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 the 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 dang’rous to be touched,

⌈He gestures towards the heads⌉

For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.

⌈He gestures towards his daughter⌉

Her heav‘n-like face 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.

Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself

Drawn by report, advent’rous by desire,

Tell thee with speechless tongues and semblants

bloodless

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

From 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 heav‘n, but feeling woe

Grip not at earthly joys as erst they did,

So I bequeath a happy peace to you

And all good men, as ev’ry prince should do;

My riches to the earth from whence they came,

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

(To Antiochus) Thus ready for the way of life or death,

I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus.

ANTIOCHUS

Scorning advice, read the conclusion then,

⌈He angrily throws down the riddle⌉

Which read and not expounded, ’tis decreed,

As these before thee, thou thyself shalt bleed.

DAUGHTER (to Pericles)

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 takes up and⌉ reads aloud the riddle

I am no viper, yet I feed

On mother’s flesh which did me breed.

I sought a husband, in which labour

I found that kindness in a father.

He’s father, son, and husband mild;

I mother, wife, and yet his child.

How this may be and yet in two,

As you will live resolve it you.

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

That gives heav’n 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?

⌈He gazes on the Daughter⌉

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’re a fair viol, and your sense the strings

Who, fingered to make man his lawful music,

Would draw heav’n 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 dang’rous 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, 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 heav’n 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)

Heav’n, that I had thy head! He’s 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.