If this be true, which makes me pale to read it?
Fair glass of light, I lov'd you, and could still,
Were not this glorious casket stor'd 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're 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 expir'd:
Either expound now, or receive your sentence.

Per.
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.
Kings 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 beings bred,
Then, give my tongue like leave to love my head.

Ant. [Aside.]
Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found the meaning;
But I will gloze with him. [To him.] Young prince of Tyre,
Though by the tenour of our strict edict^{6 note},
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. [Exeunt Antiochus, his Daughter, and Attendants.

Per.
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 a 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^{7 note} 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'll shun the danger which I fear. [Exit. Re-enter Antiochus.

Ant.
He hath found the meaning, for the 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? Enter Thaliard.

Thal.
Doth your highness call?

Ant.
Thaliard,
You're of our chamber^{8 note}
, 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?

Thal.
My lord,
'Tis done. Enter a Messenger.

Ant.
Enough.—
Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste.

Mess.
My lord, prince Pericles is fled. [Exit Messenger.

Ant.
As thou
Wilt live, fly after: and, as an arrow^{9 note}, shot
From a well-experienc'd archer, hits the mark
His eye doth level at, so ne'er return,
Unless thou say Prince Pericles is dead.

Thal.
My lord, if I
Can get him once within my pistol's length,
I'll make him sure: so, farewell to your highness. [Exit

Ant.
Thaliard, adieu.—Till Pericles be dead,
My heart can lend no succour to my head. [Exit. SCENE II. Tyre. A Room in the Palace. Enter Pericles, Helicanus, and other Lords.

Per.
Let none disturb us: why should this change of thoughts^{10 note}?
The sad companion, dull-ey'd melancholy,
By me so us'd a guest is, not an hour,
In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,
The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet.
Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them,

And danger, which I feared, is at Antioch,
Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here;
Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits,
Nor yet the other's distance comfort me.
Then, it is thus: that passions of the mind,
That have their first conception by mis-dread,
Have after-nourishment and life by care;
And what was first but fear what might be done,
Grows elder now, and cares it be not done:
And so with me:—the great Antiochus
('Gainst whom I am too little to contend,
Since he's so great, can make his will his act)
Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence;
Nor boots it me to say, I honour,
If he suspect I may dishonour him:
And what may make him blush in being known,
He'll stop the course by which it might be known.
With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land,
And with the ostent of war^{1 note} will look so huge,
Amazement shall drive courage from the state;
Our men be vanquish'd ere they do resist,
And subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence:
Which care of them, not pity of myself,
(Who am no more^{2 note} but as the tops of trees,
Which fence the roots they grow by, and defend them)
Makes both my body pine, and soul to languish,
And punish that before, that he would punish.

1 Lord.
Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast.

2 Lord.
And keep your mind, till you return to us,
Peaceful and comfortable.

Hel.
Peace, peace! and give experience tongue.
They do abuse the king, that flatter him:

For flattery is the bellows blows up sin;
The thing the which is flatter'd, but a spark,
To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing^{3 note};
Whereas reproof, obedient and in order,
Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err:
When signior Sooth, here, does proclaim a peace,
He flatters you, makes war upon your life.
Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please;
I cannot be much lower than my knees.

Per.
All leave us else; but let your cares o'er-look
What shipping, and what lading's in our haven,
And then return to us. [Exeunt Lords.] Helicanus, thou
Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks?

Hel.
An angry brow, dread lord.

Per.
If there be such a dart in prince's frowns,
How durst thy tongue move anger to our face?

Hel.
How dare the plants look up to heaven^{4 note}, from whence
They have their nourishment?

Per.
Thou know'st I have power
To take thy life from thee.

Hel.
I have ground the axe myself;
Do you but strike the blow.

Per.
Rise, pr'ythee rise;
Sit down; thou art no flatterer:
I thank thee for it; and heaven forbid,
That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid.
Fit counsellor, and servant for a prince,
Who by thy wisdom mak'st a prince thy servant,

What would'st thou have me do?

Hel.
To bear with patience
Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself.

Per.
Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus,
That ministers a potion unto me,
That thou would'st tremble to receive thyself.
Attend me, then: I went to Antioch,
Where, as thou know'st, against the face of death
I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty,
From whence an issue I might propagate,
Are arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects.
Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder;
The rest (hark in thine ear) as black as incest:
Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father
Seem'd not to strike, but smooth; but thou know'st this,
'Tis time to fear, when tyrants seem to kiss.
Which fear so grew in me, I hither fled
Under the covering of a careful night,
Who seem'd my good protector; and being here,
Bethought me what was past, what might succeed.
I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears
Decrease not, but grow faster than the years.
And should he doubt it^{5 note}, (as no doubt he doth)
That I should open to the listening air,
How many worthy princes' bloods were shed,
To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope,
To lop that doubt he'll fill this land with arms,
And make pretence of wrong that I have done him;
When all, for mine, if I may call't, offence,
Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence:
Which love to all, of which thyself art one,

Who now reprov'st me for it—

Hel.
Alas, sir!

Per.
Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks,
Musings into my mind, a thousand doubts
How I might stop this tempest ere it came;
And finding little comfort to relieve them,
I thought it princely charity to grieve them.

Hel.
Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak,
Freely will I speak. Antiochus you fear,
And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant,
Who either by public war, or private treason,
Will take away your life.
Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while,
Till that his rage and anger be forgot,
Or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life.
Your rule direct to any; if to me,
Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be.

Per.
I do not doubt thy faith;
But should he wrong my liberties in my absence?

Hel.
We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth,
From whence we had our being and our birth.

