Gower's epischem Lehrgedichte, das nach der Ansicht seines neusten unc besten Herausgebers, Reinhold Pauli, vor dem Jahre 1392 vollendet gewesen sein muss, und das zuerst 1483 im Druck erschien, hat der Verfasser des Pericles auch eine Novelle von Lawrence Twine benutzt, die, aus dem bekannten Sammelwerke der Gesta Romanorum geschöpft, im Jahre 1576 erschien unter dem Titel: The Patterne of paine full Adventures: Containing the most excellent, pleasant and variable Historie of the strange accidents that befell unto Prince Apollonius, the Lady Lucina his wife and Tharsia his Daughter etc. Diese Novelle hat Wilkins theilweise wörtlich neben dem Drama für seine eigene Novelle benutzt. Dass dem Verfasser des Pericles beide Bearbeitungen, sowohl die von Gower wie die von Twine, vorgelegen haben, ergiebt sich nicht nur aus den Einzelnheiten, welche bald der einen Quelle, bald der andern entlehnt sind, sondern auch aus den Namen, in welchen er theils mit Gower, theils mit Twine übereinstimmt, häufiger aber allein steht. Wir geben aus Beiden hier einige Proben. Zunächst aus Gower, was der Rettung der Thaisa (A. 3, Sc. 2 und 4) entspricht:
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But now to my matere ayein,
To telle as olde bokes sain,
This dede corps, of whiche ye knowe,
With winde and water was forth throwe,
Now here, now there, till ate last
At Ephesim the see upcast
The coffre and all that was therinne.
of great merveile now beginne
May here, who that sitteth still.
That god woll save may nought spill.
Right as the corps was throwe a londe,
There cam walkend upon the stronde
A worthy clerke and surgien
And eke a great phisicien,
Of all that lond the wisest one,
Which highte maister Cerimon.
There were of his disciples some.
This maister is to the coffre come,
He peiseth there was somwhat in
And bad hem bere it to his inne,
And goth him selve forth with all.
All that shall falle, falle shall.
They comen home and tarie nought.
This coffre into his chambre is brought,
Which that they finde faste stoke,
But they with craft it have unloke.
They loken in, where as they founde,
A body dede, which was iwounde
In cloth of gold, as I said ere.
The tresor eke they founden there
Forth with the letter, which they rede.
And tho they token better hede.
Unsowed was the body sone.
As he that knewe, what was to done,
This noble clerk with alle haste
Began the veines for to taste,
And sigh her age was of youthe.
And with the craftes, which he couthe,
He sought and found a signe of life.
With that this worthy kinges wife
Honestely they token out
And maden fires all about.
They laid her on a couche softe,
And with a shete warmed ofte
Her colde brest began to hete,
Her herte also to flacke and bete,
This maister hath her every jointe
With certain oil and balsme anointe,
And put a liquour in her mouthe,
Which is to fewe clerkes couthe,
So that she covereth ate laste.
And first her eyen up she caste,
And whan she more of strengthe caught,
Her armes bothe forth she straught,
Held up her hond and pitously
She spake and saide: Where am I?
Where is my lord, what world is this?
As she, that wot nought how it is.
But Cerimon that worthy leche
Answerde anone upon her speche
And said: Madame, ye ben here,
Where ye be sauf, as ye shall here
Here afterward, forthy as now
My counseil is, comforteth you.
For tristeth wel withoute faile,
There is no thing, which shall you faile,
That ought of reson to be do.
Thus passen they a day or two.
They speke of nought as for an ende,
Till she began somdele amende,
And wist her selven, what she mente.
Tho for to knowe her hole entente
This maister axeth all the cas,
How she cam there, and what she was.
How I came here, wote I nought,
Quod she, but wel I am bethought
Of other thinges all about
Fro point to point, and tolde him out
Als ferforthly as she it wiste.
And he her tolde, how in a kiste
The see her threwe upon the londe,
And what tresor with her he fonde,
Which was all redy at her will,
As he, that shope him to fulfill
With al his might, what thing he shuld.
She thonketh him, that he so wolde,
And all her herte she discloseth
And saith him well that she supposeth,
Her lord be dreint, her childe also.
So sigh she nought but alle wo.
Wherof as to the world no more
Ne woll she torne and praieth therfore,
That in some temple of the citee
To kepe and holde her chastete
She might among the women dwelle.
Whan he this tale herde telle,
He was right glad and made her knowen,
That he a doughter of his owen
Hath, which he woll unto her yive
To serve, while they bothe live
In stede of that, which she hath loste,
All only at his owne coste,
She shall be rendred forth with her.
She saith: Graunt mercy, leve sir,
God quite it you, there I ne may.
And thus they drive forth the day,
Till time cam, that she was hole.
And tho they take her counseil hole
To shape upon good ordenaunce
And made a worthy purveaunce
Ayein the day, whan they be veiled.
And thus whan that they were counseiled,
In blacke clothes they hem cloth
This lady and the doughter both
And yolde hem to religion.
