Well, I do commend her choice;
And will no longer have it be delay’d.
Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it.
Enter Pericles
Pericles
All fortune to the good Simonides!
Simonides
To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you
For your sweet music this last night: I do
Protest my ears were never better fed
With such delightful pleasing harmony.
Pericles
It is your grace’s pleasure to commend;
Not my desert.
Simonides
Sir, you are music’s master.
Pericles
The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.
Simonides
Let me ask you one thing:
What do you think of my daughter, sir?
Pericles
A most virtuous princess.
Simonides
And she is fair too, is she not?
Pericles
As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair.
Simonides
Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you;
Ay, so well, that you must be her master,
And she will be your scholar: therefore look to it.
Pericles
I am unworthy for her schoolmaster.
Simonides
She thinks not so; peruse this writing else.
Pericles
[Aside] What’s here?
A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre!
’Tis the king’s subtlety to have my life.
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.
Simonides
Thou hast bewitch’d my daughter, and thou art
A villain.
Pericles
By the gods, I have not:
Never did thought of mine levy offence;
Nor never did my actions yet commence
A deed might gain her love or your displeasure.
Simonides
Traitor, thou liest.
Pericles
Traitor!
Simonides
Ay, traitor.
Pericles
Even in his throat — unless it be the king —
That calls me traitor, I return the lie.
Simonides
[Aside] Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage.
Pericles
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;
And he that otherwise accounts of me,
This sword shall prove he’s honour’s enemy.
Simonides
No?
Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.
Enter Thaisa
Pericles
Then, as you are as virtuous as fair,
Resolve your angry father, if my tongue
Did ere solicit, or my hand subscribe
To any syllable that made love to you.
Thaisa
Why, sir, say if you had,
Who takes offence at that would make me glad?
Simonides
Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?
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
Upon a stranger?
Aside
who, for aught I know,
May be, nor can I think the contrary,
As great in blood as I myself.—
Therefore hear you, mistress; either frame
Your will to mine,— and you, sir, hear you,
Either be ruled by me, or I will make you —
Man and wife:
Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too:
And being join’d, I’ll thus your hopes destroy;
And for a further grief,— God give you joy!—
What, are you both pleased?
Thaisa
Yes, if you love me, sir.
Pericles
Even as my life, or blood that fosters it.
Simonides
What, are you both agreed?
Both
Yes, if it please your majesty.
Simonides
It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed;
And then with what haste you can get you to bed.
Exeunt
ACT III
PROLOGUE
Enter Gower
Gower
Now sleep y-slaked hath the rout;
No din but snores the house about,
Made louder by the o’er-fed breast
Of this most pompous marriage-feast.
The cat, with eyne of burning coal,
Now crouches fore the mouse’s hole;
And crickets sing at the oven’s mouth,
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,
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.
Enter, Pericles and Simonides at one door, with Attendants; a Messenger meets them, kneels, and gives Pericles a letter: Pericles shows it Simonides; the Lords kneel to him. Then enter Thaisa with child, with Lychorida a nurse. The King shows her the letter; she rejoices: she and Pericles takes leave of her father, and depart with Lychorida and their Attendants. Then exeunt Simonides and the rest
By many a dern and painful perch
Of Pericles the careful search,
By the four opposing coigns
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,
Fame answering the most strange inquire,
To the court of King Simonides
Are letters brought, the tenor these:
Antiochus and his daughter dead;
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;
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,
Brought hither to Pentapolis,
Y-ravished the regions round,
And every one with claps can sound,
‘Our heir-apparent is a king!
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:
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
Hath their keel cut: but fortune’s mood
Varies again; the grisly north
Disgorges such a tempest forth,
That, as a duck for life that dives,
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
Shall for itself itself perform.
I nill relate, action may
Conveniently the rest convey;
Which might not what by me is told.
In your imagination hold
This stage the ship, upon whose deck
The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.
Exit
Scene I:
Enter Pericles, on shipboard
Pericles
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,
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;
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
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
Now, Lychorida!