Per.
Tyre, I now look from thee, then; and to Tharsus
Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee,
And by whose letters I'll dispose myself.
The care I had, and have, of subjects' good,
On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength can bear it.
I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath;
Who shuns not to break one, will sure crack both^{6 note}.
But in our orbs we live so round and safe,
That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince^{7 note},
Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Tyre. An Ante-chamber in the Palace. Enter Thaliard.

Thal.

So, this is Tyre, and this is the court. Here must I kill king Pericles; and if I do not, I am sure to be hanged at home: 'tis dangerous.—Well, I perceive he was a wise fellow, and had good discretion, that being bid to ask what he would of the king, desired he might know none of his secrets: now do I see he had some reason for it; for if a king bid a man be a villain, he is bound by the indenture of his oath to be one.— Hush! here come the lords of Tyre.

Hel.
You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre,
Farther to question me of your king's departure:
His seal'd commission, left in trust with me,
Doth speak sufficiently, he's gone to travel.

Thal. [Aside.]
How! the king gone?

Hel.
If farther yet you will be satisfied,
Why, as it were unlicens'd of your loves,
He would depart, I'll give some light unto you.
Being at Antioch—

Thal. [Aside.]
What from Antioch?

Hel.
Royal Antiochus (on what cause I know not)
Took some displeasure at him: at least, he judg'd so;
And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd,
To show his sorrow he'd correct himself;
So puts himself unto the shipman's toil,
With whom each minute threatens life or death.

Thal. [Aside.]
Well, I perceive
I shall not be hang'd now, although I would;

But since he's gone, the king's seas must please:
He 'scap'd the land, to perish at the sea.—
I'll present myself.—[To them.] Peace to the lords of Tyre.

Hel.
Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome.

Thal.
From him I come,
With message unto princely Pericles;
But since my landing I have understood,
Your lord hath betook himself to unknown travels,
My message^{8 note} must return from whence it came.

Hel.
We have no reason to desire it,
Commended to our master, not to us:
Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire,
As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in the Governor's House. Enter Cleon, Dionyza, and Attendants.

Cle.
My Dionyza, shall we rest us here,
And by relating tales of other's griefs,
See if 'twill teach us to forget our own?

Dio.
That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it;
For who dig hills because they do aspire,
Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher.
O my distressed lord! even such our griefs;
Here they're but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes,
But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise.

Cle.
O Dionyza,
Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it,
Or can conceal his hunger, till he famish?

Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep^{9 note}
Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep,
Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder;
That if heaven slumber, while their creatures want,
They may awake their helps to comfort them.
I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years,
And, wanting breath to speak, help me with tears.

Dio.
I'll do my best, sir.

Cle.
This Tharsus, o'er which I have the government,
A city, on whom plenty held full hand,
For riches strew'd herself even in the streets,
Whose towers bore heads so high, they kiss'd the clouds,
And strangers ne'er beheld, but wonder'd at;
Whose men and dames so jetted^{1 note}, and adorn'd,
Like one another's glass to trim them by:
Their tables were stor'd full to glad the sight,
And not so much to feed on as delight;
All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great,
The name of help grew odious to repeat.

Dio.
O! 'tis too true.

Cle.
But see what heaven can do! By this our change,
These mouths, whom but of late, earth, sea, and air,
Were all too little to content and please,
Although they gave their creatures in abundance,
As houses are defil'd for want of use,
They are now starv'd for want of exercise:
Those palates, who not yet two summers younger^{2 note},

Must have inventions to delight the taste,
Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it:
Those mothers who to nousle up their babes
Thought nought too curious, are ready now
To eat those little darlings whom they lov'd.
So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife
Draw lots, who first shall die to lengthen life.
Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping;
Here many sink, yet those which see them fall,
Have scarce strength left to give them burial.
Is not this true?

Dio.
Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.

Cle.
O! let those cities, that of plenty's cup
And her prosperities so largely taste,
With their superfluous riots, hear these tears:
The misery of Tharsus may be theirs. Enter a Lord.

Lord.
Where's the lord governor?

Cle.
Here.
Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st, in haste,
For comfort is too far for us to expect.

Lord.
We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore,
A portly sail of ships make hitherward.

Cle.
I thought as much.
One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir
That may succeed as his inheritor;
And so in ours. Some neighbouring nation,
Taking advantage of our misery,
Hath stuff'd^{3 note} these hollow vessels with their power,
To beat us down, the which are down already;
And make a conquest of unhappy me,
Whereas no glory's got to overcome.

Lord.
That's the least fear; for by the semblance
Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace,
And come to us as favourers, not as foes.

Cle.
Thou speak'st like him's^{4 note} untutor'd to repeat;
Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.
But bring they what they will, and what they can,
What need we fear^{5 note}?
The ground's the low'st, and we are half way there.
Go, tell their general we attend him here,
To know for what he comes, and whence he comes,
And what he craves.

Lord.
I go, my lord. [Exit.

Cle.
Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist^{6 note};
If wars, we are unable to resist. Enter Pericles, with Attendants.

Per.
Lord governor, for so we hear you are,
Let not our ships and number of our men,
Be, like a beacon fir'd, to amaze your eyes.
We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre,
And seen the desolation of your streets;
Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears,
But to relieve them of their heavy load:
And these our ships you happily may think
Are like the Trojan horse, was stuff'd within
With bloody veins^{7 note}
, expecting overthrow,
Are stor'd with corn to make your needy bread,
And give them life whom hunger starv'd half dead.

All.
The gods of Greece protect you!
And we'll pray for you.

Per.
Arise, I pray you, arise:
We do not look for reverence, but for love,
And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men.

Cle.
The which when any shall not gratify,
Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought,
Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves,
The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils!
Till when, (the which, I hope, shall ne'er be seen)
Your grace is welcome to our town and us.

Per.
Which welcome we'll accept; feast here a while,
Until our stars that frown lend us a smile. [Exeunt.