Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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,