Before the Monument of MARINA at Tarsus. |
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Enter GOWER. |
Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short; |
Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for 't; |
Making—to take your imagination— |
From bourn to bourn, region to region. |
By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime |
To use one language in each several clime |
Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you |
To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you, |
The stages of our story. Pericles |
Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, |
Attended on by many a lord and knight, |
To see his daughter, all his life's delight. |
Old Helicanus goes along. Behind |
Is left to govern it, you bear in mind, |
Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late |
Advanc'd in time to great and high estate. |
Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought |
This king to Tarsus, think his pilot thought, |
So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on, |
To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. |
Like motes and shadows see them move awhile; |
Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. |
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DUMB SHOW. |
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Enter at one door PERICLES, with his Train; CLEON and DIONYZA at the other. CLEON shows PERICLES the tomb of MARINA; whereat PERICLES makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Exeunt CLEON and DIONYZA. |
See how belief may suffer by foul show! |
This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe; |
And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd, |
With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'er-shower'd, |
Leaveo Tarsus and again embarks. He swears |
Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs; |
He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears |
A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears, |
And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit |
The epitaph is for Marina writ |
By wicked Dionyza. [Reads inscription on MARINA'S monument. |
THE FAIREST, SWEET'ST, AND BEST LIES HERE, |
WHO WITHER'D IN HER SPRING OF YEAR: |
SHE WAS OF TYRUS THE KING'S DAUGHTER, |
ON WHOM FOUL DEATH HATH MADE THIS SLAUGHTER. |
MARINA WAS SHE CALL'D; AND AT HER BIRTH, |
THETIS, BEING PROUD, SWALLOW'D SOME PART O' THE EARTH: |
THEREFORE THE EARTH, FEARING TO BE O'ERFLOW'D, |
HATH THETIS' BIRTH-CHILD ON THE HEAVENS BESTOW'D: |
WHEREFORE SHE DOES, AND SWEARS SHE'LL NEVER STINT, |
MAKE RAGING BATTERY UPON SHORES OF FLINT. |
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No visor does become black villany |
So well as soft and tender flattery. |
Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead, |
And bear his courses to be ordered |
By Lady Fortune; while our scene must play |
His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day |
In her unholy service. Patience then, |
And think you now are all in Mitylen. [Exit. |
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