Here have you seen a mighty king
His child, iwis, to incest bring;
A better prince and benign lord,
That will prove awful both in deed and word.
Be quiet then as men should be,
Till he hath pass’d necessity.
I’ll show you those in troubles reign,
Losing a mite, a mountain gain.
The good in conversation,
To whom I give my benison,
Is still at Tarsus, where each man
Thinks all is writ he speken can;
And to remember what he does,
Build his statue to make him glorious:
But tidings to the contrary
Are brought your eyes; what need speak I?
Dumb-show. Enter at one door Pericles talking with Cleon; all the
train with them. Enter at another door a Gentleman with a letter to
Pericles; Pericles shows the letter to Cleon; gives the Messenger a
reward, and knights him. Exit Pericles at one door, and Cleon at
another.
Good Helicane, that stay’d at home.
Not to eat honey like a drone
From others’ labours; for though he strive
To killen bad, keep good alive;
And to fulfil his prince’ desire,
Sends word of all that haps in Tyre:
How Thaliard came full bent with sin
And had intent to murder him;
And that in Tarsus was not best
Longer for him to make his rest.
He, doing so, put forth to seas,
Where when men been, there’s seldom ease;
For now the wind begins to blow;
Thunder above and deeps below
Make such unquiet, that the ship
Should house him safe is wreck’d and split;
And he, good prince, having all lost,
By waves from coast to coast is tost:
All perishen of man, of pelf,
Ne aught escapen but himself;
Till Fortune, tired with doing bad,
Threw him ashore, to give him glad:
And here he comes. What shall be next,
Pardon old Gower,—this longs the text.
You have just witnessed a mighty king bring his own child to incest. A better prince, more noble and kind, will prove himself formidable in both action and word. Be patient then, as all men should be, while he endures what necessity demands. I will show you those who reign in trouble, losing small things yet gaining mountains of fortune. The good man in Tarsus, to whom I give my blessing, still remains there, where each inhabitant believes that all the virtue in the world has been written and spoken. To honor his memory, they build him statues to make him glorious. But word comes of a different fate. Why must I describe what your eyes will soon see? (A pantomime follows: Pericles meets with Cleon; a messenger arrives with a letter; Pericles rewards and knights him; they exit separately.) The good Helicanus, who stayed behind—not eating honey like a drone from others' labors—does what he can to kill wickedness and keep goodness alive. To fulfill his prince's wishes, he sends word of all that happens in Tyre: how Thaliard came, fully intent on sin and murder, and how Tarsus was no longer safe for Pericles to stay. Pericles, understanding this danger, put forth to sea. There, where men travel, there is rarely peace. The wind begins to blow, thunder roars above and depths churn below, making such turmoil that the ship—which should keep him safe—is wrecked and split apart. Our good prince, having lost everything, is tossed by waves from coast to coast. All that is human—all his men, all his wealth—perishes; nothing escapes but he himself. Until Fortune, tired of doing evil, threw him ashore to comfort him. And here he comes. What will happen next, forgive old Gower—the text demands it.
You've just seen a great king commit incest with his own daughter. A better ruler, much more decent, will turn out to be terrifying in what he says and does. So hold on while he gets through what has to happen. I'm going to show you people who rule while drowning in their own troubles—losing a little and somehow gaining everything. The good guy still in Tarsus, I bless him, he's the one everyone there thinks is basically perfect. They're building statues of him. But listen, that's not what actually happened. (A scene plays out silently: Pericles meets Cleon; a messenger shows up with a letter; Pericles gives him rewards and makes him a knight; they split up.) Then there's Helicanus, who stayed home—not just living off everyone else's hard work like a lazy bee. He does his job: stops bad things, keeps good things going. To help his prince, he sends messages about everything happening in Tyre. He tells Pericles that Thaliard's coming to kill him, and that Tarsus isn't safe anymore. So Pericles takes a ship. But the ocean is where peace goes to die. Wind blows, thunder crashes, the sea churns so hard the ship gets ripped apart. Everything's lost—all his men, all his stuff. Only Pericles survives. Fortune, sick of being cruel, finally washes him ashore. And that's where we are now. You'll see what happens next—trust me, Gower's got to keep going.
saw a king's darkness. better man rises. wait while he falls. see who rises from ruin. tarsus remembers him. but the sea's different. pericles sails. storm. everything drowns. only he survives. fortune gives him shore. here he is. what happens next?
Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven!
Wind, rain, and thunder, remember earthly man
Is but a substance that must yield to you;
And I, as fits my nature, do obey you:
Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks,
Wash’d me from shore to shore, and left me breath
Nothing to think on but ensuing death:
Let it suffice the greatness of your powers
To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes;
And having thrown him from your watery grave,
Here to have death in peace is all he’ll crave.
You angry stars of heaven, stop your rage! Wind, rain, and thunder, remember that earthly man is only a substance that must yield to you. I, true to my nature, submit to your will. The sea has thrown me upon rocks, washed me from shore to shore, and left me with nothing to think on but the death that comes next. It is enough that your great powers have stripped a prince of all his fortune. You have cast him from your watery grave into this world only to find death here. All I beg is to meet that death with peace.
Okay, you angry sky, that's enough! Wind, rain, lightning—remember that we're just people who have to give way to you. I get it, I submit. The sea threw me on rocks, tossed me up on different shores, left me thinking about nothing except dying. Look, you've already taken everything from me—my ships, my men, my power. That's enough. You threw me from the bottom of the sea to this shore just to let me die here instead? Fine. All I'm asking is to die in peace.
angry sky please stop. we're just dust. i yield to you. sea destroyed me. rocks, waves, nothing. just death left. can i die in peace? that's all i'm asking.
The First Fisherman speaks in earthy, comic prose thick with folk wisdom — he delivers what is essentially a sharp social critique wrapped in fish metaphors. Watch for how quickly he pivots from mockery to genuine warmth.
What, ho, Pilch!
A help, lords! Help!
Help me! Someone help!
help!
The Second Fisherman is sharper and more sardonic than the First — he gets the best dry lines, including the observation that honest men are like unfound dates on a calendar. Watch for his dry puncturing of any pretension.
Ha, come and bring away the nets!
Come on, let's get the nets!
Get over here! Bring those nets!
nets! let's go!
What, Patch-breech, I say!
What, Patch-breech, move!
Come on, get moving!
move!
The Third Fisherman is the most philosophical of the three — his speech about the whale swallowing the whole parish is the scene's peak of social commentary. Watch for how his 'simple' observations cut the deepest.
What say you, master?
Pull aboard there. There's a goodly man aboard! Hold fast—we have him!
Grab him! He's going under—pull him up! We got him!
pull him in! he's alive! get him aboard!
Look how thou stirrest now! Come away, or I’ll fetch thee with a
wanion.
Look at you moving now! Come on, or I'll fetch you with a curse.
There you go! Come on now, or I'll drag you out of there!
move! or i'll grab you!
Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that were cast away before
us even now.
I thank you, friend. How is it with you, friend?
Thank you. Are you okay?
thanks. you ok?
Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what pitiful cries they
made to us to help them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help
ourselves.
Hail, worthy sir. Honest men are rare. I see you're a gentleman of good stock.
Hang in there, sir. You look like quality.
you're a gentleman. i can tell.
Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the porpus how he bounced
and tumbled? They say they’re half fish, half flesh: a plague on them,
they ne’er come but I look to be washed. Master, I marvel how the
fishes live in the sea.
Master, didn't I say exactly this when I saw the porpoise bounce and tumble? They say they're half fish, half flesh—a plague on them! They never come around but I get washed. Master, I wonder how the fishes live in the sea.
Master, didn't I just tell you this when I saw that porpoise jumping around? They're half fish, half flesh—damn things. Whenever they show up, I nearly drown. But seriously, master, how do fish even survive in the sea?
said it already. porpoise was jumping. half fish half flesh. they make me drown. but how do fish live out there?
Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones: I can
compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale; a’ plays and
tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at last devours them all
at a mouthful. Such whales have I heard on o’ the land, who never leave
gaping till they swallowed the whole parish, church, steeple, bells and
all.
I am a man pursued by fortune—fate hunts me from kingdom to kingdom. I lost everything in that wreck. My ship, my men, my gold. Even my armor, which you can see has been worn in many wars, is now at the bottom of the sea. I am nothing now. The sea has taken even that.
I'm cursed. Bad luck follows me everywhere. That storm took everything—my ship, my crew, my money, my armor, everything I had. I've got nothing left.
i'm hunted by fate. the sea took it all. my men, my gold, everything. i'm nothing now.
