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Is made with all due diligence,

That horse, and sail, and high expense,
Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre
(Fame answering the most strong inquire,)
To the court of king Simonides
Are letters brought, the tenour these:
Antiochus and his daughter's dead;
The men of Tyrus, on the head
Of Helicanus would set on

The crown of Tyre, but he will none:
The mutiny there he hastes t'appease;
Says to them, if king Pericles
Come not, in twice six moous, home,
He, obedient to their doom,

Will take the crown. The sum of this,
Brought hither to Pentapolis,
Y-ravished the regions round,
And every one with claps, 'gan sound,
Our heir apparent is a king;

Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?
Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:
His queen with child makes her desire
Which who shall cross?) along to go;
Omit we all their dole and woe ;)
Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,
And so to sea. Their vessel shakes
On Neptune's billow; half the flood
Hath their keel cut; but fortune's mood
Varies again; the grizzled north
Disgorges such a tempest forth,
That, as a duck for life that dives,
So up and down the poor ship drives,
The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near!
Doth fall in travail with her fear:
And what ensues in this fell storm,
Shall, for itself, itself perform.
I nill relate, action may
Conveniently the rest convey:

Which might not what by me is told,

In your imagination hold

This stage, the ship, upon whose deck
The sea-tost prince appears to speak.



Enter PERICLES, on a ship at sea. Per. Thon God of this great vast, rebuke these surges, [hast Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, Having call'd them from the deep! O, still thy deaf'ning,

Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble,
Sulphureous flashes!-O how, Lychorida,
How does my queen?-Thou storm, thou, veno-

Wilt thou spit all thyself?-The seaman's whistle
Is as a whisper in the ears of death,
Unheard.-Lychorida!-Lucina, O
Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle
To those that cry by night, convey thy deity
Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs
Of my queen's travails!-Now, Lychorida—
Enter LYCHORIDA, with an infant.

Lyc. Here is a thing

Too young for such a place, who, if it had
Conceit, would die as I am like to do.

Take in your arms this piece of
Per. How! how, Lychorida!

your dead queen.

Lyc. Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm. Here's all that is left living of your queen,A little daughter; for the sake of it,

Be manly, and take comfort.


O you gods! Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, And snatch them straight away? We, here below, Recall not what we give, and therein may Vie honour with yourselves.


Patience, good sir,

Even for this charge.

Now, mild may be thy


For a more blust'rous birth had never babe:
Quiet and gentle thy conditions!

For thou'rt the rudeliest welcom'd to this world,
That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows!
Thou hast as chiding a nativity,

As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
To herald thee from the womb: even at the first,
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,
With all thou canst find here.-Now the good gods
Throw their best eyes upon it!

Enter two Sailors.

1 Sail. What courage, sir? God save you. Per. Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw; It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer, I would, it would be quiet.

1 Sail. Slack the bolins there; thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow and split thyself.

2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.

1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard; the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.

Per. That's your superstition.

1 Sail. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it still hath been observed; and we are strong in earnest. Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.


Per. Be it as you think meet.-Most wretched Lyc. Here she lies, sir.

Per. A terrible child-bed hast thon had, my
No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements
Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time

To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;
Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
And aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale,
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells. Lychorida,

Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
Bring me the sattin coffer: lay the babe
Upon the pillow; hie thee, whiles I say
A priestly farewell to her : suddenly, woman.
[Exit Lychorida.

2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulk'd and bitumed ready.


Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is 2 Sail. We are near Tharsus. Per. Thither, gentle mariner,


Alter thy course for Tyre. When can'st thou reach
2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease.
Per. O make for Tharsus.

There will I visit Cleon, for the babe
Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it
At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner;
I'll bring the body presently.


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That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;

And I can speak of the disturbances

For look, how fresh she looks!-They were too


That threw her in the sea. Make fire within;
Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet.
Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The overpressed spirits. I have heard
Of an Egyptian, had nine hours lien dead,
By good appliance was recovered.

Enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.
Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.-
The rough and woful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, 'beseech you.
The vial once more; - How thou stirr'st, thou
The music there.-I pray you, give her air:-

This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth Breathes out of her; she hath not been entranc'd Above five hours. See, how she 'gins to blow Into life's flower again!

