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Is made with all due diligence,
That horse, and sail, and high expense,
The crown of Tyre, but he will none:
Will take the crown. The sum of this,
Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?
Which might not what by me is told,
In your imagination hold
This stage, the ship, upon whose deck
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,
Wilt thou spit all thyself?-The seaman's whistle
Lyc. Here is a thing
Too young for such a place, who, if it had
Take in your arms this piece of
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:
For thou'rt the rudeliest welcom'd to this world,
As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
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.
To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
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
There will I visit Cleon, for the babe
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;
Enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.
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!
The heavens, sir,
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
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.
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,
SCENE IV.-Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House.
Enter CERIMON and THAISA.
Cer. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,
That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,
I cannot rightly say: But since king Pericles,
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.
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,
Which makes her both the heart and place
Be't when she weav'd the sleided silk
She sung, and made the night-bird mute,
With the dove of Paphos might the crow
That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,
Thou canst not do a thing i'the world so soon,
Leon. I'll do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.
I am resolv'd.
Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers.
Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,
Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone!
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. 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,
The master calls, and trebles their confusion.
For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
Why will you kill me?
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn
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,
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
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?
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.
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,
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!
Dion. And as for Pericles,
Dion. You are like one, that superstitionsly
Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues
Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't;
Is now again thwarting the wayward seas,
Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, To see his daughter, all his life's delight.
Bawd. What have we to do with Diana? Pray
You'll turn a child again.
Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious world,
Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess
I'the justice of compare! O villain Leonine.
If thou hadst drunk to him, it had been a kindness
Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late
Enter at one door, PERICLES with his Train; CLE-
This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe;