Enter Pericles, with his train; Lysimachus, Helicanus, Marina, and a Lady
Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command, I here confess myself the king of Tyre; Who, frighted from my country, did wed At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa. At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess, Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tarsus Was nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years He sought to murder: but her better stars Brought her to Mytilene; 'gainst whose shore Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us, Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she Made known herself my daughter.
Look to the lady; O, she's but o'erjoy'd. Early in blustering morn this lady was Thrown upon this shore. I oped the coffin, Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and placed her Here in Diana's temple.
Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house, Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is recovered.
O, let me look! If he be none of mine, my sanctity Will to my sense bend no licentious ear, But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord, Are you not Pericles? Like him you spake, Like him you are: did you not name a tempest, A birth, and death?
Now I know you better. When we with tears parted Pentapolis, The king my father gave you such a ring.
Shows a ring
This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness Makes my past miseries sports: you shall do well, That on the touching of her lips I may Melt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried A second time within these arms.
Kneels to Thaisa
Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa; Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina For she was yielded there.
You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre, I left behind an ancient substitute: Can you remember what I call'd the man? I have named him oft.
Still confirmation: Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he. Now do I long to hear how you were found; How possibly preserved; and who to thank, Besides the gods, for this great miracle.
Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man, Through whom the gods have shown their power; that can From first to last resolve you.
Reverend sir, The gods can have no mortal officer More like a god than you. Will you deliver How this dead queen re-lives?
I will, my lord. Beseech you, first go with me to my house, Where shall be shown you all was found with her; How she came placed here in the temple; No needful thing omitted.
Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision! I Will offer night-oblations to thee. Thaisa, This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter, Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now, This ornament Makes me look dismal will I clip to form; And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd, To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.
Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen, We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves Will in that kingdom spend our following days: Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay To hear the rest untold: sir, lead's the way.
In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard Of monstrous lust the due and just reward: In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen, Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen, Virtue preserved from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last: In Helicanus may you well descry A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty: In reverend Cerimon there well appears The worth that learned charity aye wears: For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name Of Pericles, to rage the city turn, That him and his they in his palace burn; The gods for murder seemed so content To punish them; although not done, but meant. So, on your patience evermore attending, New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.