Page 177 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Enter Pericles.

PERICLES
All fortune to the good Simonides!

SIMONIDES
To you as much, sir. I am beholding to you [25]
For your sweet music this last night. I do
Protest my ears were never better fed

With such delightful, pleasing harmony.

PERICLES
It is your grace’s pleasure to commend,
Not my desert.

SIMONIDES
Sir, you are music’s master. [30]

PERICLES
The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.

SIMONIDES
Let me ask you one thing. What do you think

Of my daughter, sir?

PERICLES
A most virtuous princess.

SIMONIDES
And she is fair too, is she not?

PERICLES
As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair. [35]

SIMONIDES
Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you;
Ay, so well, that you must be her master,