he quickly averts any rebellion
by saying to them that if King Pericles
is not home within a year
he will accede to their wishes
and take the crown. This information,
brought to Pentapolis,
astonished the whole country
and everyone began to applaud and say,
“Our heir apparent is a king!
Whoever dreamed such a thing possible?"
To sum up, he must leave for Tyre.
His pregnant queen requests–
and who can deny her?–to accompany him.
We shall omit all their grief and sorrow at leaving.
Lychordia, her nurse, goes with them,
and they set out on the sea. Their ship is shaken
upon the waves; they have crossed
half the sea; but then the mood of fate
changes again; the stormy North
unleashes such a tempest
that the ship tosses up and down
like a duck diving for its life.
The lady shrieks and, alas,
the fear starts her labour;
what follows in this dreadful storm
shall be shown to you now.
I won't say more, the action will
be better to show you the rest;
I have just covered what it might have missed.
In your imagination think that
this stage is the ship, on the deck of which
the storm-tossed Pericles appears to speak.
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!
O God of this great ocean, calm these waves,
which wash over both heaven and hell; and as
you command all winds, lock them up again,
having summoned them from the deep! Oh stop
your deafening dreadful thunder; extinguish
the flashes of lightning! O Lychordia,
how is my queen? The storm is fierce;
will you tear yourself to pieces? The sailor's whistle
is like a whisper in the ears of the dead,
it goes unheard. Lychordia! Lucina, you
heavenly patroness, and gentle midwife
to those who cry in the night, bring your godliness
onto our tossing boat; ease the pains
of my queen's labour! Now, Lychordia!
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.
Here is a thing too young for such a place,
if it had understanding it would die, as I
am likely to do: take in your arms this remnant
of your dead queen.
PERICLES
How, how, Lychorida!
What, what, Lychordia!
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.
Be calm, good sir; do not add to the storm.
Here is all that is still alive of your queen,
a little daughter: for its sake,
be a man, and take this consolation.
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.
Oh you gods!
Why do you make us love your wonderful gifts,
and then snatch them straight away? We here below
do not take back what we give, and then
use it against you.
LYCHORIDA
Patience, good sir,
Even for this charge.
Be calm, good sir,
if only for the sake of the baby.
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
Now, may your life be quiet!
No baby ever had a more stormy birth:
may your life be calm and gentle! For
you had the roughest welcome into the world
a prince's child ever had. May what follows be happy!
You have had as noisy a birth
as fire, air, water, earth and heaven could make,
to announce you from the womb: right from the start
you have suffered a loss which nothing you find
on earth will make up for. Now, may the good gods
do their best for you!
First Sailor
What courage, sir? God save you!
What hope is there, sir? May 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.
There is hope enough: I do not fear the gales;
they have done the worst to me they can. But, out of love
for this poor child, this brand-new sailor,
I wish it would be calm.
First Sailor
Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou?
Blow, and split thyself.
Slacken the bow lines there! Oh so you won't?
Then blow yourself out.
Second Sailor
But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss
the moon, I care not.
As long as we have the open sea the waves and spray can kiss
the moon, I don't care.
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.
Sir, your queen must go overboard: the sea's running high,
the wind is fierce, and it will not calm until the ship is
emptied of the dead.
PERICLES
That's your superstition.
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.
Excuse us, sir; with those of us who sail it is still
believed, and we follow our traditions. Therefore
>
you must give her up at once; she must go straight overboard.
PERICLES
As you think meet. Most wretched queen!
Whatever you think best. Most wretched queen!
LYCHORIDA
Here she lies, sir.
She's lying here, 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
A terrible maternity bed you had, my dear;
no light, no fire: the harsh elements
completely forgot about you: and I don't have the time
to hold a proper funeral, but must throw you
straight over the side, without a proper coffin, into the sea;
the marker over your grave will have to be
the eternal stars, the belching whale,
and the turbulent water must cover your corpse,
lying with simple shells. Oh Lychordia,
Tell Nestor to bring the spices, ink and paper,
my valuables box and my jewels; tell Nicander
to bring the satin chest; put the baby
on the pillow; do that, while I say
the burial service over her: quickly, woman.
Second Sailor
Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked
and bitumed ready.
Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, all
ready and waterproofed.
PERICLES
I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?
Thank you. Sailor, tell me what coast this is.
Second Sailor
We are near Tarsus.
We are near Tarsus.
PERICLES
Thither, gentle mariner,
Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?
Change your course from Tyre, good sailor,
and head for there. When can you reach it?
Second Sailor
By break of day, if the wind cease.
By morning, if the wind drops.
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
Oh, head for Tarsus!
I will visit Cleon there, because the baby
will not survive until Tyre: I'll leave it there,
well looked after. Go about your business, good sailor:
I'll bring the body along shortly.
Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked
CERIMON
Philemon, ho!
Enter PHILEMON
Philemon, come here!
PHILEMON
Doth my lord call?
Did my Lord call?
CERIMON
Get fire and meat for these poor men:
'T has been a turbulent and stormy night.
Get a fire and meat for these poor men:
it has been a windy and stormy night.
Servant
I have been in many; but such a night as this,
Till now, I ne'er endured.
I have been in many; but until now I never saw
a night such as this.
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
Your master will be dead before you return;
there's nothing that can be given to him
which can save him.
Give this to the chemist,
and tell me how it goes.
First Gentleman
Good morrow.
Good day.
Second Gentleman
Good morrow to your lordship.
Good day to your lordship.
CERIMON
Gentlemen,
Why do you stir so early?
Gentlemen,
why are you up 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.
Sir,
our lodgings, standing right next to the sea,
shook as the earth shook;
the very foundations seemed to break,
and be about to fall: sheer surprise and fear
made me leave the house.
Second Gentleman
That is the cause we trouble you so early;
'Tis not our husbandry.
This is why we are here so early;
it's not an eagerness to work.
CERIMON
O, you say well.
Oh, you speak 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.
But I'm astonished that your lordship, with
such strong buildings around you, should so early
Shake off the golden peace of sleep.
It's very strange,
that you should want to suffer this discomfort,
when you are not forced to.
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 true delight
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,
To please the fool and death.
I have always said
that virtue and cunning are better things to have
than nobility and wealth: careless heirs
can stain and spend the latter;
the former lasts forever,
making man a God. You know I have always
studied medicine, and through that secret art,
by reading the works of masters, I have,
combined with my experiments, made myself
and my assistant familiar with the substances
which dwell in plants, in metals and stones;
I can describe the disturbanc
es that
nature causes, and how to cure them; this gives me
more genuine happiness
than to always be chasing worthless honours,
or storing up my treasure in silk 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
Your honour has spread your charity throughout
Ephesus, and hundreds who have been saved by you
call themselves your servants:
and your knowledge, your great efforts, and also
your generosity with money, have given the Lord Cerimon
such great fame that he will never be forgotten.
First Servant
So; lift there.
That's it, lift your end.
CERIMON
What is that?
What's that?
First Servant
Sir, even now
Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest:
'Tis of some wreck.
Sir, just now
the sea washed this chest up on our shore:
it's from some wreck.
CERIMON
Set 't down, let's look upon't.
Put it down, let's have a look at it.
Second Gentleman
'Tis like a coffin, sir.
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) Page 345