SIM.

Sir, you are music's master.

PER.

The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.

SIM.

Let me ask you one thing:

What do you think of my daughter, sir?

PER.

A most virtuous princess.

SIM.

And she is fair too, is she not?

PER.

As a fair day in summer; wondrous fair.

SIM.

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.

PER.

I am unworthy for her schoolmaster.

SIM.

She thinks not so; peruse this writing else.

PER [Aside.]

What's here?

A letter that she loves the knight of Tyre!

'Tis the King's subtilty 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 honor her.

SIM.

Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art

A villain.

PER.

By the gods, I have not.

Never did thought of mine levy offense;

Nor never did my actions yet commence

A deed might gain her love or your displeasure.

SIM.

Traitor, thou liest.

PER.

Traitor?

SIM.

Ay, traitor.

PER.

Even in his throat – unless it be the King –

That calls me traitor, I return the lie.

SIM [Aside.]

Now by the gods, I do applaud his courage.

PER.

My actions are as noble as my thoughts,

That never relish'd of a base descent.

I came unto your court for honor's cause,

And not to be a rebel to her state;

And he that otherwise accounts of me,

This sword shall prove he's honor's enemy.

SIM.

No?

Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.

 

Enter Thaisa.

PER.

Then as you are as virtuous as fair,

Resolve your angry father if my tongue

Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe

To any syllable that made love to you.

THAI.

Why, sir, say if you had, who takes offense

At that would make me glad?

SIM.

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 rul'd by me, or I'll 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 further grief – God give you joy!

What, are you both pleased?

THAI.

Yes, if you love me, sir.

PER.

Even as my life my blood that fosters it.

SIM.

What, are you both agreed?

AMBO.

Yes, if't please your Majesty.

SIM.

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]

Enter Gower.

 

[GOW.]

Now sleep yslacked hath the rout,

No din but snores [the house about],

Made louder by the o'erfed breast

Of this most pompous marriage-feast.

The cat, with eyne of burning coal,

Now couches from the mouse's hole;

And [crickets] sing at the oven's mouth,

Are 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 take 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 th' 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,

Yravished the regions round,

And every one with claps can sound,

»Our heir-apparent is a king!

Who dreamt? 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, mov'd,

Varies again; the grisled 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 seas-toss'd Pericles appears to speak.

 

[Exit.]

 

 

[Scene I]

Enter Pericles a-shipboard.

 

PER.

The 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 deaf'ning, dreadful thunders, gently quench

Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! – O, how, Lychorida!

How does my queen? – [Thou] storm, venomously

Wilt thou spet 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! – Now, Lychorida!

 

Enter Lychorida [with an infant].

 

LYC.

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.

PER.

How? How, Lychorida?

LYC.

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.

PER.

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 honor with you.

LYC.

Patience, good sir,

Even for this charge.

PER.

Now, mild may be thy life!

For a more blusterous 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.

 

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 fresh new sea-farer,

I would it would be quiet.

1. SAIL.