I like that well: nay, how absolute she's in 't,
Not minding whether I dislike or no !
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.

Per. All fortune to the good Simonides! Sim. 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.

Per. It is your grace's pleasure to commend, Not my desert.

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. My daughter, sir, thinks very well of you; Ay, so well, sir, 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 honour her.

Sim. Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art A villain.

Never did thought of mine levy offence;
Nor never did my actions yet commence
A deed might gain her love or your displeasure.
Sim. Traitor, thou liest.

Per.

Sim.

Traitor !

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 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.
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 offence 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 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 pleas'd?

Thai.

Yes, if you love me, sir.

Per. Even as my life, or blood that fosters it.

Sim. What are you both agreed?

Thai. Per. Yes, if it please your majesty.

Sim. It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed ; Then with what haste you can get you to bed.

ACT III

Exeunt.

Enter Gower.

Now sleep yslaked 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 couches 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

Then

gives PERICLES a letter: PERICLES shows it to SIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to PERICLES. enter THAISA with child, and LYCHORIDA: SIMONIDES shows his daughter the letter; she rejoices: she and PERICLES take leave of her father, and all depart.

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 tenour 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 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,

On Neptune's billow; half the flood
Hath their keel cut: but fortune's mood
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 sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.

Exit.

SCENE I.

Enter PERICLES, on shipboard.

Per. 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.