But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have been that day in
the belfry.
Well, master, if I'd been the sexton, I would have been up in the bell tower that day.
Well if I'd been the church guy, I'd have been up in the belfry instead.
if i were the sexton belfry safest spot
The fishermen in this scene are unusual in Shakespeare's work: commoners who are given the sharpest, most sustained political critique in the play. The whale speech — rich men swallowing whole parishes — is a precise analysis of early capitalist land enclosure that was devastating rural English communities in Shakespeare's lifetime. Powerful landowners were legally absorbing common land, driving peasant families off ground they had farmed for generations. The fisherman's image of the whale swallowing church, steeple, and bells is not just a fish story — it's a description of what was happening in England's countryside. Shakespeare gives this observation to the lowest-status characters in the scene, and has the shipwrecked prince privately admit it's the most accurate moral he's heard: 'a pretty moral' he whispers aside. It's one of the play's stranger, briefer moments of social realism.
Why, man?
Come, my friend. Though your armor is lost, you look like a warrior. There are games and competitions beginning soon. If you prove your worth there, you might win enough to make your fortune again.
Listen, I'm going to be straight with you. You look like you can fight. There's a jousting tournament coming up. If you win, you'll have money and land again. It's your shot.
forget the armor. you've got skill. there's a tournament coming. go win it.
Because he should have swallowed me too; and when I had been in his
belly, I would have kept such a jangling of the bells, that he should
never have left, till he cast bells, steeple, church and parish up
again. But if the good King Simonides were of my mind,—
Because he would have swallowed me too. And when I was in his belly, I would have rung the bells so loudly he'd never have stopped until he coughed up the bells, steeple, church, and the whole parish again. But if the good King Simonides agreed with me—
Because then he'd swallow me too! And I'd be in his stomach ringing those bells so hard he'd throw up the whole church, steeple, bells, and everything! But if King Simonides just listened to me—
he'd swallow me too. i'd ring bells in his belly. bells ringing. everything comes back up. if the king listened to me—
We would purge the land of these drones, that rob the bee of her honey.
I will go. I thank you for this chance, kind sir. Even in my sorrow, your words give me hope.
I'll try. Thank you. You just gave me something to do when everything else is gone.
i'll go. thanks for believing in me. when everything's gone, that means something.
These fishers tell the infirmities of men;
And from their watery empire recollect
All that may men approve or men detect!
Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen.
These fishermen reveal the frailties of men, and from their watery world gather all that men can approve of or despise! Peace be upon your labor, honest fishermen.
You fishermen show us what's wrong with people—and from everything you pull from the water, you can figure out what makes men good or bad. Good luck with your work, honest guys.
fishermen tell human truth. from the water comes wisdom. all we need to know. peace with you.
Honest! good fellow, what’s that? If it be a day fits you, search out
of the calendar, and nobody look after it.
Honest? What is that? If it ever exists, search the calendar for the day it appears, and nobody will remember to look for it after.
Honest? What's that? If it even exists, you'd have to mark it on a calendar, and nobody would remember to check anyway.
honest? show me the day. no one remembers.
May see the sea hath cast upon your coast.
— as you can see, a man the sea has thrown up onto your shore.
As you can see — someone the sea just washed up on your beach.
the sea threw me here onto your shore that's what i am now
What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our way!
What a drunken rogue of a sea, throwing you right into our path!
Some nerve that sea has, tossing you right in front of us!
the sea's a drunk threw you right at us what are the odds
A man whom both the waters and the wind,
In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball
For them to play upon, entreats you pity him;
He asks of you, that never used to beg.
A man whom both water and wind, in that vast tennis court, have made their plaything, begs your pity. He asks you for help—he who never begged before.
I'm a guy that the ocean and wind have turned into a toy—bouncing around like a ball in some giant tennis court. I need your help. And I hate asking for it.
water and wind played with me. ball in a tennis court. needs help. hates begging.
No, friend, cannot you beg? Here’s them in our country of Greece gets
more with begging than we can do with working.
Friend, can't you beg? There are beggars in Greece who get more by begging than we can make by working.
You can't beg? The beggars around here make more from begging than we do from fishing and working all day.
can't beg? beggars here make bank. more than we do working.
Canst thou catch any fishes, then?
Can you catch fish, at least?
So can you fish, or what?
can you fish that's what matters
I never practised it.
