And all-to topple. Pure surprise and fear
Made me to quit the house.

2 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so early; "Tis not our husbandry.

Cer.

O, you say well.

1 Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship,

having

Rich tire about you, should at these early hours
Shake off the golden slumber of repose.

'Tis most strange,

Nature should be so conversant with pain,

Being thereto not compell'd.

Cer.

I held it ever,

Virtue and cunning were endowments greater

Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs
May the two latter darken and expend;
But immortality attends the former,
Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever
Have studied physic, through which secret art,
By turning o'er authorities, I have

(Together with my practice) made familiar
To me and to my aid, the blest infusions
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
And can speak of the disturbances that Nature
Works, and of her cures; which doth give me
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 forth

Your charity, and hundreds call themselves

Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd:
And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but

Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as never shall decay.

Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest: 'Tis of some wreck.

Cer.

Set it down; let's look upon 't.

2 Gent. 'Tis like a coffin, sir.

Cer.

Whate'er it be,

'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight: If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold,

'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us. 2 Gent. 'Tis so, my lord.

Cer.

How close 'tis caulk'd and bitum'd.

Did the sea cast it up?

Serv. I never saw so huge a billow, sir,

As toss'd it up on shore.

Cer.

Come, wrench it open.

Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.

2 Gent. A delicate odour.

Cer. As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it. O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse? 1 Gent. Most strange!

Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasur'd

With bags full of spices! A passport too:

Apollo, perfect me i' the characters!

"Here I give to understand,

[Unfolds a scroll.

[Reads.

(If e'er this coffin drive a-land,)

I, King Pericles, have lost

This Queen, worth all our mundane cost.

Who finds her, give her burying ;
She was the daughter of a king
Besides this treasure for a fee,

The gods requite his charity!"

If thou liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heart

That even cracks for woe! - This chanc'd to-night.
2 Gent. Most likely, sir.
Cer.

For look, how fresh she looks.
That threw her in the sea.

Nay, certainly to-night;

They were too rough

Make fire within:

Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet. [Exit a Servant. Death may usurp on nature many hours,

And yet the fire of life kindle again

The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian,
That had nine hours lien dead,

Who was by good appliances recover❜d.

Enter Servants, 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.

-I

The vial once more;-how thou stirr'st, thou block!
The music there! I pray you, give her air.
Gentlemen,

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,

Through you, increase our wonder, and set up
Your fame for ever.

Cer.

She is alive! behold,

Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels
Which Pericles hath lost, begin to part
Their fringes of bright gold: the diamonds

Of a most praised water do appear

To make the world twice rich. Live, and make
Us weep to hear your fate, fair creäture,

Rare as you seem to be!

Thai.

O dear Diana !

[She moves.

Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is

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;

And Esculapius guide us!

[Exeunt, carrying out THAISA.

SCENE III.

Tharsus. A Room in CLEON's House.

Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, LYCHORIDA, bearing MARINA in her arms.

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!

Make up the rest upon you!

The gods

Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you

mortally,

Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.

Dion.

O your sweet Queen!

That the strict Fates had pleas'd you had brought her

hither,

To have bless'd mine eyes!

Per.

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 gentle 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 's born.

Cle.
Fear not, my lord, but think
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!

Per.

I believe you;

Your honour and your goodness teach me to 't,
Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,
By bright Diana, whom we honour, all
Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain,

Though i shew ill in 't. So I take my leave.
Good madam, make me blessed in your care
In bringing up my child.

Dion.

I have one myself, Who shall not be more dear to my respect,

Than yours, my lord.

Per.

Madam, my thanks and prayers.

Cle. We'll bring your Grace even to the edge o'

th' shore

Then give you up to the vast Neptune, and

The gentlest winds of Heaven.

Per.

I will embrace