The feste and the profession
After the reule of that degre
Was made with great solempnite,
Where as Diane is sanctified.
Thus stant this lady justified,
In ordre where she thenketh to dwelle.
Ferner das Wiedersehen des Pericles und seiner Tochter (A. 5, Sc. 1):
And thus to-fore the wind they drive
Till longe and late they arrive
With great distresse, as it was sene,
Upon this town of Mitelene,
Which was a noble cite tho.
And happneth thilke time so,
The lordes both and the commune
The highe festes of Neptune
Upon the strond at the rivage,
As it was custume and usage,
Solempneliche they besigh.
Whan they this straunge vessel sigh
Come in and hath his saile avaled,
The town therof hath spoke and taled.
The lord, which of that cite was,
Whose name is Athenagoras,
Was there and said, he wolde se,
What ship it is, and who they be,
That ben therin. And after sone,
Whan that he sigh it was to done,
His barge was for him arraied,
And he goth forth and hath assaied.
He found the ship of great array.
But what thing it amounte may,
He sigh they maden hevy chere,
But well him thenketh by the manere,
That they be worthy men of blood,
And axeth of hem, how it stood,
And they him tellen all the cas,
How that her lord fordrive was,
And what a sorwe that he made,
Of which there may no man him glade.
He praieth that he her lord may se.
But they him tolde it may nought be,
For he lith in so derke a place,
That there may no wight sen his face.
But for all that though hem be loth,
He found the ladder and down he goth
And to him spake, but none answer
Ayein of him ne might he bere,
For ought that he can do or sain.
And thus he goth him up ayein.
Tho was there spoke in many wise
Amonges hem, that weren wise,
Now this, now that, but ate last
The wisdom of the town thus cast,
That yonge Thaise were assent.
For if there be amendement
To gladde with this wofull king,
She can so moch of every thing,
That she shall gladen him anone.
A messager for her is gone.
And she came with her harp on honde
And saide hem, that she wolde fonde
By alle weies, that she can,
To gladde with this sory man.
But what he was, she wiste nought.
But all the ship her hath besought,
That she her wit on him despende,
In aunter if he might amende,
And sain: It shall be well aquite.
Whan she hath understonden it,
She goth her down, there as he lay,
Where that she harpeth many a lay
And lich an aungel sang with alle.
But he no more than the walle
Toke hede of any thing he herde.
And whan she sigh, that he so ferde,
She falleth with him unto wordes
And telleth him of sondry bordes
And axeth him demaundes straunge,
Wherof she made his herte chaunge,
And to her speche his ere he laide
And hath merveile, of that she saide.
For in proverbe and in probleme
She spake and bad, he shulde deme
In many a subtil question.
But he for no suggestion,
Which toward him she couthe stere,
He wolde nought o word answere,
But as a mad man ate laste,
His heved weping awey he caste
And half in wrath he bad her go.
But yet she wolde nought do so,
And in the derke forth she goth,
Till she him toucheth and he wroth
And after here with his honde
He smote. And thus whan she him fonde
Disesed, courteisly she saide:.
Avoy my lorde, I am a maide.
And if ye wiste what I am,
And out of what lignage I cam,
Ye wolde nought be so salvage.
With that he sobreth his corage
And put awey his hevy chere.
But of hem two a man may lere,
What is to be so sibbe of blood.
None wist of other how it stood,
And yet the fader ate last
His herte upon this maide cast,
That he her loveth kindely.
And yet he wiste never why,
But all was knowe er that they went.
For god, which wote her hole entent,
Her hertes both anone descloseth.
This king unto this maide opposeth
And axeth first, what is her name,
And where she lerned all this game,
And of what ken that she was come.
And she, that hath his wordes nome,
Answereth and saith: My name is Thaise,
That was sometime well at ese.
In Tharse I was forthdrawe and fedde,
There lerned I, till I was spedde
Of that I can. My fader eke
I not, where that I shulde him seke
He was a king, men tolde me.
My moder dreint was in the see.
Fro point to point all she him tolde,
That she hath longe in herte holde,
And never durste make her mone,
But only to this lord allone,
To whom her herte can nought hele,
Torne it to wo, torne it to wele,
Torne it to good, torne it to harme.
And he tho toke her in his arme.
But such a joy as he tho made
Was never sene, thus be they glade,
That sory haden be to-forne.
Fro this day forth fortune hath sworne
To set him upward on the whele.
So goth the world, now wo, now wele.
now
This king hath founde newe grace,
So that out of his derke place
He goth him up into the light.
And with him cam that swete wight
His doughter Thaise, and forth anone
They bothe into the caban gone,
Which was ordeined for the kinge.
And there he did of all his thinge
And was arraied really,
And out he cam all openly,
Where Athenagoras he fonde,
The which was lorde of all the londe.
He praieth the king to come and se
His castell bothe and his citee.
And thus they gone forth all in fere,
This king, this lord, this maiden dere.
This lord tho made hem riche feste
With every thing, which was honeste,
To plese with this worthy kinge.