I never learned how.
I've never done it.
never.
Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; for here’s nothing to be got
now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for’t.
Then you'll starve for sure. There's nothing to get these days unless you can fish for it.
Then you're done for. There's no food or money around here unless you fish for it.
you're starving then. nothing but fish. fish or die.
What I have been I have forgot to know;
But what I am, want teaches me to think on:
A man throng’d up with cold: my veins are chill,
And have no more of life than may suffice
To give my tongue that heat to ask your help;
Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead,
For that I am a man, pray see me buried.
I've forgotten who I was. But what I am right now, need teaches me to understand: a man covered in cold, my veins are frozen, and I have just enough life left to ask you for help with my voice. If you refuse me, when I'm dead, as I'm a man, I beg you to bury me.
I've forgotten who I used to be. But right now, being desperate teaches me what I am: a freezing guy whose veins are iced over. I've barely got enough strength to ask you to help me. If you say no, at least when I'm dead, bury me because I'm human.
forgot who i was. what am i now? frozen. dying. help me? if not, bury me.
The recovery of the armor is the first demonstration of this play's central structural pattern: Fortune takes, and then Fortune gives back. The same sea that stripped Pericles of his ship, crew, and possessions has preserved the one object most freighted with meaning — his father's armor, a physical embodiment of lineage and identity. This is not coincidence in the play's moral universe; it's the mechanism by which the gods demonstrate their concern. Pericles will lose much more before the end — his wife, his daughter, decades of his life — and each loss will eventually be returned. The armor is the template. Notice that the fishermen can't even explain how the armor got into the net; it just appears. Pericles recognizes it by a private mark no one else could know. Fortune has been keeping it safe.
Die quoth-a? Now gods forbid’t, and I have a gown here; come, put it
on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a handsome fellow! Come, thou shalt
go home, and we’ll have flesh for holidays, fish for fasting-days, and
moreo’er puddings and flap-jacks, and thou shalt be welcome.
Die? Gods forbid it! I have a gown here—come on, put it on, keep warm. By my soul, you're a fine-looking fellow! Come stay with us, and we'll have meat on holidays, fish on fasting days, and besides puddings and pastries, and you'll be welcome.
Die? God, no! I've got a coat here—put this on, stay warm. Listen, you're a good-looking guy! Come live with us. We'll have meat when we can, fish when we have to, and desserts and treats, and you'll be part of the family.
no dying. wear my coat. you're good looking. stay with us. meat, fish, pudding. you belong here.
I thank you, sir.
I thank you, sir.
Thank you.
thanks.
Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg?
Friend, you said you couldn't beg?
Friend, didn't you just say you couldn't beg?
thought you couldn't beg?
I did but crave.
I just asked for it.
I only asked.
just asked.
But crave! Then I’ll turn craver too, and so I shall ’scape whipping.
Just asked! Then I'll become a beggar too, and that way I'll escape being whipped.
Just asked! Well, I'm a beggar now too, so I guess that's how I avoid getting whipped.
just asked? i'm a beggar now. escaped the whip!
Why, are your beggars whipped, then?
Do you whip your beggars then?
So you guys whip beggars?
you whip beggars?
O, not all, my friend, not all; for if all your beggars were whipped, I
would wish no better office than to be beadle. But, master, I’ll go
draw up the net.
Not all of them, friend, not all. If every beggar was whipped, I'd be thrilled to be the whipper. But master, I'll go pull up the nets.
Not all of them, no. If we whipped every beggar, I'd volunteer to be the guy doing it. But come on, master, let's get back to the nets.
not all. i'd whip them all. but nets wait. let's go.
Hark you, sir, do you know where ye are?
Listen, do you know where you are?
Hey, do you know where you are?
where are you?
Not well.
No.
No.
no.
Why, I’ll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and our King, the good
Simonides.
I'll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and our King is the good Simonides.
This place is Pentapolis, and our king is the good Simonides.
pentapolis. king simonides. he's good.
The good Simonides, do you call him?
The good Simonides—that's what you call him?
You call him the good Simonides?
the good simonides?
Ay, sir; and he deserves so to be called for his peaceable reign and
good government.
Yes, sir. He deserves to be called that for his peaceful reign and good government.
Yeah, he's earned it. The guy rules with peace and fairness.
yeah. he earned it. peaceful. just.
