| [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] |
| [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] |
| [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 true 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, Who was by good appliance recovered. | |
| [Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire] | |
| Well said, well said; the fire and cloths.
The rough and woeful music that we have, Cause it to sound, beseech you. The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block! The music there!--I pray you, give her air. Gentlemen. This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced Above five hours: see how she gins to blow Into life's flower again! | |
| First Gentleman | The heavens,
Through you, increase our wonder and set up Your fame forever. |
| CERIMON | She is alive; behold,
Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels Which Pericles hath lost, Begin to part their fringes of bright gold; The diamonds of a most praised water Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live, And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, Rare as you seem to be. |
| [She moves] | |
| THAISA | O dear Diana,
Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this? |
| Second Gentleman | Is not this strange? |
| First Gentleman | Most rare. |
| CERIMON | Hush, my gentle neighbours!
Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her. Get linen: now this matter must be look'd to, For her relapse is mortal. Come, come; And AEsculapius guide us! |
| [Exeunt, carrying her away] |
| [Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA with
MARINA in her arms] | |
| PERICLES | Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone;
My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus stands In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods Make up the rest upon you! |
| CLEON | Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,
Yet glance full wanderingly on us. |
| DIONYZA | O your sweet queen!
That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither, To have bless'd mine eyes with her! |
| PERICLES | We cannot but obey
The powers above us. Could I rage and roar As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end Must be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom, For she was born at sea, I have named so, here I charge your charity withal, leaving her The infant of your care; beseeching you To give her princely training, that she may be Manner'd as she is born. |
| CLEON | Fear not, my lord, but think
Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, For which the people's prayers still fall upon you, Must in your child be thought on. If neglection Should therein make me vile, the common body, By you relieved, would force me to my duty: But if to that my nature need a spur, The gods revenge it upon me and mine, To the end of generation! |
| PERICLES | I believe you;
Your honour and your goodness teach me to't, Without your vows. Till she be married, madam, By bright Diana, whom we honour, all Unscissor'd shall this hair of mine remain, Though I show ill in't. So I take my leave. Good madam, make me blessed in your care In bringing up my child. |
| DIONYZA | I have one myself,
Who shall not be more dear to my respect Than yours, my lord. |
| PERICLES | Madam, my thanks and prayers. |
| CLEON | We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore,
Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and The gentlest winds of heaven. |
| PERICLES | I will embrace
Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears, Lychorida, no tears: Look to your little mistress, on whose grace You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter CERIMON and THAISA] | |
| CERIMON | Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,
Lay with you in your coffer: which are now At your command. Know you the character? |
| THAISA | It is my lord's.
That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, Even on my eaning time; but whether there Deliver'd, by the holy gods, I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles, My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again, A vestal livery will I take me to, And never more have joy. |
| CERIMON | Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak,
Diana's temple is not distant far, Where you may abide till your date expire. Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine Shall there attend you. |
| THAISA | My recompense is thanks, that's all;
Yet my good will is great, though the gift small. |
| [Exeunt] |