A	>>	B	>>	C	>>	D	>>	E
F	>>	G	>>	H	>>	I	>>	J
K	>>	L	>>	M	>>	N	>>	O
P	>>	R	>>	S	>>	T	>>	U
V	>>	W	>>			X	>>	Z

Plato - "Crito"

Frances E. W. Harper - "Poems, by Frances E. W. Harper"

Sara Teasdale - "Love Songs, by Sara Teasdale"

Virginia Woolf - "Night and Day"

Tales of Shakespeare

C >> Charles and Mary Lamb >> Tales of Shakespeare




Marina looked towards the sea, her birthplace, and said: 'Is the wind
westerly that blows?' 'South-west,' replied Leonine. 'When I was born
the wind was north,' said she: and then the storm and tempest, and all
her father's sorrows, and her mother's death, came full into her mind;
and she said: 'My father, as Lychorida told me, did never fear, but
cried, Courage, good seamen, to the sailors, galling his princely hands
with the ropes, and, clasping to the masts, he endured a sea that
almost split the deck.' 'When was this?' said Leonine. 'When I was
born,' replied Marina: 'never were wind and waves more violent'; and
then she described the storm, the action of the sailors, the boatswain's
whistle, and the loud call of the master, 'which,' said she, 'trebled the
confusion of the ship.' Lychorida had so often recounted to Marina the
story of her hapless birth that these things seemed ever present to her
imagination. But here Leonine interrupted her with desiring her to say
her prayers. 'What mean you?' said Marina, who began to fear, she
knew not why. 'If you require a little space for prayer, I grant it,' said
Leonine; 'but be not tedious, the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
to do my work in haste.' 'Will you kill me?' said Marina: 'alas! why?'
'To satisfy my lady,' replied Leonine. 'Why would she have me killed?'
said Marina: 'now, as I can remember, I never hurt her in all my life. I
never spake bad word, nor did any ill turn to any living creature.
Believe me now, I never killed a mouse, nor hurt a fly. I trod upon a
worm once against my will, but I wept for it. How have I offended?'
The murderer replied: 'My commission is not to reason on the deed,
but to do it.' And he was just going to kill her, when certain pirates
happened to land at that very moment, who seeing Marina, bore her
off as a prize to their ship.

The pirate who had made Marina his prize carried her to Mitylene,
and sold her for a slave, where, though in that humble condition,
Marina soon became known throughout the whole city of Mitylene for
her beauty and her virtues; and the person to whom she was sold
became rich by the money she earned for him. She taught music,
dancing, and fine needleworks, and the money she got by her scholars
she gave to her master and mistress; and the fame of her learning and
her great industry came to the knowledge of Lysimachus, a young
nobleman who was governor of Mitylene, and Lysimachus went
himself to the house where Marina dwelt, to see this paragon of
excellence, whom all the city praised so highly. Her conversation
delighted Lysimachus beyond measure, for though he had heard much
of this admired maiden, he did not expect to find her so sensible a
lady, so virtuous, and so good, as he perceived Marina to be; and he
left her, saying, he hoped she would persevere in her industrious and
virtuous course, and that if ever she heard from him again it should be
for her good. Lysimachus thought Marina such a miracle for sense,
fine breeding, and excellent qualities, as well as for beauty and all
outward graces, that he wished to marry her, and notwithstanding her
humble situation, he hoped to find that her birth was noble; but ever
when they asked her parentage she would sit still and weep.

Meantime, at Tarsus, Leonine, fearing the anger of Dionysia, told her
he had killed Marina; and that wicked woman gave out that she was
dead, and made a pretended funeral for her, and erected a stately
monument; and shortly after Pericles, accompanied by his royal
minister Helicanus, made a voyage from Tyre to Tarsus, on purpose to
see his daughter, intending to take her home with him: and he never
having beheld her since he left her an infant in the care of Cleon and
his wife, how did this good prince rejoice at the thought of seeing this
dear child of his buried queen! but when they told him Marina was
dead, and showed the monument they had erected for her, great was
the misery this most wretched father endured, and not being able to
bear the sight of that country where his last hope and only memory of
his dear Thaisa was entombed, he took ship, and hastily departed from
Tarsus. From the day he entered the ship a dull and heavy melancholy
seized him. He never spoke, and seemed totally insensible to
everything around him.

