Your offer. Come, dear'st madam. O, no tears, Enter CERIMON and THAISA. Cer. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, Lay with you in your coffer, which are At your command. Know you the character? That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles, 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 abide till your date expire. Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all; [Exeunt. ACT IV. Enter GoWER. GOWER. I MAGINE Pericles arriv'd at Tyre, Welcom'd and settled to his own desire: His woful queen we leave at Ephesus, Unto Diana there a votaress. Now to Marina bend your mind, Whom our fast-growing scene must find In music, letters; who hath gain'd Which makes her both the heart and place That monster envy, oft the wrack For certain in our story, she Would ever with Marina be: Be 't when she weav'd the sleided silk Vail to her mistress Dian; still With absolute Marina: so The dove of Paphos might with the crow All praises, which are paid as debts, The pregnant instrument of wrath Prest for this blow. The unborn event I do commend to your content: Only I carry winged time Post on the lame feet of my rhyme; Which never could I so convey, Unless your thoughts went on my way. Dionyza doth appear, With Leonine, a murtherer. [Exit. SCENE I. Tharsus. An open Place near the Sea-shore. Enter DIONYZA an. LEINE. Dion. Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do 't: "Tis but a blow which never shall be known. Thou canst not do a thing i' th' world so soon, To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience, Which is but cold, inflaming 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. Leonine. I'll do 't; but yet she is a goodly crea ture. Dion. The fitter, then, the gods should have her. She comes weeping for her only nurse's death. Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers. Marina. 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 carpet, hang upon thy grave, While summer days do last. Ah me, poor maid! 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 Come, Give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it. I'll not bereave you of your servant Dion. Come, come; I love the King your father, and yourself, With more than foreign heart. We every day He will repent the breadth of his great voyage, Mar. 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 care of you. Mar. My thanks, sweet madam. [Exit DIONYZA. South-west. Is the wind westerly that blows? Leon. Leon. Mar. When I was born, the wind was North. Was 't so? But cri'd "good seamen!" to the sailors, galling And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea That almost burst the deck. Leon. When was this? Never was waves nor wind more violent; And from the ladder-tackle washes off A canvass-climber. • "Ha!" says one, "wilt out?" |