1 Gent.

The heavens, sir,

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Her eye-lids, cases to those heavenly jewels Which Pericles hath lost,

Begin to part their fringes of bright gold; The diamonds of a most praised water

That nature works, and of her cures; which give me Appear, to make the world twice rich. O live,

A more content in course of true delight
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,
To please the fool and death.


2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd Your charity, and hundreds calls themselves Your creatures, who by you have been restor❜d: And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even Your purse, still open, hath built lord Cerimon Such strong renown as time shall never

Enter two Servants, with a chest.

Serv. So; lift there.



What is that?

Sir, even now

Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest; "Tis of some wreck.

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And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, Rare as you seem to be. (She moves.) Thai. O dear Diana, Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is 2 Gent. Is not this strange? 1 Gent. Most rare.

[this? Cer. Hush, gentle neighbours; Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her. Get linen; now this matter must be look'd to, For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come; And Esculapius guide us!

[Exeunt, carrying Thaisa away. SCENE. III.-Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's 'House. Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, LYCHORIDA, and MARINA.

Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus stands In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods Make up the rest upon you!

Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,

Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.


O your sweet queen! That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her hither,

To have bless'd mine eyes!


We cannot but obey The powers above us. Could I rage and roar As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end Must be as 'tis. My babe Marina (whom For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so,) here I charge your charity withal, and leave her The infant of your care; beseeching you To give her princely training, that she may be Manner'd as she is born.


Fear not, my lord: Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, (For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,) Must in your child be thought on. If neglection Should therein make me vile, the common body, By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty: But if to that my nature need a spur, The gods revenge it upon me and mine, To the end of generation!


I believe you ; Your honour and your goodness teach me credit, Without your vows. Till she be married, madam, By bright Diana, whom we honour all Unscissor'd shall this hair of mine remain,

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SCENE IV.-Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House.


Cer. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,
Lay with you in your coffer: which are now
At your command. Know you the character?
Thai. It is my lord's.

That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,
Even on my yearning time; but whether there
Delivered or no, by the holy gods,

I cannot rightly say: But since king Pericles,
My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again,
A vestal livery will I take me to,

And never more have joy.

Cer. Madam, if this you purpose as you speak, Diana's temple is not distant far,

Where you may 'bide until

your date expire.

Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine

Shall there attend you.

Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all; Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.


Enter GOWER.

Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre, Welcom'd to his own desire. His woful queen leave at Ephess, To Dian there a votaress.


Now to Marina bend your mind,
Whom our fast growing scene must find
At Tharsus, and by Cleon train'd
In music, letters; who hath gain'd
Of education all the grace,

Which makes her both the heart and place
Of general wonder. But alack!
That monster envy, oft the wrack
Of earned praise, Marina's life
Seeks to take off by treason's knife.
And in this kind hath our Cleon
One daughter, and a wench full grown,
Even ripe for marriage fight; this maid
Hight Philoten: and it is said
For certain in our story, she
Would ever with Marina be;

Be't when she weav'd the sleided silk
With fingers, long, small, white as milk;
Or when she would with sharp neeld wound
The cambric, which she made more sound
By hurting it; or when to the lute

She sung, and made the night-bird mute,
That still records with moan; or when
She would with rich and constant pen
Vail to her mistress Dian; still
This Philoten contends in skill
With absolute Marina: so

With the dove of Paphos might the crow
Vie feathers white. Marina gets
All praises, which are paid as debts,
And not as given. This so darks
In Philoten all graceful marks,

That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,
A present murderer does prepare

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do it:

Thou canst not do a thing i'the world so soon,
'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,
Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom,
Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which
Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be
A soldier to thy purpose.

Leon. I'll do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.
Dion. The fitter then the gods should have her.
Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death.
Thou art resolv'd?

I am resolv'd.

Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers.
Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus of her weed,
To strew thy green with flowers; the yellows, blues,
The purple violets, and marigolds,

Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,
While summer days do last. Ah me! poor maid,
Born in a tempest, when my mother died,
This world to me is like a lasting storm,
Whirring me from my friends.

Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone!
How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not
Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have
A nurse of me. Lord! how your favour's chang'd
With this unprofitable woe! Come, come;
Give me your wreath of flowers, ere the sea mar it.
Walk forth with Leonine: the air is quick there,
Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come-
Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her,

Mar. No, I pray you;

I'll not bereave you of your servant.


Come, come; I love the king your father, and yourself, With more than foreign heart. We every day Expect him here: when he shall come and find Our paragon to all reports, thus blasted, He will repent the breadth of his great voyage; Blame both my lord and me, that we have ta en No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you, Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve That excellent complexion, which did steal The eyes of young and old. Care not for me; I can go home alone.


Well, I will go; But yet I have no desire to it.

Dion. Come, come; I know 'tis good for you. Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least; Remember what I have said.

Leon. I warrant you, madam. Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while; Pray you walk softly, do not heat your blood; What! I must have a care of you.


Thanks, sweet madam.— [Exit Dionyza


Is this wind westerly that blows?
Mar. When I was born, the wind was north.

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Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear, But cry'd, good seamen! to the sailors, galling His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes; And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea

That almost burst the deck, and from the laddertackle

Wash'd off a canvas-climber: Ha! says one,
Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry,
They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain

The master calls, and trebles their confusion.
Leon. And when was this?
It was, when I was born:
Never was waves nor wind more violent.
Leon. Come, say your prayers speedily.
What mean you?
Leon. If you require a little space for prayer,
I grant it: Pray; but be not tedious,

For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
To do my work with haste.

Why will you kill me?
Leon. To satisfy my lady.
Mar. Why would she have me kill'd?
Now, as I can remember, by my troth,
I never did her hurt in all my life;

I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn
To any living creature: believe me, la,
I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly:
I trod upon a worm against my will,
But I wept for it. How have I offended,
Wherein my death might yield her profit, or
My life imply her danger?


My commission Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.

Mar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope. You are well-favour'd, and your looks foreshew You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately, When you caught hurt in parting two that fought: Good sooth, it shew'd well in you; do so now: Your lady seeks my life; come you between, And save poor me, the weaker. Leon.

And will despatch.

I am sworn,

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Re-enter LEONINE.

Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down again. But shall I search the market?

Bawd. What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden.

Pand. Thou say'st true; they are too unwholesome, o'conscience. The poor Transilvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.

Boult. Ay, she quickly poop'd him; she made him roast-meat for worms:-but I'll go search the market. [Exit.

Pan. Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over. Bawd. Why, to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are old?

Pand. Ŏ, our credit comes not in like the commodity; nor the commodity wages not with the danger; therefore, if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatch'd. Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods, will be strong with us for giving over.

Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well as we.

Pand. As well as we? ay, and better too; we offend worse. Neither is our profession any trade; --it's no calling:-but here comes Boult.

Enter the Pirates and BOULT, dragging in MARINA. Boult. Come your ways. (To Marina.)-My masters, you say she's a virgin?

1 Pirate. O, sir, we doubt it not.

Boult. Master, I have gone thorough for this piece, you see: if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest.

Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities?

Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent good clothes; there's no further necessity of qualities can make her be refused.

Bawd. What's her price, Boult?


Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand Pand. Well, follow me, my masters; you shall have your money presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her what she has to do, that she may not be raw in her entertainment.

[Exeunt Pander and Pirates. Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her; the colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her virginity; and cry, He that will give most, shall have her first. Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done as I command you.

Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit. Mar. Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow!

Leon. These roving thieves serve the great pi- (He should have struck, not spoke ;) or that these

rate Valdes;

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Pand. Search the market narrowly; Mitylene is full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart, by being too wenchless.

Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do; and with continual action are even as good as rotten.

Pand. Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be us'd in every trade, we shall never prosper. Bawd. Thou say'st true: 'tis not the bringing up of poor bastards, as I think, I have brought up some eleven


(Not enough barbarous,) had not overboard Thrown me to seek my mother!

Bawd. Why lament you, pretty one?
Mar. That I am pretty.


Bawd. You are lit into my hands, where you are like to live.

Bawd. Come, the gods have done their part in Mar. I accuse them not.

Mar. The more my fault

To 'scape his hands, where I was like to die. Bawd. Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.

Mar. No.

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Bawd, If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men must comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir you up.-Boult's returned. Enter BOULT.

Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market? Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice. Bawd. And I pr'ythee tell me, how dost thou find the inclination of the people, especially of the younger sort?

Boult. 'Faith, they listened to me, as they would have hearkened to their father's testament. There was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to her very description.

Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on.

Boult. To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the French knight that cowers i'the hams? Bawd. Who? monsieur Veroles?

Boult. Ay; he offered to cut a caper at the proclamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore he would see her to-morrow.

Becoming well thy feat: what canst thou say,
When noble Pericles shall demand his child?
Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates,
To foster it, nor ever to preserve.
She died by night; I'll say so. Who can cross it!
Unless you play the impious innocent,
And for an honest attribute, cry out,
She died by foul play.
Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods
O, go to. Well, well,
Do like this worst.





Be one of those, that think The petty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence, And open this to Pericles. I do shame To think of what a noble strain you are, And of how cow'd a spirit. To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, Though not his pre-consent, he did not flow From honourable courses. Be it so then: Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead, Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. She did disdain my child, and stood between Her and her fortunes: None would look on her, But cast their gazes on Marina's face; Whilst ours was blurted at, and held a malkia, Not worth the time of day. It pierced me thorough; Bawd. Pray you, come hither awhile. You have And though you call my course unnatural, fortunes coming upon you. Mark me; you must You not your child well loving, yet I find, seem to do that fearfully, which you commit wil-It greets me, as an enterprise of kindness, lingly; to despise profit, where you have most gain. Perform'd to your sole daughter. To weep that you live as you do, makes pity in your lovers. Seldom, but that pity begets you a good opinion, and that opinion a mere profit.

Bawd. Well, well; as for him, he brought his disease hither here he does but repair it. I know, he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns in the sun.

Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we should lodge them with this sign.

Mar. I understand you not.

Boult. O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practice.

Bawd. Thou say'st true, i'faith, so they must: for your bride goes to that with shame, which is her way to go with warrant.


Boult. Faith, some do, and some do not. mistress, if I have bargain'd for the joint,Bawd. Thou may'st cut a morsel off the spit. Boult. may so.

Bawd. Who should deny it? Come, young one, I like the manner of your garments well.

[yet. Boult. Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a sojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom. When nature framed this piece, she meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report.

Boult. I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels, as my giving out her beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home some to-night.

Bawd. Come your ways; follow me.


Heavens forgive it!
What should he say? We wept after her bearse,
And even yet we mourn: her monument
Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs
In glittering golden characters express
A general praise to her, and care in us
At whose expense 'tis done.

Dion. And as for Pericles,

Thou art like the harpy,
Which, to betray, doth wear an angel's face,
Seize with an eagle's talons.

Dion. You are like one, that superstitionsly
Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the flies;
But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeunt
Enter GOWER, before the monument of Marine
at Tharsus.

Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues
make short;

Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't;
Making, (to take your imagination,)
From bourn to bourn, region to region.
By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime
To use one language, in each several clime,
Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you,
To learn of me, who stand i'the gaps to teach you
The stages of our story. Pericles

Is now again thwarting the wayward seas,
(Attended on by many a lord and knight,)

Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, To see his daughter, all his life's delight.
Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.
Diana, aid my purpose!

Bawd. What have we to do with Diana? Pray
you, will you go with us?
SCENE IV.-Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House.
Dion. Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone?
Cle. O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter
The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon!

You'll turn a child again.

I think

Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious world,
I'd give it to undo the deed. O lady,

Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess
To equal any single crown o'the earth,

I'the justice of compare! O villain Leonine.
Whom thou hast poison'd too!

If thou hadst drunk to him, it had been a kindness

Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late
Advanc'd in time to great and high estate,
Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind,
Old Helicanus goes along behind. [brought
This king to Tharsus, (think his pilot thought;
Well-sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have
So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,)
To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone.
Like motes and shadows see them move awhile;
Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile.
(Dumb shew.)

Enter at one door, PERICLES with his Train; CLE-
ON and DIONYZA at the other. Cleon shers
Pericles the tomb of Marina; whereat Pericles
makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a
mighty passion departs. Then Cleon and Dio-
nyza retire.

This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe;
Gow. See how belief may suffer by foul shew!

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