Ant.
Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received
The danger of the task you undertake.

Per.
I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul
Embolden'd with the glory of her praise,
Think death no hazard in this enterprise. ^note

Ant.
Bring in ^note our daughter, clothed like a bride,
For the ^note embracements even of Jove himself;
At whose ^note conception ^note, till Lucina reign'd ^note,
Nature this dowry gave ^note, to glad her presence,
The senate- ^notehouse of planets all did sit ^note,
To knit in her their ^note best perfections. ^note Music. Enter ^note Antiochus' Daughter.

Per.
See where she comes, apparell'd ^note like the spring,
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts ^note the king ^{note note}
Of every virtue gives ^note renown to men!

Her face the book of praises ^note, ^note where is read
Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence
Sorrow were ever razed ^note, and testy wrath
Could never be her mild ^note companion.
You gods that made me man and sway in love,
That have inflamed desire in ^note my breast
To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree
Or die in the adventure, be my helps,
As I am son and servant to your will,
To compass such a boundless ^note happiness!

Ant.
Prince Pericles,— ^note

Per.
That would be son to great Antiochus.

Ant.
Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,
With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd;
For death-like ^note dragons here affright ^note thee hard: ^note
Her ^note face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view
Her countless ^note glory, which desert must gain;
And which, without desert, because thine eye
Presumes to reach, all thy ^note whole heap ^note must die.
Yon ^note sometimes ^note 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 ^note thee ^note to desist
For ^note going on ^note death's ^note net, whom none resist.

Per.
Antiochus ^note, I thank thee ^note, who hath ^note 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 ^note should be like a mirror,
Who tells us life's but breath, to trust it ^note error.
I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do,
Who know the world, see ^note heaven, but feeling ^note 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. [To the Princess. ^note
Thus ready for the way of life or death,
I wait the sharpest blow.

Ant.
Scorning advice: read the conclusion then:
Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, ^note
As these before thee thou ^note thyself shalt bleed.

Daugh.
Of all 'say'd yet, mayst ^note thou prove prosperous! ^note
Of all 'say'd ^note yet, ^note I wish thee happiness!

Per.
Like a bold champion I assume the lists,
Nor ask advice of any other thought
But faithfulness and courage. He reads ^note the riddle.

‘I am no viper, yet I feed
On mother's flesh which ^note did me breed.

I sought a husband, in which labour ^note
I found that kindness in ^{note note} a father:
He's father, son, and husband mild;
I mother, wife, and yet his child.
How they ^note may be, and yet in two,
As you will live, resolve it you.’ [Aside ^note]
Sharp physic is the last: ^note but, O you powers
That give ^note heaven countless eyes to view men's acts,
Why cloud ^note they not their sights perpetually,
If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? ^{note note}
Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still,
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 ^note 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.

Ant.
Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life,
For that's an article within our law,
As dangerous as the rest. Your time's ^note expired:
Either expound now or receive your sentence.

Per.
Great king,
Few love to hear the sins they love to act;
'Twould braid ^note yourself too near for me to tell it.
Who has ^note 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 ^note blind mole casts ^note
Copp'd ^note hills towards ^note heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd ^note
By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't.
Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will;
And if Jove stray, who dares ^note say Jove doth ill?
It is enough you know ^note; and it is ^note fit ^note,
What being more known grows worse, to ^note smother it.
All love the womb that their ^note first ^note being bred,
Then give my tongue like leave to love my head.

Ant. [Aside ^note]
Heaven, that I had thy head! ^note He has found the meaning:
But I will gloze with him.—Young prince of Tyre,
Though by the tenour of our ^note strict edict,
Your exposition misinterpreting,
We might proceed to cancel of ^note 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 ^note. [Exeunt all but Pericles. ^note

Per.
How courtesy would seem to cover sin,
When what is done is like an ^note 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 ^note both a father and a son,
By your untimely ^note claspings with your child,
Which pleasure fits ^note a husband ^note, not a father;
And she an eater of her mother's flesh,
By the defiling of her parent's ^note 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 ^note 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 ^note,
Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame:
Then, lest my life be cropp'd to keep you clear,
By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear. [Exit.

Re-enter ^note Antiochus.

Ant.
He hath found the meaning, for the which ^note we mean
To have his head. ^note
He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy,
Nor tell the world Antiochus ^note doth sin
In such a loathed manner;
And therefore instantly this prince must die;
For by his fall my honour must keep high ^note.
Who attends us ^note there ^note? Enter Thaliard.

Thal.
Doth your highness call?

Ant.
Thaliard,
You are ^note of our chamber, ^note and our mind partakes ^note
Her private actions to your secrecy:
And for your faithfulness we will advance you.
Thaliard, ^note behold, here's poison, and here's gold; ^note
We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him:
It fits thee not to ask the reason why,
Because we bid it. ^note Say, is it done?

Thal.
My lord,
'Tis done. ^note

Ant.
Enough.

Enter a Messenger. ^note
Let ^note your breath cool yourself ^note, telling your haste. ^note

Mess.
My lord, prince Pericles is fled. [Exit. ^note

Ant.
As thou
Wilt live, fly after: and like ^note an arrow shot
From a well ^note experienced ^note archer hits the mark
His eye doth level at ^note, so thou ne'er ^note return
Unless thou say ‘Prince Pericles is dead. ^note’

Thal.
My lord,
If I can get him within my pistol's length,
I'll make him sure enough: ^note so, farewell to your highness. ^note

Ant. ^note
Thaliard, adieu! [Exit Thal. ^note] Till Pericles be dead,
My heart can lend no succour to my head. [Exit. ^{note note}

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