The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. William Shakespeare
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SIMONIDES.
It’s fit it should be so; for princes are
A model, which heaven makes like to itself:
As jewels lose their glory if neglected,
So princes their renowns if not respected.
‘Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain
The labour of each knight in his device.
THALIARD.
Which, to preserve mine honour, I’ll perform.
[Enter a Knight; he passes over, and his Squire presents his shield to the Princess.]
SIMONIDES.
Who is the first that doth prefer himself?
THALIARD.
A knight of Sparta, my renowned father;
And the device he bears upon his shield
Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun:
The word, ‘Lux tua vita mihi.’
SIMONIDES.
He loves you well that holds his life of you.
[The Second Knight passes over.]
Who is the second that presents himself?
THALIARD.
A prince of Macedon, my royal father;
And the device he bears upon his shield
Is an arm’d knight that’s conquer’d by a lady;
The motto thus, in Spanish, ‘Piu por dulzura que por fuerza.’
[The Third Knight passes over.]
SIMONIDES.
And what’s the third?
THALIARD.
The third of Antioch;
And his device, a wreath of chivalry;
The word, ‘Me pompae provexit apex.’
[The Fourth Knight passes over.]
SIMONIDES.
What is the fourth?
THALIARD.
A burning torch that’s turned upside down;
The word, ‘Quod me alit, me extinguit.’
SIMONIDES.
Which shows that beauty hath his power and will,
Which can as well inflame as it can kill.
[The Fifth Knight passes over.]
THALIARD.
The fifth, an hand environed with clouds,
Holding out gold that’s by the touchstone tried;
The motto thus, ‘Sic spectanda fides.’
[The Sixith Knight, Pericles, passes over.]
SIMONIDES.
And what’s
The sixth and last, the which the knight himself
With such a graceful courtesy deliver’d?
THALIARD.
He seems to be a stranger; but his present is
A wither’d branch, that’s only green at top;
The motto, ‘In hac spe vivo.’
SIMONIDES.
A pretty moral;
From the dejected state wherein he is,
He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish.
FIRST LORD.
He had need mean better than his outward show
Can any way speak in his just commend;
For by his rusty outside he appears
To have practised more the whipstock than the lance.
SECOND LORD.
He well may be a stranger, for he comes
To an honour’d triumph strangely furnished.
THIRD LORD.
And on set purpose let his armour rust
Until this day, to scour it in the dust.
SIMONIDES.
Opinion’s but a fool, that makes us scan
The outward habit by the inward man.
But stay, the knights are coming: we will withdraw
Into the gallery.
[Exeunt.]
[Great shouts within, and all cry ‘The mean knight!’]
SCENE III. The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared.
[Enter Simonides, Thaisa, Lords, Attendants, and Knights, from tilting.]
SIMONIDES.
Knights,
To say you’re welcome were superfluous.
To place upon the volume of your deeds,
As in a title-page, your worth in arms,
Were more than you expect, or more than’s fit,
Since every worth in show commends itself.
Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast:
You are princes and my guests.
THAISA.
But you, my knight and guest;
To whom this wreath of victory I give,
And crown you king of this day’s happiness.
PERICLES.
‘Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit.
SIMONIDES.
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 are her labour’d scholar. Come queen of 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.
SIMONIDES.
Your presence glads our days; honour we love;
For who hates honour hates the gods above.
MARSHALL.
Sir, yonder is your place.
PERICLES.
Some other is more fit.
FIRST KNIGHT.
Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen
That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes
Envy the great nor do the low despise.
PERICLES.
You are right courteous knights.
SIMONIDES.
Sit, sir, sit.
PERICLES.
By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts,
These cates resist me, she but thought upon.
THAISA.
By Juno, that is queen of marriage,
All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury,
Wishing him my meat. Sure, he’s a gallant gentleman.
SIMONIDES.
He’s but a country gentleman;
Has done no more