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near the altar, as high priestess; a number of Virgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending.
near the altar, as high priestess; a number of Virgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending.
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.
Hail, Diana! To follow your sacred command, I confess here that I am the king of Tyre; Who, fleeing from my homeland, married The fair Thaisa at Pentapolis. She died at sea while giving birth, but gave birth To a daughter named Marina; who, O goddess, Still wears your silver robes. She was raised in Tarsus By Cleon; and at fourteen years He tried to kill her: but her lucky stars Brought her to Mytilene; where, when we were near The shore, fortune brought the girl aboard us, And through her own clear memory, she Revealed that she was my daughter.
Voice and favour! You are, you are--O royal Pericles!
Voice and appearance! It’s you, it’s really you—O royal Pericles!
What means the nun? she dies! help, gentlemen!
What’s happening to the lady? She’s fainting! Help, someone!
Noble sir, If you have told Diana’s altar true, This is your wife.
Sir, if what you’ve told me about Diana’s altar is true, This is your wife.
Reverend appearer, no; I threw her overboard with these very arms.
No, holy man, I threw her overboard with my own hands.
Upon this coast, I warrant you.
I’m sure it happened on this coast.
’Tis most certain.
It’s absolutely true.
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.
Look at her; oh, she’s just overcome with joy. Early this morning, during a storm, she was Washed up on this shore. I opened the coffin, Found valuable jewels inside; I saved her and placed her Here, in the temple of Diana.
May we see them?
Can we see them?
Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house, Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is recovered.
Yes, sir, they’ll be brought to my house, Where I invite you to come. Look, Thaisa has been revived.
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?
Oh, let me see! If he’s not my husband, my faith Won’t let me listen to such thoughts, But will stop them, no matter how real they seem. Oh, my lord, Are you Pericles? You spoke just like him, You look just like him: didn’t you mention a storm, A birth, and a death?
The voice of dead Thaisa!
The voice of my dead wife, Thaisa!
That Thaisa am I, supposed dead And drown’d.
Yes, I am Thaisa, thought to be dead And drowned.
Immortal Dian!
Immortal Diana!
Now I know you better. When we with tears parted Pentapolis, The king my father gave you such a ring.
Now I recognize you. When we parted in tears at Pentapolis, My father, the king, gave you this 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.
This ring! This ring! No more, gods! Your kindness Now makes my past suffering seem like a joke: you’ve done well, For when I touch her lips, I’ll melt away and be lost again. Oh, come, be embraced, And buried in my arms once more.
My heart Leaps to be gone into my mother’s bosom.
My heart Leaps to be held again by my mother.
Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa; Thy burden at the sea, and call’d Marina For she was yielded there.
Look, who is kneeling here! Flesh of your flesh, Thaisa; Your burden at sea, and named Marina Because she was born there.
Blest, and mine own!
Blessed, and mine own!
Hail, madam, and my queen!
Hello, madam, and my queen!
I know you not.
I don’t know you.
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.
You’ve heard me say, when I fled from Tyre, I left behind an old substitute: Can you remember the man I called him? I’ve mentioned him many times.
’Twas Helicanus then.
It was Helicanus then.
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.
Still true: Hug him, dear Thaisa; this is him. Now I long to hear how you were found; How you were possibly kept alive; 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.
Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man, Through whom the gods have shown their power; he can Tell you everything from start to finish.
Reverend sir, The gods can have no mortal officer More like a god than you. Will you deliver How this dead queen re-lives?
Reverend sir, The gods could have no mortal servant More godlike than you. Will you explain How this dead queen came back to life?
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.
I will, my lord. Please, first come with me to my house, Where I’ll show you everything that was found with her; How she was placed here in the temple; Nothing will be left out.
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.
Pure Diana, bless you for your vision! I Will make offerings to you tonight. Thaisa, This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter, Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now, This hair That makes me look so grim, I’ll trim to shape; And what this fourteen years no razor touched, To celebrate your wedding day, I’ll make beautiful.
Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, sir, My father’s dead.
Lord Cerimon has letters of good reputation, sir, My father’s dead.
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.
Heaven make a star of him! Yet there, my queen, We’ll celebrate their wedding, and we Will spend our remaining days in that kingdom: Our son and daughter shall reign in Tyre. Lord Cerimon, we’ve been waiting long To hear the rest of the story: sir, lead 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.
In Antiochus and his daughter you’ve heard Of monstrous lust and its rightful punishment: In Pericles, his queen and daughter, we see, Though attacked by fortune’s fierce and sharp blows, Virtue saved from total destruction’s force, Led by heaven, and crowned with joy at last: In Helicanus, you can clearly see A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty: In reverend Cerimon, there clearly appears The worth that learned charity always wears: For wicked Cleon and his wife, when word Had spread of their cursed deeds, and their tarnished name Of Pericles, enraged the city to the point That they burned him and his family in his palace; The gods seemed content to punish them for murder; Though not yet committed, just intended. So, may patience always stay with you, And may new joy come to you! Here our play ends.