Pericles
Act III, Prologue
Gower
1 - 60
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Now sleep yslacked hath the rout,
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No din but snores the house about,
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Made louder by the o’erfed breast
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Of this most pompous marriage-feast.
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The cat, with eyne of burning coal,
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Now couches from the mouse’s hole;
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And crickets sing at the oven’s mouth,
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Are the blither for their drouth.
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Hymen hath brought the bride to bed,
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Where, by the loss of maidenhead,
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A babe is moulded. Be attent,
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And time that is so briefly spent
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With your fine fancies quaintly eche:
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What’s dumb in show I’ll plain with speech.
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Dumb Show.
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Enter Pericles and Simonides, at one door, with Attendants.
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The Second Tyrian Messenger meets them, kneels, and gives
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Pericles a letter. Pericles shows it Simonides; the Lords
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kneel to him. Then enter Thaisa with child, with Lychorida,
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a nurse. The King shows her the letter; she rejoices. She
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and Pericles take leave of her father, and depart with
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Lychorida and their Attendants. Then exeunt Simonides and
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the rest.
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By many a dern and painful perch,
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Of Pericles the careful search,
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By the four opposing coigns
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Which the world together joins,
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Is made with all due diligence
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That horse and sail and high expense
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Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre,
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Fame answering the most strange inquire,
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To th’ court of King Simonides
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Are letters brought, the tenor these:
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Antiochus and his daughter dead,
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The men of Tyrus on the head
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Of Helicanus would set on
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The crown of Tyre, but he will none.
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The mutiny he there hastes t’ oppress,
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Says to ’em, if King Pericles
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Come not home in twice six moons,
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He, obedient to their dooms,
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Will take the crown. The sum of this,
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Brought hither to Pentapolis,
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Yravished the regions round,
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And every one with claps can sound,
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“Our heir-apparent is a king!
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Who dreamt? Who thought of such a thing?”
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Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:
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His queen, with child, makes her desire—
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Which who shall cross?—along to go.
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Omit we all their dole and woe.
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Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,
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And so to sea. Their vessel shakes
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On Neptune’s billow; half the flood
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Hath their keel cut. But fortune, mov’d,
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Varies again; the grisled north
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Disgorges such a tempest forth,
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That, as a duck for life that dives,
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So up and down the poor ship drives.
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The lady shrieks, and well-a-near
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Does fall in travail with her fear;
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And what ensues in this fell storm
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Shall for itself itself perform.
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I nill relate, action may
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Conveniently the rest convey,
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Which might not what by me is told.
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In your imagination hold
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This stage the ship, upon whose deck
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The seas-toss’d Pericles appears to speak.