And with dead cheeks advise thee to defift,
For going on death's net, whom none resist.
Per. Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught
My frail mortality to know itfelf,

And by thofe fearful objects to prepare

This body, like to them, to what I must:
For death remember'd, fhould be like a mirror,
Who tells us, life's but breath; to truft it, error.
I'll make my will then; and as fick men do,
Who know the world, fee heaven, but feeling woe,
Gripe not at earthly joys, as erft they did;
So I bequeath a happy peace to you,

And all good men, as every prince should do ;
My riches to the earth from whence they came;
But my unspotted fire of love to you.

[To the daughter of ANTIOCHUS.

Thus ready for the way of life or death,
I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus,
Scorning advice.

Ant.

Read the conclufion then;

Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed,

As these before thee, thou thyself shalt bleed.

Daugh. In all, fave that, may'st thou prove profperous ! In all, fave that, I wish thee happiness !

Per. Like a bold champion, I affume the lifts,

Nor ask advice of any other thought

But faithfulness, and courage.

[He reads the Riddle.]

I am no viper, yet I feed

On mother's flesh, which did me breed:
I fought a husband, in which labour,
I found that kindness in a father.

He's

He's father, Son, and husband mild,
I mother, wife, and yet his child.
How they may be, and yet in two,
As you will live, refolve it you.

Sharp phyfick is the laft: but O you powers!
That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts,
Why cloud they not their fights perpetually,
If this be true, which makes me pale to read it?
Fair glass of light, I lov'd you, and could still,
[Takes bold of the band of the princess.

Were not this glorious casket stor'd with ill :
But I must tell you,-now, my thoughts revolt;
For he's no man on whom perfections wait,
That knowing fin within, will touch the gate.
You're a fair viol, and your fense the strings;

Who, finger'd to make man his lawful mufick,
Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to hearken;
But, being play'd upon before your time,
Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime:
Good footh, I care not for you.

Ant. Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life,
For that's an article within our law,

As dangerous as the relt. Your time's expir'd;
Either expound now, or receive your fentence.
Per. Great king,

Few love to hear the fins they love to act;

'Twould 'braid yourself too near for me to tell it.
Who has a book of all that monarchs do,

He's more fecure to keep it shut, than shown;
For vice repeated, is like the wand'ring wind,
Blows duft in others' eyes, to spread itself;
And yet the end of all is bought thus dear,
The breath is gone, and the fore eyes fee clear

To ftop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts
Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell, the earth is wrong'd
By man's oppreffion; and the poor worm doth die for't.
Kings are earth's gods: in vice their law's their will;
And if Jove stray, who dares fay, Jove doth ill?
It is enough you know; and it is fit,

What being more known grows worse, to fmother it.
All love the womb that their first being bred,

Then give my tongue like leave to love my head.

Ant. Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found the meaning;

But I will gloze with him. [Afide.] Young prince of

Tyre,

Though, by the tenour of our strict edict,
Your expofition misinterpreting,

We might proceed to cancel of your days;
Yet hope, fucceeding from fo fair a tree
As your fair felf, doth tune us otherwise :
Forty days longer we do respite you;
If by which time our fecret be undone,
This mercy fhows, we'll joy in such a son :
And until then, your entertain shall be,

As doth befit our honour, and your worth.

[Exeunt ANTIOCHUS, his daughter, and Attend.
Per. How courtefy would feem to cover fin!
When what is done is like an hypocrite,
The which is good in nothing but in fight.
If it be true that I interpret false,

Then were it certain, you were not fo bad,
As with foul inceft to abufe your foul;
Where now you're both a father and a fon,
By your untimely clafpings with your child,
(Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father;)
And the an eater of her mother's flesh,

By

By the defiling of her parent's bed;

And both like serpents are, who though they feed
On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed.
Antioch, farewell! for wisdom fees, those men
Blush not in actions blacker than the night,
Will shun no courfe to keep them from the light.
One fin, know, another doth provoke ;
Murder's as near to luft, as flame to smoke.
Poison and treafon are the hands of fin,

Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame :
Then, left my life be cropp'd to keep you clear,
By flight I'll fhun the danger which I fear.

Re-enter ANTIOCHUS.

[Exit,

Ant. He hath found the meaning, for the which we mean

To have his head.

He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy,

Nor tell the world, Antiochus doth fin

In fuch a loathed manner:

And therefore instantly this prince must die;

For by his fall my honour must keep high.
Who attends on us there?

Thal.

Enter THALIARD..

Doth your highness call?

Ant. Thaliard, you're of our chamber, and our mind Partakes her private actions to your fecrecy; And for your faithfulness we will advance you. Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold; We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him ; It fits thee not to ask the reason why,

Because we bid it. Say, is it done?

Thal.

'Tis done.

Ant. Enough;

My lord,

Enter a Meffenger.

Left your breath cool yourself, telling your hafte.

Mef. My lord, prince Pericles is fled. [Exit Meffenger. Ant. As thou Wilt live, fly after: and, as an arrow, shot From a well-experienc'd archer, hits the mark His eye doth level at, fo thou ne'er return, Unless thou fay, Prince Pericles is dead.

Thal. My lord, if I

Can get him once within my pistol's length,

I'll make him fure: fo farewell to your highness. [Exit,

Ant, Thaliard, adieu! till Pericles be dead,

My heart can lend no fuccour to my head,

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Tyre. A Room in the Palace.

Enter PERICLES, HELICANUS, and other Lords.

Per. Let none disturb us: Why this charge of thoughts? The fad companion, dull-ey'd melancholy,

By me fo us'd a guest is, not an hour,

In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,

(The tomb where grief should sleep,) can breed me quiet! Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes fhun them, And danger, which I feared, is at Antioch,

Whofe arm feems far too short to hit me here:
Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits,

Nor