Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Tom Bishop
Not Peer Reviewed

Pericles, Prince of Tyre (Quarto)


Enter Cleon, and Dioniza.
Dion. Why ere you foolish, can it be vndone?
1670Cleon. O Dioniza, such a peece of slaughter,
The Sunne and Moone nere lookt vpon.
Dion. I thinke youle turne a chidle agen.
Cleon. Were I chiefe Lord of all this spacious world, Ide
giue it to vndo the deede. O Ladie much lesse in bloud then
1675vertue, yet a Princes to equall any single Crowne ath earth-
ith Iustice of compare, O villaine, Leonine whom thou hast
poisned too , if thou hadst drunke to him tad beene a
kindnesse becomming well thy face, what canst thou say
when noble Pericles shall demaund his child?
1680Dion. That shee is dead. Nurses are not the fates to fo-
ster it, not euer to preserue, she dide at night, Ile say so, who
can crosse it vnlesse you play the impious Innocent, and
for an honest attribute , crie out shee dyde by foule
play.
1685Cle. O goe too, well, well, of all the faults beneath the
heauens, the Gods doe like this worst.
Dion. Be one of those that thinkes the pettie wrens of
Tharsus will flie hence, and open this to Pericles, I do shame
to thinke of what a noble straine you are, and of how co-
1690ward a spirit.
Cle. To such proceeding who euer but his approba-
tion added, though not his prince consent, he did not flow
from honourable courses.
Dion. Be it so then, yet none does knowe but you
1695how shee came dead, nor none can knowe Leonine being
gone. Shee did disdaine my childe, and stoode betweene
her and her fortunes : none woulde looke on her, but
cast their gazes on Marianas face, whilest ours was blur-
ted at, and helde a Mawkin not worth the time of day.
1700It pierst me thorow, and though you call my course vn-
naturall, you not your childe well louing, yet I finde it
greets mee as an enterprize of kindnesse performd to your
sole daughter.
Cle. Heauens forgiue it.
1705Dion. And as for Pericles, what should hee say, we wept
after her hearse, & yet we mourne, her monument is almost
finished, & her epitaphs in glittring goldeñcharactersexpres
a generrall prayse to her, and care in vs at whose expence
tis done.
1710Cle. Thou art like the Harpie,
Which to betray, doest with thine Angells face ceaze with
thine Eagles talents.
Dion. Yere like one that supersticiously,
Doe sweare too'th Gods, that Winter kills
1715The Fliies, but yet I know, youle
doe as I aduise.