Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Tom Bishop
Not Peer Reviewed

Pericles, Prince of Tyre (Modern)

Enter Cleon and Dionyza.
Dionyza Why are you foolish? Can it be undone?
1670Cleon Oh, Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter
The sun and moon ne'er looked upon.
Dionyza I think you'll turn a child again.
Cleon Were I chief lord of all this spacious world
I'd give it to undo the deed. A lady,
Much less in blood than
1675virtue, yet a princess
To equal any single crown o'th'earth
I'th'justice of compare. O villain Leonine,
Whom thou hast
poisoned too!
If thou hadst drunk to him, 't'ad been a
Becoming well thy fact. What canst thou say
When noble Pericles shall demand his child?
1680Dionyza That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates.
To fo
ster is not ever to preserve.
She died at night. I'll say so. Who
can cross it?
Unless you play the pious innocent
for an honest attribute, cry out
"She died by foul play."
Oh, go to! Well, well:
Of all the faults beneath the
heavens, the gods
Do like this worst.
Be one of those that thinks
The petty wrens of
Tharsus will fly hence
And open this to Pericles. I do shame
To think of what a noble strain you are,
And of how co
1690ward a spirit.
To such proceeding
Who ever but his approbation
Though not his prime consent, he did not flow
From honorable courses.
Be it so then.
Yet none does know but you
1695how she came dead;
Nor none can know, Leonine being
She did distain my child, and stood between
Her and her fortunes. None would look on her
cast their gazes on Marina's face,
Whilst ours was blur
ted at and held a mawkin
Not worth the time of day.
1700It pierced me through,
And though you call my course un
You not your child well loving, yet I find
greets me as an enterprise of kindness
Performed to your
sole daughter.
Heavens, forgive it!
1705Dionyza And as for Pericles,
What should he say? We wept
after her hearse,
And yet we mourn. Her monument
Is almost
finished, and her epitaphs
In glittering golden characters express
A general praise to her, and care in us
At whose expense
'tis done.
Thou art like the harpy,
Which, to betray, dost with thine angel's face
Seize with
thine eagle's talons.
Dionyza Y'are like one that superstitiously
Do swear to the gods that winter kills
1715the flies;
But yet I know you'll
do as I advise.