He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects the name of good
government. How far is his court distant from this shore?
He's a fortunate king, winning such a name from his own people. How far is his court from this shore?
He's lucky then—his own people call him good. How far away is his court?
lucky king. his people love him. how far away?
There is something theatrically radical about watching a prince beg fishermen for help. Pericles doesn't pull rank, doesn't announce his identity, doesn't demand assistance. He presents himself as simply 'a man,' asks for burial rights if nothing else can be given, and then quietly asks for the coat. This stripping away of status — the great adventure protagonist reduced to dripping wretch on a beach — is one of the play's sustained concerns. What is a prince without his principality? What is a man without his wealth? The fishermen's pointed observations about honest men being unfindable in the calendar, and about craving versus begging, force Pericles to negotiate with reality at street level. He doesn't just survive the scene; he learns something from it. 'These fishermen tell the infirmities of men' is one of the play's few moments where the hero directly acknowledges what he's learned.
Marry sir, half a day’s journey: and I’ll tell you, he hath a fair
daughter, and tomorrow is her birth-day; and there are princes and
knights come from all parts of the world to joust and tourney for her
love.
About half a day's journey. I'll tell you, he has a beautiful daughter, and tomorrow is her birthday. Princes and knights from everywhere are coming to compete in jousting and tournaments for her hand.
About a half day walk. And get this—he's got a beautiful daughter, and tomorrow's her birthday. Princes and knights from everywhere are showing up to joust and compete for her.
half day walk. beautiful daughter. birthday tomorrow. prince and knights coming. to fight for her.
Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish to make one there.
If my fortune were as good as my desires, I would want to be there for that.
I wish I could be there. If I had the means, I'd go.
wish i could go. if i had the stuff.
O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man cannot get, he may
lawfully deal for—his wife’s soul.
Sir, things work out how they can. What a man can't get on his own, he can honorably win through other means—his wife's dowry, for instance.
Well, things happen like they happen. If you can't afford something, you can always marry into it—get the girl's money.
things happen. can't get it? marry into it. her dowry's yours.
Help, master, help! here’s a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man’s
right in the law; ’twill hardly come out. Ha! bots on’t, ’tis come at
last, and ’tis turned to a rusty armour.
Help, master! There's something caught in the net like a poor man's legal claim—it never comes out! Wait, it's loose now. It's turned into a rusty suit of armor!
Help! There's something stuck in the net like a poor man fighting the law—it won't come out! Wait—okay, it's loose. It's an old suit of armor!
help! stuck in net. like a law case. final won't go! wait—armor. old armor.
An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it.
Thanks, Fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses,
Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself,
And though it was mine own, part of my heritage,
Which my dead father did bequeath to me,
With this strict charge, even as he left his life.
‘Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield
’Twixt me and death;’—and pointed to this brace;—
‘For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity—
The which the gods protect thee from!—may defend thee.’
It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it;
Till the rough seas, that spares not any man,
Took it in rage, though calm’d have given’t again:
I thank thee for’t: my shipwreck now’s no ill,
Since I have here my father gave in his will.
Armor, friends! Let me see it, I beg you. Thank you, Fortune, that after all my losses, you give me something to rebuild myself. And though it's mine—part of my inheritance—my dead father gave it to me with this command: 'Keep it, my Pericles; it has been a shield between me and death'—he pointed to this arm piece—'Because it saved me, keep it. In time of need like this—which the gods protect you from!—it may defend you.' I kept it as carefully as I kept myself, loving it dearly. The rough sea, which spares no man, took it from me in anger, though if it had been calm, it would have given it back. I thank it for coming back to me. My shipwreck is no longer a disaster, since I have here what my father left me in his will.
Armor! Let me see it, please. Thank god, Fortune. After losing everything, you're giving me something back—something that lets me start over. It's mine anyway—it belonged to my father. He gave it to me and said, 'Keep this, Pericles. It stopped death from getting me.' He pointed to this part and said, 'It saved my life. Keep it. If you ever need it this badly, it'll save you too.' I loved that armor as much as I loved breathing. The ocean stole it from me—the ocean doesn't care about anyone. But now it's back. My whole ship sank, but this came back to me. I'm going to be okay because I've got what my father left me.
armor! from the sea. my father's gift. shield between life and death. i kept it close. the sea took it. the sea gave it back. no longer lost. father's will found me.