Lychorida
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
Of your dead queen.
Pericles
How, how, Lychorida!
Lychorida
Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.
Here’s all that is left living of your queen,
A little daughter: for the sake of it,
Be manly, and take comfort.
Pericles
O you gods!
Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
And snatch them straight away? We here below
Recall not what we give, and therein may
Use honour with you.
Lychorida
Patience, good sir,
Even for this charge.
Pericles
Now, mild may be thy life!
For a more blustrous birth had never babe:
Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for
Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world
That ever was prince’s child. Happy what follows!
Thou hast as chiding a nativity
As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
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!
Enter two Sailors
First Sailor
What courage, sir? God save you!
Pericles
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.
First Sailor
Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou?
Blow, and split thyself.
Second Sailor
But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.
First Sailor
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.
Pericles
That’s your superstition.
First Sailor
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.
Pericles
As you think meet. Most wretched queen!
Lychorida
Here she lies, sir.
Pericles
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 coffin’d, in the ooze;
Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
And e’er-remaining lamps, the belching whale
And humming water must o’erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells. O 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
Second Sailor
Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready.
Pericles
I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?
Second Sailor
We are near Tarsus.
Pericles
Thither, gentle mariner.
Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?
Second Sailor
By break of day, if the wind cease.
Pericles
O, make for Tarsus!
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
SCENE II. EPHESUS. A ROOM IN CERIMON’S HOUSE.
Enter Cerimon, with a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked
Cerimon
Philemon, ho!
Enter Philemon
Philemon
Doth my lord call?
Cerimon
Get fire and meat for these poor men:
’T has been a turbulent and stormy night.
Servant
I have been in many; but such a night as this,
Till now, I ne’er endured.
Cerimon
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,
And tell me how it works.
Exeunt all but Cerimon
Enter two Gentlemen
First Gentleman
Good morrow.
Second Gentleman
Good morrow to your lordship.
Cerimon
Gentlemen,
Why do you stir so early?
First Gentleman
Sir,
Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,
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.
Second Gentleman
That is the cause we trouble you so early;
’Tis not our husbandry.
Cerimon
O, you say well.
First Gentleman
But I much marvel that your lordship, having
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,
Being thereto not compell’d.
Cerimon
I hold it ever,
Virtue and cunning were endowments greater
Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs
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,
By turning o’er authorities, I have,
Together with my practise, made familiar
To me and to my aid the blest infusions
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
And I can speak of the disturbances
That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me
A more content in course of tr
ue delight
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,
To please the fool and death.
Second Gentleman
Your honour has through Ephesus pour’d forth
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restored:
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.
Enter two or three Servants with a chest
First Servant
So; lift there.
Cerimon
What is that?
First Servant
Sir, even now
Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest:
’Tis of some wreck.
Cerimon
Set ’t down, let’s look upon’t.
Second Gentleman
’Tis like a coffin, sir.
Cerimon
Whate’er it be,
’Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight:
If the sea’s stomach be o’ercharged with gold,
’Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.
Second Gentleman
’Tis so, my lord.
Cerimon
How close ’tis caulk’d and bitumed!
Did the sea cast it up?
First Servant
I never saw so huge a billow, sir,
As toss’d it upon shore.
Cerimon
Wrench it open;
Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.
Second Gentleman
A delicate odour.
Cerimon
As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.
O you most potent gods! what’s here? a corse!
First Gentleman
Most strange!
Cerimon
Shrouded in cloth of state; balm’d and entreasured
With full bags of spices! A passport too!
Apollo, perfect me in the characters!
Reads from a scroll
‘Here I give to understand,
If e’er this coffin drive a-land,
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:
Besides this treasure for a fee,
The gods requite his charity!’
If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart
That even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight.
Second Gentleman
Most likely, sir.
Cerimon
Nay, certainly to-night;
For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough
That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within:
Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.
Exit a Servant
Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The o’erpress’d spirits. I heard of an Egyptian
That had nine hours lien dead,
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