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  • Title: Pericles, Prince of Tyre (Modern)
  • Editor: Tom Bishop

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Tom Bishop
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Pericles, Prince of Tyre (Modern)

    500Enter Gower.
    Here have you seen a mighty king
    His child, I wis, to incest bring;
    A better prince and benign lord
    That will prove aweful both in deed and word.
    505Be quiet then, as men should be,
    Till he hath passed necessity:
    I'll show you those in troubles reign
    Losing a mite, a mountain gain.
    The good in conversation,
    510To whom I give my benison,
    Is still at Tharsus, where each man
    Thinks all is writ he speken can,
    And to remember what he does
    Build his statue to make him glorious.
    515But tidings to the contrary
    Are brought your eyes; what need speak I?
    Dumb Show.
    Enter at one door, Pericles talking with Cleon, all the train with them. Enter at another door, a gentleman with a 520letter to Pericles. Pericles shows the letter to Cleon. Pericles gives the Messenger a reward, and knights him.
    Exit Pericles at one door, and Cleon at another[, with their attendants].
    Good Helicane that stayed at home --
    Not to eat honey like a drone
    525From others' labors, though he strive
    To killen bad, keep good alive,
    And to fulfil his prince' desire --
    Sends word of all that haps in Tyre:
    How Thaliard came full bent with sin,
    530And hid intent to murder him,
    And that in Tharsus was not best
    Longer for him to make his rest.
    He doing so, put forth to seas,
    Where when men been, there's seldom ease.
    535For now the wind begins to blow;
    Thunder above and deeps below
    Makes such unquiet that the ship
    Should house him safe is wracked and split,
    And he, good prince, having all lost,
    540By waves from coast to coast is tossed.
    All perishen of man, of pelf,
    Ne aught escapend but himself;
    Till Fortune, tired with doing bad,
    Threw him ashore to give him glad;
    545And here he comes. What shall be next --
    Pardon old Gower -- this 'longs the text.