Ther lacketh hem no maner thinge.
But yet for al his noble array
Wifeles he was unto that day,
As he, that yet was of yonge age..
So fell there into his corage
The lusty wo, the gladde peine
Of love, which no man restreigne
Yet never might as now to-fore.
This lord thenketh all his world forlore,
But if the king woll done him grace.
He waiteth time, he waiteth place,
Him thought his herte woll to-breke,
Till he may to this maide speke
And to her fader eke also
For mariage. And it fell so,
That all was do, right as he thought,
His purpos to an ende he brought,
She wedded him as for her lorde,
Thus be they all of one accorde.
Dem entspricht zum Theil das 17. Capitel der Novelle von Lawrence Twine:
How Athanagoras sent for Tharsia to make her father Apollonius merry; and how, after long circumstance, they came
into knowledge one of another.
And as he was devising with himselfe, it came into his mind to send for the maiden Tharsia, for which purpose he called unto him one of his men, and saide unto him: Go unto the baud; desire him to send Tharsia hither unto me, for she hath wisdom, and can move pleasant talke, and perhaps she may perswade him not to die thus wilfully. The messenger went speedily, and returned immediatly, bringing the maiden Tharsia with him unto the ship. Whom when Athanagoras beheld, Come hither unto me Tharsia, quoth he, and shew now the uttermost of thy cunning and knowledge, in comforting the owner of the ship, which lieth in darknes and will receive no comfort, nor come abroad into the light, for the great sorrow that he taketh for his wife and his daughter. Goe unto him, good Tharsia, and prove if thou canst persuade him to come into the light; for it may be that God hath appointed by thy meanes to bring him from sorrowe into gladnesse. Which thing if thou canst bring to passe, as I am a gentleman, I will give thee thirtie sestercies of gold, and as many of silver, and I will redeeme thee from the bawd for thirtie dayes. When Tharsia heard this, she went boldly downe into the cabin unto him, and with a milde voice saluted him, saying, God save you, sir, whosoever you be, and be of good comfort, for an innocent virgin, whose life hath been distressed by shipwracke, and her chastitie by dishonestie, and yet hath both preserved, saluteth thee. Then
began she to record in verses, and therewithall to sing so sweetly, that Apollonius, notwithstanding his great sorrow, wondred at her. And these were the verses which she soong so pleasantly unto the instrument:
Amongst the harlots foule I walke,
yet harlot none am I:
The rose amongst the thorns grows, and is not hurt thereby.
The thiefe that stole me, sure I thinke, is slaine before this time:
A bawd me bought, yet am I not defilde by fleshly crime.
Were nothing pleasanter to me, than parents mine to know: I am the issue of a king,
my bloud from kings doth flow.
I hope that God will mend my state,
and send a better day.
Leave off your teares, plucke up your heart,
and banish care a way.
Shew gladnesse in your countenance,
cast up your cheerfull eyes:
That God remaines that once of nought
created earth and skies.
He will not let in care and thought
you still to live, and all for nought.
When Apollonius heard her sing these verses, lifting up his eyes and sighing, he said: Alas, poore wretch as I am! how long shall I strive with life, and abide this greevous conflict? Good maiden, I give hearty thanks both to your wisedome and nobilitie, requiting you with this one thing, that whensoever, if ever such occasion doe chance, I shall have desire to be merrie, I will then thinke on you, or if ever I be restored unto my kingdome. And perhaps, as you say, you are descended of the race of kings, and indeed you doe well represent the nobilitie of your parentage. But nowe, I pray you, receive this reward at my handes, an hundred peeces of golde, and depart from me and trouble me no longer; for my present griefe is renued by your lamentable recitall, and I consume with continuall sorrowe. When the maid had received the reward, she was about to depart. Then spake Athanagoras: Whither goest thou, Tharsia, quoth hee? hast thou taken paine without profite, and canst thou not worke a deed of charitie, and relieve the man that wil consume his life with mourning? Tharsia answered: I have done all that I may, and he hath given me an hundred peeces of gold, and desired me to depart. I wil give thee two hundred, said Athanagoras, and goe downe unto him againe, aud give him his money, and say unto him, I seeke thy health and not thy money. Then went Tharsia downe againe, and set her selfe downe by him, and saide unto him: Sir, if you bee determined to continue alwaies in this heavinesse, give mee leave, I pray you, to reason a little with you. And I meane to propose certaine parables unto you, which if you can resolve, I will then depart, and restore your money. But Apollonius, not willing to receive the money againe, but thankefully to accept whatsoever shee should utter, without discouraging of her, Albeit in my troubles, quoth he, I have none other felicitie but to weepe and lament, yet because I will not want the ornamentes of your wisdome, demaund of me whatsoever shall be your pleasure, and while I am aunswering you, pardon me, I pray you, if sometime I give libertie unto my teares, and shall not be able to speake for sobbing. Sir, I wil beare with you somewhat in that respect said Tharsia, and nowe if it please you I will begin:
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