Act IV · Scene III
Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house.
Hover a speech to translate it — or press play to hear it performed.
Enter CLEON and DIONYZA
DIONYZA
Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone?
CLEON
O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughterThe sun and moon ne'er look'd upon!
DIONYZA
I thinkYou'll turn a child again.
CLEON
Were I chief lord of all this spacious world,I'ld give it to undo the deed. O lady,Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princessTo equal any single crown o' the earthI' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine!Whom thou hast poison'd too:If thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindnessBecoming well thy fact: what canst thou sayWhen noble Pericles shall demand his child?
DIONYZA
That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates,To foster it, nor ever to preserve.She died at night; I'll say so. Who can cross it?Unless you play the pious innocent,And for an honest attribute cry out'She died by foul play.'
CLEON
O, go to. Well, well,Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the godsDo like this worst.
DIONYZA
Be one of those that thinkThe petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence,And open this to Pericles. I do shameTo think of what a noble strain you are,And of how coward a spirit.
CLEON
To such proceedingWho ever but his approbation added,Though not his prime consent, he did not flowFrom honourable sources.
DIONYZA
Be it so, then:Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead,Nor none can know, Leonine being gone.She did disdain my child, and stood betweenHer and her fortunes: none would look on her,But cast their gazes on Marina's face;Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkinNot worth the time of day. It pierced me through;And though you call my course unnatural,You not your child well loving, yet I findIt greets me as an enterprise of kindnessPerform'd to your sole daughter.
CLEON
Heavens forgive it!
DIONYZA
And as for Pericles,What should he say? We wept after her hearse,And yet we mourn: her monumentIs almost finish'd, and her epitaphsIn glittering golden characters expressA general praise to her, and care in usAt whose expense 'tis done.
CLEON
Thou art like the harpy,Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face,Seize with thine eagle's talons.
DIONYZA
You are like one that superstitiouslyDoth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies:But yet I know you'll do as I advise.
Exeunt
DIONYZA
SCENE IV:
Enter GOWER, before the monument of MARINA at Tarsus
GOWER
Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short;Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for't;Making, to take your imagination,From bourn to bourn, region to region.By you being pardon'd, we commit no crimeTo use one language in each several climeWhere our scenes seem to live. I do beseech youTo learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you,The stages of our story. PericlesIs now again thwarting the wayward seas,Attended on by many a lord and knight.To see his daughter, all his life's delight.Old Escanes, whom Helicanus lateAdvanced in time to great and high estate,Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind,Old Helicanus goes along behind.Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have broughtThis king to Tarsus,--think his pilot thought;So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,--To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone.Like motes and shadows see them move awhile;Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile.DUMB SHOW.
Enter PERICLES, at one door, with all his train; CLEON and DIONYZA, at the other. CLEON shows PERICLES the tomb; whereat PERICLES makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Then exeunt CLEON and DIONYZA
GOWER
See how belief may suffer by foul show!This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe;And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd,With sighs shot through, and biggest tearso'ershower'd,Leaves Tarsus and again embarks. He swearsNever to wash his face, nor cut his hairs:He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bearsA tempest, which his mortal vessel tears,And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit.The epitaph is for Marina writBy wicked Dionyza.
Reads the inscription on MARINA's monument
GOWER
'The fairest, sweet'st, and best lies here,Who wither'd in her spring of year.She was of Tyrus the king's daughter,On whom foul death hath made this slaughter;Marina was she call'd; and at her birth,Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth:Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd,Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd:Wherefore she does, and swears she'll never stint,Make raging battery upon shores of flint.'No visor does become black villanySo well as soft and tender flattery.Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead,And bear his courses to be orderedBy Lady Fortune; while our scene must playHis daughter's woe and heavy well-a-dayIn her unholy service. Patience, then,And think you now are all in Mytilene.
Exit