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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)

Page 345

by William Shakespeare


  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.

 

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