Boult. I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the common hangman shall execute it. Come your ways. We'll have no more gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say.

Enter Bawd.

Bawd. How now! what's the matter?

Boult. Worse and worse, mistress: she has here spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus.

Bawd. O, abominable!

Boult. She makes our profession as it were to stink afore the face of the gods.

Bawd. Marry, hang her up for ever!

Boult. The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a snowball; saying his prayers, too.

Bawd. Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable.

:

Boult. An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is, she shall be plough'd.

Mar. Hark, hark, you gods!

Bawd. She conjures: away with her. Would she had never come within my doors. Marry hang you!

She's born to undo us. Will you not go the way of women-kind? Marry come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays! [Exit Bawd. Boult. Come, mistress; come your way with me. Mar. Whither wilt thou have me?

Boult. To take from you the jewel you hold so dear. Mar. Pr'ythee, tell me one thing first.

Boult. Come now, your one thing.

Mar. What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? Boult. Why, I could wish him to be my master; ör rather, my mistress.

Mar. Neither of these are so bad as thou art,
Since they do better thee in their command.
Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend
Of Hell would not in reputation change:
Thou'rt the damn'd door-keeper to every coystrel
That hither comes inquiring for his Tib;

To the cholerick fisting of each rogue thy ear
Is liable; thy food is such

As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.

Boult. What would you have me do? go to the wars, would you? where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough in the end to buy him a wooden one?

Mar. Do any thing but this thou do'st. Empty
Old receptacles, or common sewers, of filth;
Serve by indenture to the common hangman :
Any of these ways are better yet than this;
For [that] which thou professest, a baboon,
Could he [but] speak, would own a name too dear.
O that the gods would safely from this place
Deliver me! Here, here is gold for thee.
If that thy master would gain [aught] by me,
Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance,
With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast;
And I will undertake all these to teach.

I doubt not but this populous city will
Yield many scholars.

Boult. But can you teach all this you speak of?
Mar. Prove that I cannot, take me home again,

And prostitute me to the basest groom

That doth frequent your house.

Boult. Well, I will see what I can do for thee:

if I can place thee, I will.

Mar. But, amongst honest women ?

Boult. Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst

them. But since my master and mistress have bought you, there's no going but by their consent; therefore, I will make them acquainted with your purpose, and I doubt not but I shall find them tractable enough. Come; I'll do for thee what I can come your ways.

[Exeunt.

MA

ACT V.

Enter Gower.

GOWER.

ARINA thus the brothel scapes, and chances
Into an honest house, our story says.

She sings like one immortal, and she dances

As goddess-like to her admired lays.

Deep clerks she dumbs, and with her needle composes
Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry,
That even her art sisters the natural roses;
Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubi'd cherry :

That pupils lacks she none of noble race,
Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain
She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place,
And to her father turn our thoughts again,

:

Where we left him on the sea: we there him lost;
Whence, driven before the winds, he is arriv'd
Here where his daughter dwells and on this coast
Suppose him now at anchor. The city striv'd
God Neptune's annual feast to keep: from whence
Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies,

His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense;
And to him in his barge with fervour hies.
In your supposing once more put your sight

Of heavy Pericles: think this his bark:

Where, what is done in action, more, if might,
Shall be discover'd; please you, sit, and hark. [Exit.

SCENE I.

On board PERICLES' Ship, off Mitylene. A Pavilion on deck, with a Curtain before it; PERICLES within it, reclining on a Couch. A Barge lying beside the Tyrian Vessel.

Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian vessel, the other to the barge; to them HELICANUS. Tyrian Sailor. Where's the Lord Helicanus? he can [To the Sailor of Mitylene.

resolve you. O, here he is.

Sir, there's a barge put off from Mitylene,

And in it is Lysimachus, the Governor,

Who craves to come aboard. What is your will?
Hel. That he have his. Call up some gentlemen.
Tyr. Sail.
Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls.

Enter two or three Gentlemen.

1 Gent. Doth your lordship call?

Hel. Gentlemen,

There is some of worth would come aboard: I pray Greet them fairly.

[Gentlemen and Sailors descend, and go on board the barge.

Enter, from thence, LYSIMACHUS and Lords, attended by the Tyrian Gentlemen, and the two Sailors. Tyr. Sail. Sir,

This is the man that can in aught you would
Resolve you.

Lys.
Hel.

Hail, reverend sir! The gods preserve you!
And you, [sir,] to outlive the age I am,

And die as I would do.

Lys.

You wish me well.

Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs, Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us,

I made to it to know of whence you are.

Hel. First, what is your place?

Lys. I am the Governor of this place you lie be

Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the King;

A man, who for this three months hath not spoken To any one, nor taken sustenance,

But to prorogue his grief.

Lys. Upon what ground is his distemperature?

Hel. 'Twould be too tedious to repeat;

But the main grief springs from the loss
Of a belov'd daughter and a wife.

Lys.

May we not see him, then?

Hel. You may,

But bootless is your sight; he will not speak

To any.

Lys. Yet, let me obtain my wish.

Hel. Behold him. [PERICLES discovered.] This was a goodly person,

Till the disaster that one mortal night

Drove him to this.

Lys. Sir King, all hail! the gods preserve you! Hail, royal sir!

Hel. It is in vain; he will not speak to you.

1 Lord. Sir, we have a maid in Mitylene I durst

wager

Would win some words of him.

Lys.

'Tis well bethought.