My lord,
If I can get him within my pistol's length,
I'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness.

ANTIOCHUS.
Thaliard! adieu!

[Exit Thaliard.]

Till
Pericles be dead,
My heart can lend no succour to my head.

[Exit.]


SCENE II. Tyre. A room in the palace.

[Enter Pericles.]

PERICLES. [To Lords without.]
Let none disturb us. -- Why should this change of thoughts,
The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy,
Be my so used a guest as not an hour,
In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,
The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet?
Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them,
And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch,
Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here:
Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits,