To whom this wreath of victory I give,

And crown you king of this day's happiness.

Per. 'Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit. Sim. Call it by what you will, the day is yours; And here, I hope, is none that envies it. In framing an artist art hath thus decreed,

To make some good, but others to exceed;

And you're her labour'd scholar. Come, queen o' the feast,

(For, daughter, so you are,) here take your place: Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace.

Knights. We are honour'd much by good Simonides.

Sim.

Your presence glads our days: honour we love;

For who hates honour, hates the gods above.
Marshal. Sir, yond 's your place.

Per.

Some other is more fit.

1 Knight. Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen, That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes

Envy the great, nor do the low despise.
Per. You are right courteous knights.
Sim.

Sit, sir; sit.

Per. By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, These cates resist me, she but thought upon.

Thai. By Juno, that is queen

Of marriage, all the viands that I eat

Do seem unsavoury, wishing him my meat!
Sure he's a gallant gentleman.

Sim. He's but a country gentleman:

Has done no more than other knights have done;
Has broken a staff, or so; so, let it pass.

Thai. To me he seems like diamond to glass.
Per. Yon' king 's to me like to my father's picture,
Which tells me in that glory once he was;

Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne,
And he the sun, for them to reverence.
None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights,
Did vail their crowns to his supremacy;

Where now his son, like a glow-worm in the night,
The which hath fire in darkness, none in light:
Whereby I see that Time 's the king of men;
For he's their parent, and he is their grave,

And gives them what he will, not what they crave.
Sim. What, are you merry, knights?

1 Knight. Who can be other, in this royal presence ?

Sim. Here, with a cup that's stor❜d unto the brim, (As you do love, fill to your mistress' lips.)

We drink this health to you.

Knights.

Sim. Yet pause a while

We thank your Grace.

Yond' knight doth sit too melancholy,

As if the entertainment in our Court

Had not a shew might countervail his worth.

Note it not you, Thaisa?

Thai.

To me, my father?

Sim.

What is it

O, attend, my daughter:

Princes, in this, should live like gods above,
Who freely give to every one that comes

To honour them

And princes not doing so are like to gnats,

Which make a sound, but kill'd are wonder'd at.
Therefore, to make his entrance more sweet,
Here say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him.
Thai. Alas, my father! it befits not me

Unto a stranger knight to be so bold:
He may my proffer take for an offence,
Since men take women's gifts for impudence.

Sim. How!

Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else.

Thai. [Aside.] Now, by the gods, he could not please me better.

Sim. And farther tell him, we desire to know Of whence he is, his name, and parentage.

Thai. The King my father, sir, has drunk to

you,

Per. I thank him.

Thai. Wishing it so much blood unto your life. Per. I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely.

Thai. And, farther, he desires to know of you, Of whence you are, your name and parentage. Per. A gentleman of Tyre, My education been in arts and arms,

- my name, Pericles,

Who, looking for adventures in the world,

Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men,

And after shipwreck driven upon this shore.

Thai. He thanks your Grace; names himself Pericles,

A gentleman of Tyre,

Who only by misfortune of the seas

Bereft of ships and men, cast on the shore.

Sim. Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune, And will awake him from his melancholy. Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles, And waste the time which looks for other revels. Even in your armours, as you are address'd, Will very well become a soldier's dance. I will not have excuse, with saying this Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads, Since they love men in arms as well as beds. [The Knights dance.

So, this was well ask'd, 'twas so well perform'd.

Come, sir;

Here is a lady that wants breathing too:

And I have heard, you knights of Tyre

Are excellent in making ladies trip,

And that their measures are as excellent.

Per. In those that practise them, they are, my lord.

Sim. O, that's as much, as you would be deni'd Of your fair courtesy.

[The Knights and Ladies dance. Unclasp, unclasp;

Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well,

But you the best. [To PERICLES.] Pages and lights, to conduct

These knights unto their several lodgings! — Yours, sir, We have given order to be next our own.

Per. I am at your Grace's pleasure.

Sim. Princes, it is too late to talk of love;
And that's the mark I know you level at:
Therefore, each one betake him to his rest;
To-morrow all for speeding do their best.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Tyre. A Room in the Governor's House.

Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES.

Hel. No, Escanes; know this of me,

Antiochus from incest liv'd not free:

For which the most high gods, not minding longer To withhold the vengeance that they had in store, Due to this heinous capital offence,

Even in the height and pride of all his glory,

Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him, A fire from heaven came, and shrivell'd up

Those bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk,

That all those eyes ador'd them ere their fall,
Scorn now their hand should give them burial.
Escanes. 'Twas very strange.

Hel.
And yet but justice; for though
This King were great, his greatness was no guard
To bar Heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward.
Esca. 'Tis very true.

Enter three Lords.

1 Lord. See! not a man, in private conference Or council, has respect with him but he.

2 Lord. It shall no longer grieve without reproof. 3 Lord. And curs'd be he that will not second it. 1 Lord. Follow me, then. -Lord Helicane, a word. Hel. With me? and welcome. Happy day, my

lords.

1 Lord. Know, that our griefs are risen to the top, And now at length they overflow their banks.

Hel. Your griefs! for what? wrong not the prince you love.

1 Lord. Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane; But if the prince do live, let us salute him,

Or know what ground's made happy by his breath.
If in the world he live, we'll seek him out;
If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there;
And be resolv'd, he lives to govern us,

Or dead, gives cause to mourn his funeral,
And leaves us to our free election.

2 Lord. Whose death 's, indeed, the strongest in

our censure:

And knowing this kingdom is without a head,