What mean you sir?
What do you mean, sir?
What do you mean?
what?
To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth,
For it was sometime target to a king;
I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly,
And for his sake I wish the having of it;
And that you’d guide me to your sovereign court,
Where with it I may appear a gentleman;
And if that ever my low fortune’s better,
I’ll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor.
To ask you, kind friends, for this valuable armor. It once belonged to a king as his weapon. I know it by this mark. He loved me deeply, and for his sake I want to have it. Will you guide me to your king's court? With it, I can appear a gentleman. And if my fortune ever improves, I'll repay your kindness. Until then, you can count me as your debtor.
I want to beg this armor from you, friends. It used to be a king's shield—my father's shield, actually. I know it because of this mark. He loved me and I want it because it was his. Can you get me to the king's court? I can look like a gentleman with this. If I ever get money, I'll pay you back. Until then, I owe you everything.
this armor. king's shield. my father's. i know it. get me to court? i'll look like someone. i'll pay you back. i promise.
Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady?
So you'll compete in the tournament for the lady?
You're going to compete for her? In the tournament?
competing? for the lady?
I’ll show the virtue I have borne in arms.
I'll show what skill I have from all my years in battle.
I'll show them what I can do. I've fought before.
i'll show them. i can fight.
Why, d’ye take it, and the gods give thee good on’t!
Then take it, and may the gods bless you!
Take it! May the gods help you!
take it! gods bless you!
Ay, but hark you, my friend; ’twas we that made up this garment through
the rough seams of the waters: there are certain condolements, certain
vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you’ll remember from whence you had
them.
Yes, but listen, friend. We're the ones who pulled this armor through the sea—made it up from the rough waves, so to speak. So we ask for something in return, some thanks. I hope, sir, if you succeed, you'll remember where you got it from.
But hey, remember—we're the ones who pulled that armor out of the sea for you. We salvaged it. So if things work out for you, don't forget us, okay? Come back and help us out.
we pulled it from sea. rough waves. we made this work. remember us? if you win? come back.
Believe’t I will.
By your furtherance I am clothed in steel;
And spite of all the rapture of the sea,
This jewel holds his building on my arm:
Unto thy value I will mount myself
Upon a courser, whose delightful steps
Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread.
Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided
Of a pair of bases.
You have my word. With your help, I'm clothed in steel. And despite all the ocean tried to destroy, this jewel holds firm on my arm. By your aid, I'll mount myself on a beautiful horse whose steps will make any watcher happy to see him move. My only thing—friend, I still need one more thing.
I promise I will. You've dressed me in armor. And no matter what the sea did, this thing is still on my arm. With your help, I'll get on a beautiful horse—watching him move will make people smile. There's just one more thing I need, friend.
i will remember. you dressed me in steel. sea couldn't break it. armor holds me. i'll ride high. beautiful steps. one more thing...
We’ll sure provide: thou shalt have my best gown to make thee a pair;
and I’ll bring thee to the court myself.
We'll get you those. You can have my best gown to make leg armor from, and I'll take you to the court myself.
We'll set you up. You can have my best robe to make leg armor from, and I'll bring you to the court myself.
we got you. my robe. leg armor. i'll take you there.
Then honour be but a goal to my will,
This day I’ll rise, or else add ill to ill.
Then let honor be my only goal now. Today I'll rise, or else I'll add more suffering to all my suffering.
Then that's it—honor is all I want now. Today I'll make something of myself, or I'll die trying.
honor's all i want. today i rise. or i'm dead.
The Reckoning
This is the play's most disarming scene. A prince who has lost everything — ship, men, possessions — is washed up on a foreign shore and has to beg for a coat. The fishermen who help him are sharp, funny, and more politically astute than their station suggests. And then the sea, which has taken everything, gives back one extraordinary thing: his father's armor, which opens a new door entirely. The audience feels the vertigo of fortune: rock bottom and miraculous gift in the same five minutes.
If this happened today…
A tech exec, fleeing corporate scandal, survives a plane crash in rural Newfoundland. He's in his underwear, hypothermic, and being questioned by skeptical fishermen who aren't that impressed by his credentials. One of them makes a sharp speech about how big fish eat little fish, which he privately admits is the most accurate description of his industry he's ever heard. Then they pull what turns out to be his grandfather's vintage Rolex out of their net. Suddenly he has a plan.