Sailing from Tarsus to Tyre, the ship in its course passed by Mitylene,
where Marina dwelt; the governor of which place, Lysimachus,
observing this royal vessel from the shore, and desirous of knowing
who was on board, went in a barge to the side of the ship, to satisfy
his curiosity. Helicanus received him very courteously and told him
that the ship came from Tyre, and that they were conducting thither
Pericles, their prince; 'A man, sir,' said Helicanus, 'who has not spoken
to any one these three months, nor taken any sustenance, but just to
prolong his grief; it would be tedious to repeat the whole ground of
his distemper, but the main springs from the loss of a beloved
daughter and a wife.' Lysimachus begged to see this afflicted prince,
and when he beheld Pericles, he saw he had been once a goodly
person, and he said to him: 'Sir king, all hail, the gods preserve you,
hail, royal sir!' But in vain Lysimachus spoke to him; Pericles made no
answer, nor did he appear to perceive any stranger approached. And
then Lysimachus bethought him of the peerless maid Marina, that
haply with her sweet tongue she might win some answer from the
silent prince: and with the consent of Helicanus he sent for Marina,
and when she entered the ship in which her own father sat motionless
with grief, they welcomed her on board as if they had known she was
their princess; and they cried: 'She is a gallant lady.' Lysimachus was
well pleased to hear their commendations, and he said: 'She is such a
one, that were I well assured she came of noble birth, I would wish no
better choice, and think me rarely blessed in a wife.' And then he
addressed her in courtly terms, as if the lowly-seeming maid had been
the high-born lady he wished to kind her, calling her Fair and
beautiful Marina, telling her a great prince on board that ship had
fallen into a sad and mournful silence; and, as if Marina had the
power of conferring health and felicity, he begged she would
undertake to cure the royal stranger of his melancholy. 'Sir,' said
Marina, 'I will use my utmost skill in his recovery, provided none but I
and my maid be suffered to come near him.'

