Page 243 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

More like a god than you. Will you deliver
How this dead queen re-lives?

CERIMON
I will, my lord.
Beseech you first, go with me to my house, [65]
Where shall be shown you all was found with her,

How she came placed here in the temple;
No needful thing omitted.

PERICLES
Pure Dian,
I bless thee for thy vision, and

Will offer night-oblations to thee. Thaisa, [70]
This prince, the fair betrothèd of your daughter,
Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now,
This ornament,

Makes me look dismal, will I clip to form,
And what this fourteen years no razor touched, [75]
To grace thy marriage-day, I’ll beautify.

THAISA
Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, sir,

My father’s dead.

PERICLES

Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen,
We’ll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves [80]
Will in that kingdom spend our following days.
Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign.

Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay
To hear the rest untold. Sir, lead’s the way.
Exeunt.