Which the world together joins, That horse, and sail, and high expense, Of Helicanus would set on The crown of Tyre, but he will none: Come not home in twice six moons, He, obedient to their dooms, Will take the crown. The sum of this, Brought hither to Pentapolis, Yravished 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 Hath their keel cut; but Fortune's mood Varies again the grizzly north : Disgorges such a tempest forth That, as a duck for life that dives, So up and down the poor ship drives. And what ensues in this fell storm Shall for itself itself perform. I nill relate, action may Which might not what by me is told. This stage the ship, upon whose deck [Exit. SCENE I. A Ship at Sea. Enter PERICLES. Per. Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these surges, Which wash both Heaven and Hell; and thou, that hast Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench Wilt thou spit all thyself? -The seaman's whistle Unheard. Lychorida! - Lucina, O Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle To those that cry by night, convey thy deity Enter LYCHORIDA with an Infant. Lychorida. 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 Per. How, how, Lychorida! 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. Per. 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 For a more blust'rous birth had never babe : Quiet and gentle thy conditions! For thou'rt the rudeliest welcome 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, gods Throw their best eyes upon it! Enter two Sailors. 1 Sailor. 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 bowlins 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 clear'd of the dead. Per. That's your superstition. 1 Sail. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still observ'd, and we are strong in custom. Therefore briefly yield her, for she must overboard straight. Per. As you think meet. Lyc. Here she lies, sir. Most wretched Queen! Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear; To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper, A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say, what coast is this? 2 Sail. We are near Tharsus. Per. Thither, gentle mariner, Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it? 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 [Exeunt. SCENE II. Ephesus. A Room in CERIMON's House. Enter CERIMON, a Servant, and some shipwrecked Persons. Cer. Philemon, ho! Enter PHILEMON. Philemon. Doth my lord call? Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men: It has been a turbulent and stormy night. Serv. I have been in many; but such a night as this, Till now, I ne'er endur'd. Cer. Your master will be dead ere you return: There's nothing can be minister'd to nature That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary, And tell me how it works. [To PHILEMON. [Exeunt PHILEMON, Servant, and the rest. Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, The very principals did seem to rend, |