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; whom, 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.

Voice and favour!

You are, you are—O royal Pericles!

What means the nun? She dies! help, gentlemen!

Noble sir,

If you have told Diana’s altar true,

This is your wife.

Reverend appearer, no;

I threw her overboard with these very arms.

Upon this coast, I warrant you.

’Tis most certain.

Look to the lady; O, she’s but o’er-joy’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.

May we see them?

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?

The voice of dead Thaisa!

That Thaisa am I, supposed dead

And drown’d.

Immortal Dian!

Now I know you better,

When we with tears parted Pentapolis,

The king my father gave you such 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.

My heart

Leaps to be gone into my mother’s bosom.

Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa;

Thy burden at the sea, and call’d Marina

For she was yielded there.

Blest, and mine own!

Hail, madam, and my queen!

I know you not.

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.

’Twas 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.

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 relives?

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.

Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, 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.

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, the 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, although not done, but meant.

So on your patience evermore attending,

New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.