She, who at Mitylene had so carefully concealed her birth, ashamed to
tell that one of royal ancestry was now a slave, first began to speak to
Pericles of the wayward changes in her own fate, telling him from
what a high estate herself had fallen. As if she had known it was her
royal father she stood before, all the words she spoke were of her own
sorrows; but her reason for so doing was, that she knew nothing more
wins the attention of the unfortunate than the recital of some sad
calamity to match their own. The sound of her sweet voice aroused
the drooping prince; he lifted up his eyes, which had been so long
fixed and motionless; and Marina, who was the perfect image of her
mother, presented to his amazed sight the features of his dead queen.
The long-silent prince was once more heard to speak. 'My dearest
wife,' said the awakened Pericles, 'was like this maid, and such a one
might my daughter have been. My queen's square brows, her stature to
an inch, as wand-like straight, as silver-voiced, her eyes as jewel-like.
Where do you live, young maid? Report your parentage. I think you
said you had been tossed from wrong to injury, and that you thought
your griefs would equal mine, if both were opened.' 'Some such thing I
said,' replied Marina, 'and said no more than what my thoughts did
warrant me as likely.' 'Tell me your story,' answered Pericles; 'if I find
you have known the thousandth part of my endurance, you have borne
your sorrows like a man, and I have suffered like a girl; yet you do
look like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling extremity out
of act. How lost you your name, my most kind virgin? Recount your
story I beseech you. Come, sit by me.' How was Pericles surprised
when she said her name was Marina, for he knew it was no usual
name, but had been invented by himself for his own child to signify
seaborn: 'O, I am mocked,' said he, 'and you are sent hither by some
incensed god to make the world laugh at me.' 'Patience, good sir,' said
Marina, 'or I must cease here.' 'Nay,' said Pericles, 'I will be patient;
you little know how you do startle me, to call yourself Marina.' 'The
name,' she replied, 'was given me by one that had some power, my
father, and a king.' 'How, a king's daughter! ' said Pericles, 'and called
Marina! But are you flesh and blood? Are you no fairy? Speak on;
where were you born? and wherefore called Marina?' She replied: 'I
was called Marina, because I was born at sea. My mother was the
daughter of a king; she died the minute I was born, as my good nurse
Lychorida has often told me weeping. The king, my father, left me at
Tarsus, till the cruel wife of Cleon sought to murder me. A crew of
pirates came and rescued me, and brought me here to Mitylene. But,
good sir, why do you weep? It may be, you think me an impostor. But,
indeed, sir, I am the daughter to king Pericles, if good king Pericles be
living.' Then Pericles, terrified as he seemed at his own sudden joy,
and doubtful if this could be real, loudly called for his attendants, who
rejoiced at the sound of their beloved king's voice; and he said to
Helicanus: 'O Helicanus, strike me, give me a gash, put me to present
pain, lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me, overbear the shores
of my mortality. O, come hither, thou that west born at sea, buried at
Tarsus, and found at sea again. O Helicanus, down on your knees,
thank the holy gods! This is Marina. Now blessings on thee, my child!
Give me fresh garments, mine own Helicanus! She is not dead at
Tarsus as she should have been by the savage Dionysia. She shall tell
you all, when you shall kneel to her and call her your very princess.
Who is this?' (observing Lysimachus for the first time). 'Sir,' said
Helicanus, 'it is the governor of Mitylene, who, hearing of your
melancholy, came to see you.' 'I embrace you, sir,' said Pericles. 'Give
me my robes! I am wild with beholding--O heaven bless my girl! But
hark, what music is that?'--for now, either sent by some kind god, or
by his own delighted fancy deceived, he seemed to hear soft music.
'My lord, I hear none,' replied Helicanus. 'None?' said Pericles; 'why it
is the music of the spheres.' As there was no music to be heard,
Lysimachus concluded that the sudden joy had unsettled the prince's
understanding; and he said: 'It is not good to cross him: let him have
his way': and then they told him they heard the music; and he now
complaining of a drowsy slumber coming over him, Lysimachus
persuaded him to rest on a couch, and placing a pillow under his head,
he, quite overpowered with excess of joy, sank into a sound sleep, and
Marina watched in silence by the couch of her sleeping parent.

While he slept, Pericles dreamed a dream which made him resolve to
go to Ephesus. His dream was, that Diana, the goddess of the
Ephesians, appeared to him, and commanded him to go to her temple
at Ephesus, and there before her altar to declare the story of his life
and misfortunes; and by her silver bow she swore, that if he
performed her injunction, he should meet with some rate felicity.
When he awoke, being miraculously refreshed, he told his dream, and
that his resolution was to obey the bidding of the goddess.

Then Lysimachus invited Pericles to come on shore, and refresh
himself with such entertainment as he should find at Mitylene, which
courteous offer Pericles accepting, agreed to tarry with him for the
space of a day or two. During which time we may well suppose what
feastings, what rejoicings, what costly shows and entertainments the
governor made in Mitylene, to greet the royal father of his dear
Marina, whom in her obscure fortunes he had so respected. Nor did
Pericles frown upon Lysimachus's suit, when he understood how he
had honoured his child in the days of her low estate, and that Marina
showed herself not averse to his proposals; only he made it a
condition, before he gave his consent, that they should visit with him
the shrine of the Ephesian Diana: to whose temple they shortly after
all three undertook a voyage; and, the goddess herself filling their
sails with prosperous winds, after a few weeks they arrived in safety at
Ephesus.

