prayer,
I grant it: Pray! but be not tedious,
For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
To do my work with haste.
“Mar. Why will you kill me ?
“Leon. To satisfy my lady.
“Mar. Why would she have me kill’d ?
Now, as I can remember, by my troth,
I never did her hurt in all my life;
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn
To any living creature: believe me, la,
I never kill’d a mouse, nor hurt a fly:
I trod upon a worm against my will,
But I wept for it. How have I offended,
Wherein my death might yield her profit, or
My life imply her danger ?
“Leon. My commission
Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.
“Mar. You will not do’t for all the world, I hope.
You are well-favour’d, and your looks foreshow
You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately,
When you caught hurt in parting two that fought:
Good sooth, it show’d well in you; do so now:
Your lady seeks my life: come you between,
And save poor me, the weaker.
“Leon. I am sworn,
And will despatch.
“Enter Pirates, whilst Marina is struggling
“1 Pir. Hold, villain! [Leonine runs away.
“2 Pir. A prize ! a prize !
“3 Pir. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let’s have her aboard suddenly.
[Exeunt Pirates with Marina.”
SHAKESPEARE.
NOTE 26. Page 294.
“Per. Wherefore call’d Marina ?
“Mar. Call’d Marina,
For I was born at sea.
“Per. At sea t thy mother?
“Mar. My mother was the daughter of a king;
Who died the very minute I was born,
As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft
Deliver’d weeping.
“Per. O, stop there a little!
This is the rarest dream that e’er dull sleep
Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be.
My daughter’s buried. (Aside.) Well;—where were you bred ?
I’ll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,
And never interrupt you.
“Mar. You’ll scarce believe me; ‘twere best I did give o’er.
“Per. I will believe you by the syllable
Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave—
How came you in these parts ? where were you bred ?
“Mar. The king, my father, did in Tharsus leave me;
Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,
Did seek to murder me: and having woo’d
A villain to attempt it, who having drawn,
A crew of pirates came and rescued me;
Brought me to Mitylene. But now, good sir,
Whither will you have me ? Why do you weep ? It may be
You think me an impostor; no, good faith;
I am the daughter to king Pericles,
If good king Pericles be.” Ibid.
NOTE 27. Page 297.
“Per. Hail, Dian! To perform thy just command,
I here confess myself the king of Tyre;
Who, frighted from my country, did wed
The fair Thaisa, at Pentapolis.
At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth
A maid-child calPd Marina; who, O goddess,
Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tharsus
Was nurs’d with Cleon; whom at fourteen years
He sought to murder : but her better stars
Brought her to Mitylene; against whose shore
Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us,
Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she
Made known herself my daughter.”
SHAKESPEARE.
George Lillo (the memorable author of George Barnwell) worked up this story into a drama of three acts. Here Philoten, the daughter of Cleon, is QUEEN of Tharsus; and when Pericles arrives, he recounts his history to her in the following lines, which display very considerable poetic ability.
“But to my purpose.
‘Tis more than twice seven years since I beheld thee
With my Marina; both were infants then.
Peace and security smiled on your birth;
Hers was the rudest welcome to this world
That e’er was1 Prince’s child: Born on the sea,
(Hence is she call’d Marina,) in a tempest,
When the high working billows kiss’d the moon,
And the shrill whistle of the boatswain’s pipe
Seem’d as a whisper in the ear of death;—2
Born when her mother died ! That fatal hour
Must still live with me.—0 you gracious gods!
Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
And snatch them straight away ? The waves received
My queen. A sea-mate’s chest coffin’d her corpse;
In which she silent lies ‘midst groves of coral,
Or in a glittering bed of shining shells.3
The air-fed lamps of heaven, the spouting whale,
And dashing waters that roll o’er her head,
Compose a monument to hide her bones,
Spacious as heaven, and lasting as the frame
Of universal nature.”
Marina, Act II. Sc. 1.
When Pericles is informed of the death of his child, the mutability of human affairs rushes upon his mind.
“Once princes sat, like stars, about my throne,
And veil’d their crowns to my supremacy:
Then, like the sun, all paid me reverence
For what I was; and all the grateful loved me
For what I did bestow: now, not a glowworm
But in the cheerless night displays more brightness,
And is of greater use than darken’d Pericles.
Be not highminded, queen ! be not highminded:
TIME is omnipotent—the king of kings:
Their parent, and their grave.” Marina, Act II. Sc. 1.
