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Now sleep y-slaked hath the rout; No din but snores the house about, Made louder by the o’er-fed breast Of this most pompous marriage-feast. The cat, with eyne of burning coal, Now crouches fore the mouse’s hole; And crickets sing at the oven’s mouth, E’er the blither for their drouth. Hymen hath brought the bride to bed. Where, by the loss of maidenhead, A babe is moulded. Be attent, And time that is so briefly spent With your fine fancies quaintly eche: What’s dumb in show I’ll plain with speech. DUMB SHOW.
Now sleep, the tired crowd has gone; No sound but snoring fills the house, Made louder by the overfed chest Of this grand wedding feast. The cat, with eyes like burning coal, Now crouches by the mouse’s hole; And crickets sing near the oven’s mouth, Happy now after their thirst. Hymen has brought the bride to bed. Where, by losing her virginity, A baby is born. Pay attention, And while time is short, Let your clever thoughts entertain you: What’s silent in the performance I’ll explain with words. DUMB SHOW.
By many a dern and painful perch Of Pericles the careful search, By the four opposing coigns Which the world together joins, Is made with all due diligence That horse and sail and high expense Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre, Fame answering the most strange inquire, To the court of King Simonides Are letters brought, the tenor these: Antiochus and his daughter dead; The men of Tyrus on the head Of Helicanus would set on The crown of Tyre, but he will none: The mutiny he there hastes t’ oppress; Says to ’em, if King Pericles Come not home in twice six moons, He, obedient to their dooms, Will take the crown. The sum of this, Brought hither to Pentapolis, Y-ravished the regions round, And every one with claps can sound, ’Our heir-apparent is a king! Who dream’d, who thought of such a thing?’ Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre: His queen with child makes her desire-- Which who shall cross?--along to go: Omit we all their dole and woe: Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, And so to sea. Their vessel shakes On Neptune’s billow; half the flood Hath their keel cut: but fortune’s mood Varies again; the grisly north Disgorges such a tempest forth, That, as a duck for life that dives, So up and down the poor ship drives: The lady shrieks, and well-a-near Does fall in travail with her fear: And what ensues in this fell storm Shall for itself itself perform. I nill relate, action may Conveniently the rest convey; Which might not what by me is told. In your imagination hold This stage the ship, upon whose deck The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.
By many a hard and painful journey Of Pericles’ careful search, By the four corners of the world Which bind the world together, It’s done with all due effort That horse, ship, and high costs Can support the quest. Finally, from Tyre, Fame responds to the strange inquiry, To the court of King Simonides Are letters brought, with news like this: Antiochus and his daughter dead; The people of Tyre want to crown Helicanus as king, But he refuses: He hurries to stop the mutiny; Tells them that if King Pericles Doesn’t return in twelve months, He, following their orders, Will take the crown. The news of this, Brought here to Pentapolis, Shakes the surrounding regions, And everyone celebrates, ’Our heir apparent is a king! Who could have dreamed of such a thing?’ Briefly, Pericles must leave for Tyre: His pregnant queen wishes to go with him— Who could stop her? Let’s skip over their sorrow and pain: Lychorida, her nurse, accompanies her, And they set sail. Their ship shakes On Neptune’s waves; half the sea Has their ship’s keel cut through: but fortune changes; The fierce north wind Throws up such a storm, That, like a duck diving for its life, The poor ship goes up and down: The lady screams, and almost Goes into labor from fear: And what happens in this terrible storm Will happen by itself. I won’t tell you, action will Helpfully fill in the rest; Which might not be as I’ve told it. In your mind, picture this stage as the ship, Where the sea-tossed Pericles appears to speak.