Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare
immediate steps to restore her. Then a great wonder happened, for she,
who had been thrown into the sea as dead, came back to life. But feeling
sure that she would never see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the
world, and became a priestess of the Goddess Diana.
While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with his
little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been born at
sea. Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the Governor of Tarsus,
the King sailed for his own dominions.
Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and
wicked woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more
accomplished and charming girl than her own daughter, she determined to
take Marina's life. So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza ordered one of
her servants to take her away and kill her. This villain would have done
so, but that he was interrupted by some pirates who came in and carried
Marina off to sea with them, and took her to Mitylene, where they sold
her as a slave. Yet such was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty,
that she soon became honored there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor,
fell deep in love with her, and would have married her, but that he
thought she must be of too humble parentage to become the wife of one in
his high position.
The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina was
really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and showed it
to King Pericles, when after long years of absence he came to see
his much-loved child. When he heard that she was dead, his grief was
terrible to see. He set sail once more, and putting on sackcloth, vowed
never to wash his face or cut his hair again. There was a pavilion
erected on deck, and there he lay alone, and for three months he spoke
word to none.
At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, and
Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the vessel
came. When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and silence, he
bethought him of Marina, and believing that she could rouse the King
from his stupor, sent for her and bade her try her utmost to persuade
the King to speak, promising whatever reward she would, if she
succeeded. Marina gladly obeyed, and sending the rest away, she sat and
sang to her poor grief-laden father, yet, sweet as was her voice, he
made no sign. So presently she spoke to him, saying that her grief might
equal his, for, though she was a slave, she came from ancestors that
stood equal to mighty kings.
Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he looked
up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like she was to his
lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in his heart, he bade her
tell her story.
Then, with many interruptions from the King, she told him who she was
and how she had escaped from the cruel Dionyza. So Pericles knew that
this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed her again and again, crying
that his great seas of joy drowned him with their sweetness. “Give me my
robes,” he said: “O Heaven, bless my girl!”
Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound of
heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, in a
vision.
“Go,” she said to him, “to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden
priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife.”
Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. Hardly
had he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, “You are--you
are--O royal Pericles!” fell fainting to the ground, and presently
recovering, she spoke again to him, “O my lord, are you not Pericles?”
“The voice of dead Thaisa!” exclaimed the King in wonder. “That Thaisa
am I,” she said, and looking at her he saw that she spoke the very
truth.
Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found
happiness once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot the
pain of the past. To Marina great happiness was given, and not only
in being restored to her dear parents; for she married Lysimachus, and
became a princess in the land where she had been sold as a slave.
HAMLET
Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father and
mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named Ophelia.
Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain.
While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. Young
Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent had stung
the King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had loved his father so
tenderly that you may judge what he felt when he found that the Queen,
before yet the King had been laid in the ground a month, had determined
to marry again--and to marry the dead King's brother.
Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding.
“It is not only the black I wear on my body,” he said, “that proves my
loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His son at least
remembers him, and grieves still.”
Then said Claudius the King's brother, “This grief is unreasonable. Of
course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--”
“Ah,” said Hamlet, bitterly, “I cannot in one little month forget those
I love.”
With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their
wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to them
both.
And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what he
ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the snake-bite.
It seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius had killed the
King, so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. Yet he had no proof,
and could not accuse Claudius.
And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of his,
from Wittenberg.
“What brought you here?” asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his friend
kindly.
“I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral.”
“I think it was to see my mother's wedding,” said Hamlet, bitterly. “My
father! We shall not look upon his like again.”
“My lord,” answered Horatio, “I think I saw him yesternight.”
Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, Horatio told how he, with two
gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's ghost on the battlements.
Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at midnight, the ghost of the
King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, appeared on the battlements
in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was a brave youth. Instead of running
away from the ghost he spoke to it--and when it beckoned him he followed
it to a quiet place, and there the ghost told him that what he had
suspected was true. The wicked Claudius had indeed killed his good
brother the King, by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in his
orchard in the afternoon.
“And you,” said the ghost, “must avenge this cruel murder-- on my wicked
brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have loved her, and
she is your mother. Remember me.”
Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished.
“Now,” said Hamlet, “there is nothing left but revenge. Remember thee--I
will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let all go--and your
commands alone live on my brain.”
So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret of
the ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with mingled
dawn and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his murdered
father.
The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel almost
mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was not himself,
he determined to hide his mad longing for revenge under a pretended
madness in other matters.
And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given gifts,
and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly to her, that
she could not but think him mad. For she loved him so that she could not
believe he would be as cruel as this, unless he were quite mad. So she
told her father, and showed him a pretty letter from Hamlet. And in the
letter was much folly, and this pretty verse--
“Doubt that the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.”
And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's supposed
madness was love.
Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's ghost--and
yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another man, even his
father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, after all, the
ghost spoke truly.
Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered them
to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, this play
was the story of a man who had been murdered in his garden by a near
relation, who afterwards married the dead man's wife.
You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his
throne, with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and saw,
acted on the stage, the very wickedness that he had himself done. And
when, in the play, the wicked relation poured poison into the ear of the
sleeping man, the wicked Claudius suddenly rose, and staggered from the
room--the Queen and others following.
Then said Hamlet to his friends--
“Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done this
murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a play.”
Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him
for his conduct during the play, and for other matters; and Claudius,
wishing to know exactly what happened, told old Polonius to hide himself
behind the hangings in the Queen's room. And as they talked, the Queen
got frightened at Hamlet's rough, strange words, and cried for help, and
Polonius behind the curtain cried out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the
King who was hidden there, thrust with his sword at the hangings, and
killed, not the King, but poor old Polonius.
So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad hap
killed his true love's father.
“Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is this,” cried the Queen.
And Hamlet answered bitterly, “Almost as bad as to kill a king, and
marry his brother.” Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all his thoughts
and how he knew of the murder, and begged her, at least, to have no more
friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, who had killed the good
King. And as they spoke the King's ghost again appeared before Hamlet,
but the Queen could not see it. So when the ghost had gone, they parted.
When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was dead,
he said, “This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since he has killed
the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we must carry out our
plan, and send him away to England.”
So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the King,
and these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that Hamlet
should be put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to get at these
letters, and put in others instead, with the names of the two courtiers
who were so ready to betray him. Then, as the vessel went to England,
Hamlet escaped on board a pirate ship, and the two wicked courtiers left
him to his fate, and went on to meet theirs.
Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had happened.
Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her father, lost her wits
too, and went in sad madness about the Court, with straws, and weeds,
and flowers in her hair, singing strange scraps of songs, and talking
poor, foolish, pretty talk with no heart of meaning to it. And one
day, coming to a stream where willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery
garland on a willow, and fell into the water with all her flowers, and
so died.
And Hamlet had loved her, though his plan of seeming madness had made