Act I, Scene i
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received | |
| | The danger of the task you undertake. | |
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul | |
| | Embolden'd with the glory of her praise, | |
| | Think death no hazard in this enterprise. | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride, | |
| | For the embracements even of Jove himself; | |
| | At whose conception, till Lucina reign'd, | |
| | Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence, | |
| | The senate-house of planets all did sit, | |
| | To knit in her their best perfections. | |
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[Music. Enter the Daughter of Antiochus.]
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| | PERICLES | |
| | See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring, | |
| | Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king | |
| | Of every virtue gives renown to men! | |
| | Her face the book of praises, where is read | |
| | Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence | |
| | Sorrow were ever razed, and testy wrath | |
| | Could never be her mild companion. | |
| | You gods that made me man, and sway in love, | |
| | That have inflamed desire in my breast | |
| | To taste the fruit of yon celestal tree, | |
| | Or die in the adventure, be my helps, | |
| | As I am son and servant to your will, | |
| | To compass such a boundless happiness! | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | Prince Pericles,— | |
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | That would be son to great Antiochus. | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, | |
| | With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd; | |
| | For death-like dragons here affright thee hard: | |
| | Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view | |
| | Her countless glory, which desert must gain; | |
| | And which, without desert, because thine eye | |
| | Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die. | |
| | Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself, | |
| | Drawn by report, adventurous by desire, | |
| | Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale, | |
| | That without covering, save yon field of stars, | |
| | Here they stand Martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars; | |
| | And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist | |
| | For going on death's net, whom none resist. | |
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught | |
| | My frail mortality to know itself, | |
| | And by those fearful objects to prepare | |
| | This body, like to them, to what I must; | |
| | For death remember'd should be like a mirror, | |
| | Who tells us life 's but breath, to trust it error. | |
| | I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do | |
| | Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe, | |
| | Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did; | |
| | So I bequeath a happy peace to you | |
| | And all good men, as every prince should do; | |
| | My riches to the earth from whence they came; | |
| | But my unspotted fire of love to you. | |
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[To the daughter of Antiochus.]
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| | Thus ready for the way of life or death, | |
| | I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus. | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | Scorning advice, read the conclusion, then: | |
| | Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, | |
| | As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed. | |
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| | DAUGHTER.: | |
| | Of all say'd yet, mayst thou prove prosperous! | |
| | Of all say'd yet, I wish thee happiness! | |
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| | PERICLES | |
| | Like a bold champion, I assume THe lists, | |
| | Nor ask advice of any other thought | |
| | But faithfulness and courage. | |
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| | I am no viper, yet I feed | |
| | On mother's flesh which did me breed. | |
| | I sought a husband, in which labour | |
| | I found that kindness in a father: | |
| | He's father, son, and husband mild; | |
| | I mother, wife, and yet his child. | |
| | How they may be, and yet in two, | |
| | As you will live, resolve it you. | |
| | Sharp physic is the last: but, O you powers | |
| | That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts, | |
| | Why cloud they not their sights perpetually, | |
| | If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? | |
| | Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still, | |
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[Takes hold of the hand of the Princess.]
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| | Were not this glorious casket stored with ill: | |
| | But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt; | |
| | For he's no man on whom perfections wait | |
| | That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate, | |
| | You are a fair viol, and your sense the strings; | |
| | Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, | |
| | Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to hearken; | |
| | But being play'd upon before your time, | |
| | Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime. | |
| | Good sooth, I care not for you. | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life, | |
| | For that's an article within our law, | |
| | As dangerous as the rest. Tour time's expired: | |
| | Either expound now, or receive your sentence. | |
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | Great king, | |
| | Few love to hear the sins they love to act; | |
| | 'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it. | |
| | Who has a book of all that monarchs do, | |
| | He's more secure to keep it shut than shown: | |
| | For vice repeated is like the wandering wind, | |
| | Blows dust in others' eyes, to spread itself; | |
| | And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, | |
| | The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear | |
| | To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts | |
| | Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd | |
| | By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't. | |
| | Kind are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will; | |
| | And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill? | |
| | It is enough you know; and it is fit, | |
| | What being more known grows worse, to smother it. | |
| | All love the womb that their first bred, | |
| | Then give my tongue like leave to love my head. | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.[Aside] | |
| | Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found the meaning: | |
| | But I will gloze with him.—Young prince of Tyre. | |
| | Though by the tenour of our strict edict, | |
| | Your exposition misinterpreting, | |
| | We might proceed to cancel of your days; | |
| | Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree | |
| | As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise: | |
| | Forty days longer we do respite you; | |
| | If by which time our secret be undone, | |
| | This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son: | |
| | And until then your entertain shall be | |
| | As doth befit our honour and your worth. | |
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[Exeunt all but Pericles.]
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| | PERACLES.: | |
| | How courtesy would seem to cover sin, | |
| | When what is done is like an hypocrite, | |
| | The which is good in nothing but in sight! | |
| | If it be true that I interpret false, | |
| | Then were it certain you were not so bad | |
| | As with foul incest to abuse your soul; | |
| | Where now you're both a father and a son, | |
| | By your untimely claspings with your child, | |
| | Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father; | |
| | And she an eater of her mother's flesh, | |
| | By the defiling of her parent's bed; | |
| | And both like serpents are, who though they feed | |
| | On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed. | |
| | Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men | |
| | Blush not in actions blacker than the night, | |
| | Will shun no course to keep them from the light. | |
| | One sin, I know, another doth provoke; | |
| | Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke: | |
| | Poison and treason are the hands of sin, | |
| | Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame: | |
| | Then, lest my life be cropp'd to keep you clear, | |
| | By flight I 'II shun the danger which I fear. | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | He gath found the meaning, for which we mean | |
| | To have his head. | |
| | He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, | |
| | Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin | |
| | In such a loathed manner; | |
| | And therefore instantly this prince must die; | |
| | For by his fall my honour must keep high. | |
| | Who attends us there? | |
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| | THALIARD.: | |
| | Doth your highness call? | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | Thaliard, | |
| | You are of our chamber, and our mind partakes | |
| | Her private actions to your secrecy; | |
| | And for your faithfulness we will advance you. | |
| | Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold; | |
| | We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him: | |
| | It fits thee not to ask the reason why, | |
| | Because we Bid it. Say, is it done? | |
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| | THALIARD.: | |
| | My lord, | |
| | Tis done. | |
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| | Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste. | |
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| | MESSENGER.: | |
| | My lord, prlnce Pericles is fled. | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | As thou | |
| | Wilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot | |
| | From a well-experienced archer hits the mark | |
| | His eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return | |
| | Unless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead.' | |
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| | THALIARD.: | |
| | My lord, | |
| | If I can get him within my pistol's length, | |
| | I'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness. | |
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| | ANTIOCHUS.: | |
| | Thaliard! adieu! | |
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| | Till | |
| | Pericles be dead, | |
| | My heart can lend no succour to my head. | |
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