There was standing near the altar of the goddess, when Pericles with
his train entered the temple, the good Cerimon (now grown very aged)
who had restored Thaisa, the wife of Pericles, to life; and Thaisa, now
a priestess of the temple, was standing before the altar; and though the
many years he had passed in sorrow for her loss had much altered
Pericles, Thaisa thought she knew her husband's features, and when he
approached the altar and began to speak, she remembered his voice,
and listened to his words with wonder and a joyful amazement. And
these were the words that Pericles spoke before the altar: 'Hail, Diana!
to perform thy just commands, I here confess myself the prince of
Tyre, who, frighted from my country, at Pentapolis wedded the fair
Thaisa: she died at sea in childbed, but brought forth a maid-child
called Marina. She at Tarsus was nursed with Dionysia, who at
fourteen years thought to kill her, but her better stars brought her to
Mitylene, by whose shores as I sailed, her good fortunes brought this
maid on board, where by her most clear remembrance she made
herself known to be my daughter.'

Thaisa, unable to bear the transports which his words had raised in
her, cried out: 'You are, you are, O royal Pericles'-- and fainted. 'What
means this woman?' said Pericles: 'she dies! gentlemen, help.' 'Sir,'
said Cerimon, 'if you have told Diana's altar true, this is your wife.'
'Reverend gentleman, no,' said Pericles: 'I threw her overboard with
these very arms.' Cerimon then recounted how, early one tempestuous
morning, this lady was thrown upon the Ephesian shore; how, opening
the coffin, he found therein rich jewels, and a paper; how, happily, he
recovered her, and placed her here in Diana's temple. And now,
Thaisa being restored from her swoon said: 'O my lord, are you not
Pericles? Like him you speak, like him you are. Did you not name a
tempest, a birth, and death?' He astonished said: 'The voice of dead
Thaisa!' 'That Thaisa am I,' she replied, 'supposed dead and drowned.'
'O true Diana!' exclaimed Pericles, in a passion of devout
astonishment. 'And now,' said Thaisa, 'I know you better. Such a ring
as I see on your finger did the king my father give you, when we with
tears parted from him at Pentapolis.' 'Enough, you gods!' cried
Pericles, 'your present kindness makes my past miseries sport. O
come, Thaisa, be buried a second time within these arms.

And Marina said: 'My heart leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom.'
Then did Pericles show his daughter to her mother, saying: 'Look who
kneels here, flesh of thy flesh, thy burthen at sea, and called Marina,
because she was yielded there.' 'Blessed and my own!' said Thaisa: and
while she hung in rapturous joy over her child, Pericles knelt before
the altar, saying: 'Pure Diana, bless thee for thy vision. For this, I will
offer oblations nightly to thee.' And then and there did Pericles, with
the consent of Thaisa, solemnly affiance their daughter, the virtuous
Marina, to the well-deserving Lysimachus in marriage.

Thus have we seen in Pericles, his queen, and daughter, a famous
example of virtue assailed by calamity (through the sufferance of
Heaven, to teach patience and constancy to men), under the same
guidance becoming finally successful, and triumphing over chance
and change. In Helicanus we have beheld a notable pattern of truth, of
faith, and loyalty, who, when he might have succeeded to a shone,
chose rather to recall the rightful owner to his possession, than to
become great by another's wrong. In the worthy Cerimon, who
restored Thaisa to life, we are instructed how goodness directed by
knowledge, in bestowing benefits upon mankind, approaches to the
nature of the gods. It only remains to be told, that Dionysia, the
wicked wife of Cleon, met with an end proportionable to her deserts;
the inhabitants of Tarsus, when her cruel attempt upon Marina was
known, rising in a body to revenge the daughter of their benefactor,
and setting fire to the palace of Cleon, burnt both him and her, and
their whole household: the gods seeming well pleased, that so foul a
murder, though but intentional, and never carried into act, should be
punished in a way befitting its enormity.

Copyright (c) 2007. fullstories.net. All rights reserved.