Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

William Shakespeare was born in April 1564 in the town of Stratford-upon-Avon, on England’s Avon River. When he was eighteen, he married Anne Hathaway. The couple had three children—an older daughter Susanna and twins, Judith and Hamnet. Hamnet, Shakespeare’s only son, died in childhood. The bulk of Shakespeare’s working life was spent in the theater world of London, where he established himself professionally by the early 1590s. He enjoyed success not only as a playwright and poet, but also as an actor and shareholder in an acting company. Although some think that sometime between 1610 and 1613 Shakespeare retired from the theater and returned home to Stratford, where he died in 1616, others believe that he may have continued to work in London until close to his death.

Barbara A. Mowat is Director of Research emerita at the Folger Shakespeare Library, Consulting Editor of Shakespeare Quarterly, and author of The Dramaturgy of Shakespeare’s Romances and of essays on Shakespeare’s plays and their editing.

Paul Werstine is Professor of English at the Graduate School and at King’s University College at Western University. He is a general editor of the New Variorum Shakespeare and author of Early Modern Playhouse Manuscripts and the Editing of Shakespeare and of many papers and articles on the printing and editing of Shakespeare’s plays.

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Pericles

Washington Square Press

ACT 1

1 Chorus

Enter Gower.

Gower

To sing a song that old was sung,

From ashes ancient Gower is come,

Assuming man's infirmities

To glad your ear and please your eyes.

It hath been sung at festivals,

On ember eves and holy days,

And Lords and ladies in their lives

Have read it for restoratives.

The purchase is to make men glorious,

Et bonum quo antiquius, eo melius.

If you, born in these latter times

When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes,

And that to hear an old man sing

May to your wishes pleasure bring,

I life would wish, and that I might

Waste it for you like taper light.

This Antioch, then: Antiochus the Great

Built up this city for his chiefest seat,

The fairest in all Syria.

I tell you what mine authors say.

This king unto him took a peer,

Who died and left a female heir

So buxom, blithe, and full of face

As heaven had lent her all his grace;

With whom the father liking took

And her to incest did provoke.

Bad child, worse father! To entice his own

To evil should be done by none.

But custom what they did begin

Was with long use accounted no sin.

The beauty of this sinful dame

Made many princes thither frame

To seek her as a bedfellow,

In marriage pleasures playfellow;

Which to prevent he made a law

To keep her still, and men in awe,

That whoso asked her for his wife,

His riddle told not, lost his life.

So for her many a wight did die,

As yon grim looks do testify.

He indicates heads above the stage.

What now ensues, to the judgment of your eye

I give my cause, who best can justify.

He exits.

Scene 1

Enter Antiochus, Prince Pericles, and followers.

Antiochus

Young Prince of Tyre, you have at large received

The danger of the task you undertake.

Pericles

I have, Antiochus, and with a soul

Emboldened with the glory of her praise

Think death no hazard in this enterprise.

Antiochus

Music! Music sounds offstage.

Bring in our Daughter, clothèd like a bride

For embracements even of Jove himself,

At whose conception, till Lucina reigned,

Nature this dowry gave: to glad her presence,

The senate house of planets all did sit

To knit in her their best perfections.

Enter Antiochus' Daughter.

Pericles

See where she comes, appareled 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 celestial tree

Or die in th' adventure, be my helps,

As I am son and servant to your will,

To compass such a boundless happiness.

Antiochus

Prince Pericles --

Pericles

That would be son to great Antiochus.

Antiochus

Before thee stands this fair Hesperides,

With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched;

For deathlike 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 the whole heap must die.

He points to the heads.

Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself,

Drawn by report, advent'rous 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.

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 remembered 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,

To the Daughter. But my unspotted fire of love to you. --

Thus ready for the way of life or death,

I wait the sharpest blow.

Antiochus

Scorning advice, read the conclusion, then:

Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed,

As these before thee, thou thyself shalt bleed.

Daughter

Of all 'sayed yet, mayst thou prove prosperous;

Of all 'sayed yet, I wish thee happiness.

Pericles

Like a bold champion I assume the lists,

Nor ask advice of any other thought

But faithfulness and courage.

He reads the Riddle:

I am no viper, yet I feed

On mother's flesh which did me breed.

I sought a husband, in which labor

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.

Aside. Sharp physic is the last! But, O you powers

That gives 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

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, fingered to make man his lawful music,

Would draw heaven down and all the gods to

hearken;

But, being played upon before your time,

Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime.

Good sooth, I care not for you.

Antiochus

Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life,

For that's an article within our law

As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired.

Either expound now or receive your sentence.

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 wand'ring 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

Copped hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is thronged

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 being bred;

Then give my tongue like leave to love my head.

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 tenor 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...