Lillo had much tragic power, and wrote with a pathos which is irresistible. His versification is uncommonly harmonious. He was, perhaps, the last of the old school of the drama; and there are passages in some of his plays, which would have done no discredit to his most celebrated predecessors.
NOTE 28. Page 297.
“Thai. Voice and favour!—
You are—you are—O royal Pericles! [She
faints.
“Per. What means the woman ? she dies ! help, gentlemen!
“Cer. Noble sir,
If you have told Diana’s altar true,
This is your wife.
“Per. Reverend appearer, no;
I threw her o’erboard with these very arms.
“Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you.
“Per. ’Tis most certain.
“Cer. Look to the lady;—O, she’s but o’erjoy’d.
Early, one blust’ring morn, this lady was
Thrown on this shore. I oped the coffin, and
Found there rich jewels; recover’d her, and placed her
Here in Diana’s temple.
“Per. May we see them ?
“Cer. Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house,
Whither I invite you. Look ! Thaisa is
Recover’d.
“Thai. O, let me look!
If he be none of mine, my sanctity
Will to my sense bend no licentious ear,
But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord,
Are you not Pericles ? Like him you speak,
Like him you are: Did you not name a tempest,
A birth, and death ?
“Per. The voice of dead Thaisa !
“Thai. That Thaisa ami, supposed dead
And drown’d.
“Per. Immortal Dian!
“Thai. Now I know you better.—
When we with tears parted Pentapolis,
The king, my father, gave you such a ring. [Shows a ring.
“Per. This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness
Makes my past miseries sport. You shall do well,
That on the touching of her lips I may
Melt, and no more be seen. O come, be buried
A second time within these arms.
“Mar. My heart
Leaps to be gone into my mother’s bosom. [Kneels to Thaisa.
“Per. Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa;
Thy burden at the sea, and call’d Marina,
For she was yielded there.
“Thai. Bless’d and mine own.”
SHAKESPEARE.
NOTE 29. Page 299.
“This story, the longest in the book before us, and the groundwork of a favourite old romance, is known to have existed before the year 1190.
“In the prologue to the English romance on this subject, called KYNGE APOLYNE OF THTEE, and printed by Wynkyn de Worde, in 1510, we are told: ‘My worshypfull mayster, Wynkyn de Worde, ha-vynge a lytell boke of an auncyent hystory of a kynge sometyme reynyne in the countree of Thyre called Appolyn, concemynge his malfortunes and peryllous adventures right espouventables,1 bryefly compyled, and pyteous for to here; the which boke I, Kobert Cop-lande,2 have me applyed for to translate out of the Frensshe language into our maternal Englysshe tongue, at the exhortacyon of my forsayd mayster, accordynge dyrectly to myn auctor: gladly followynge the trace of my mayster Caxton, begynnynge with small storyes and pamfletes and so to other.’ The English romance, or the French, which is the same thing, exactly corresponds in many passages with the text of the GESTA. I will instance in the following one only, in which the complication of the fable commences. King Appolyn dines in disguise in the hall of king Altistrates. ‘Came in the kynges daughter, accompanyed with many ladyes and damoyselles, whose splendente beaute were too long to endyte, for her rosacyate coloure was medled3 with grete favour. She dranke unto her fader, and to all the lordes, and to all them that had ben at the play of the Shelde.4 And as she behelde here and there, she espyed kynge Appolyn, and then she sayd unto her fader, syr, what is he that sytteth so hye as by you; it semeth by hym that he is angry or sorrowfull ? The kynge sayd, I never sawe so nimble and pleasaunt a player at the shelde, and therefore have I made hym to come and soupe with my knyghtes. And yf ye wyll knowe what he is, demaunde hym; for peradventure he wyll tell you sooner than me. Methynke that he is departed from some good place, and I thinke in my mynde that somethynge is befallen hym for which he is sory. This sayd, the noble damoysell wente unto Appolyn and sayd, Fayre sir, graunt me a boon. And he graunted her with goode herte. And she sayd unto hym, albeyt that your vysage be triste and hevy, your behaviour sheweth noblesse and facundyte, and therefore I pray you to tell me of youre affayre and estate. Appolyn answered, yf ye demaunde of my rychesses, I have lost them in the sea. The damoysell sayd, I pray you that you tell me of your adventures.’1 But in the GESTA, the princess at entering the royal hall, kisses all the knights and lords present, except the stranger. Vossius says, that about the year 1520, one Alamanius Kinucinus, a Florentine, translated into Latin this fabulous history; and that the translation was corrected by Beroaldus. Vossius certainly cannot mean that he translated it from the Greek original.”— WARTON.