ACT V. Enter Gower.

Gow. Marina 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 neeld com

poses

Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry;
That even her art sisters the natural roses :
Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied 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 ehip 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 the bark:
Where, what is done in action, more, if might,
Shall be discover'd; please you, sit, and hark.

[Exit.

And dia 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, sir, what is your place?

Lys. I am governor of this place you lie before.
Hel. Sir,

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. Sir, it would be too tedious to repeat;
But the main grief of all springs from the loss
Of a beloved daughter and a wife.

Lys. May we not see him, then?
Hel. You may, indeed, sir,

But bootless is your sight; he will not speak

Lys. 'Tis well bethought.

She, questionless, with her sweet harmony
And other choice attractions, would allure,
And make a battery through his deafen'd parts,
Which now are midway stopp'd:

She, all as happy as of all the fairest,
Is, with her fellow-maidens, now within
The leafy shelter that abuts against
The island's side.

[He whispers one of the attendant LORDS.Exit LORD, in the Barge of LYCIMACTUS. Hel. Sure, all's effectless; yet nothing we'll omi That bears recovery's name. But, since your kind

ness

We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you fur ther,

That for our gold we may provision have,
Wherein we are not destitute for want,
But weary for the staleness.

Lys. O, sir, a courtesy,

Which if we should deny, the most just God
For every graff would send a caterpillar,
And so inflict our province.-Yet once more
Let me entreat to know at large the cause
Of your king's sorrow.

Hel. Sit, sir, I will recount it ;-
But see, I am prevented.

Enter, from the Barge, LORD, MARINA, and a young LADY.

Mar. I am a maid,

My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes

But have been gaz'd on, comet-like: she speaks
My lord, that, may be, hath endur'd a grief
Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd.
Though wayward fortune did malign my state,
My derivation was from ancestors

Who stood equivalent with mighty kings:
But time hath rooted out my parentage,
And to the world and awkward casualties
Bound me in servitude.-I will desist;
But there is something glows upon my cheek,
And whispers in mine ear, Go not till he speak

[Aside.

Per. My fortunes-parentage-good parentageTo equal mine!-was it not thus? what say you ? Mar. I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage,

You would not do me violence.

Per. I do think so.

I pray you, turn your eyes again upon me.-
You are like something that-What country woman?
Here of these shores ?

Mar. No, nor of any shores:

Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am

No other than I appear.

Per. I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.

My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one

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.

brows;

Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight;

As silver-voic'd; her eyes as jewel-like,

And cas'd as richly: in pace another Juno;
Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hun

gry,

The more she gives them speech.-Where do you ! live ?

Mar. Where I am but a stranger: from the deck You may discern the place.

Per. Where were you bred ?

And how achiev'd you these endowments, which
You make more rich to owe?

Mar. Should I tell my history,

Twould seem like lies disdain'd in the reporting.
Per. Pr'ythee speak;

Falseness cannot come from thee, for thou look'st
Modest as justice, and thou seem'st a palace

For the crown'd truth to dwell in: I'll believe thee,
And make my senses credit thy relation,

To points that seem impossible; for thou look'st
Like one I lov'd indeed, What were thy friends?
Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back,
(Which was when I perceiv'd thee,) that thou cam'st
From good descending?

And wherefore call'd Marina?

Mar. Call'd Marina,

For I was born at sea.

Per. At sea? thy mother?

Where were you

Mar. My mother was the daughter of a king;
Who died the very minute I was born,

As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft
Deliver'd weeping.

Per. O, stop there a little!

This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep

Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be.
My daughter's buried. [Aside] Well:- where were
you bred?

I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,
And never interrupt you.

Mar. You'll scarce believe me: 'twere best I did give o'er.

Per. I will believe you by the syllable Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave:— How came you in these parts? Where were you bred? Mar. The king, my father, did in Tharsus leave

me;

Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,
Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd
A villain to attempt it, who having drawn,

A crew of pirates came and rescu'd me;

Brought me to Mitylene. But now, good sir,

Whither will you have me? Why do you weep? It may be,

You think me an impostor; no, good faith;

I am the daughter to king Pericles,

If good king Pericles be.

Per. Ho, Helicanus!

Hel. Calls my gracious lord?

And another life to Pericles thy father.

Mar. Is it no more to be your daughter, than
To say, my mother's name was Thaisa?
Thaisa was my mother, who did end,
The minute I began.

Per. Now, blessing on thee, rise; thou art my child.

Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus, (Not dead at Tharsus, as she should have been,

By savage Cleon,) she shall tell thee all;

When thou shalt kneel and justify in knowledge,
She is thy very princess.-Who is this?
Hel. Sir, 'tis the governor of Mitylene,
Who hearing of your melancholy state,
Did come to see you.

Per. I embrace you, sir.

Give me my robes; 1 am wild in my beholding.

O heavens bless my girl! But hark, what music?

Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him

O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt, How sure you are my daughter.-But what music? Hel. My lord, I hear none.

Per. None ?

The music of the spheres; list, my Marina.

Lys. It is not good to cross him; give him way.

Per. Rarest sounds!

Do ye not hear?

Lys. Music? my lord, I hear

Per. Most heavenly music:

It nips me unto listening, and thick elnmber
Hangs on mine eye-lids; let me rest.
Lys. A pillow for his head;

[He sleeps. [The Curtain before the Pavilion of PERICLES is closed. So leave him all.- Well, my companion-friends, If this but answer to my just belief, I'll well remember you.

[Exeunt LYSIMACHUS, HELICANUS, MARINA, and attendant LADY.

SCENE II.-The same. PERICLES on the Deck asleep; DIANA appearing to him in a vision.

Dia. My temple stands at Ephesus; hie thee thither,

And do upon mine altar sacrifice.

There, when my maiden priests are met together,
Before the people all,

Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife:
To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call,
And give them repetition to the life.
Perform my bidding, or thou liv'st in woe:
Do't, and be happy, by my silver bow.
Awake, and tell thy dream.

[DIANA disappears. Per. Celestial Dian, goddess argentine,

I will obey thee !-Helicanus!

Enter LYSIMACHUS, HELICANUS, and MARINA. Hel.

Sir.

Per. My purpose was for Tharsus, there to strike The inhospitable Cleon; but I am

For other service first: towards Ephesus Turn our blown sails; eftsoons I'll tell thee why.[To HELICANUS.

Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore,

Enter GOWER, before the Temple of DIANA at Ephesus.

Gow. Now our sands are almost run;

More a little, and then done.

This, as my last boon, give me,

(For such kindness must relieve me,)
That you aptly will suppose

What pageantry, what feats, what shows,
What minstrelsy, and pretty din,
The regent made at Mitylin,

To greet the king. So he has thriv'd,
That he is promis'd to be wiv'd
To fair Marina; but in no wise,
Till he had done his sacrifice,

As Dian bade; whereto being bound,
The interim, pray you, all confound.
In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd,
And wishes fall out as they're will'd,
At Ephesus, the temple see,
Our king, and all his company.
That he can hither come so soon,
Is by your fancy's thankful boon.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The Temple of DIANA at Ephesus; THAISA standing near the Altar, as High Priestess; a number of Virgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending. Enter PERICLES, with his Train; LYSIMACHUS, HELICANUS, MARINA, and a LADY.

Per. Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command,
I here confess myself the king of Tyre;
Who, frighted from my country, did wed
The fair Thaisa, at Pentapolis.

At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth
A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess,
Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tharsus
Was nurs'd with Cleon; whom at fourteen years
He sought to murder; but her better stars
Brought her to Mitylene: against whose shore
Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us,
Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she
Made known herself my daughter.

Thai. Voice and favour!

You are you are-O royal Pericles!

[She faints.

Per, What means the woman? she dies help, gentlemen!

Cer. Noble sir,

If you have told Diana's altar true,

This is your wife.

Per.

Reverend appearer, no;

I threw her o'erboard with these very arms.

Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you.

Per.

"Tis most certain. Cer. Look to the lady;-O, she's but o'erjoy'd. Early, one blust' ring morn, this lady was Thrown on this shore. I op'd the coffin, and Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and plac'd

her

Per. Immortal Dian! Thai.

Now I know you better.When we with tears parted Pentapolis, The king, my father, gave you such a ring.

[Shows a Ring. Per. This, this: no more, you gods Ï your present

kindness

Makes my past miseries sport: You shall do well,
That on the touching of her lips I may

Melt, and no more be seen. O come, be buried
A second time within these arms.
Mar.

My heart

Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom.

[Kneels to THAISA. Per. Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh,

Thaisa;

Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina, For she was yielded there.

Thai.

Bless'd and mine own!

I bless thee for thy vision, and will offer
My night oblations to thee. Thaisa,
This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter,
Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now,
This ornament that makes me look so dismal,
Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form;
And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd,
To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.

Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, Sir, that my father's dead.

Per. Heavens urake a star of him! Yet there, my

Enter GOWER.
Gow. In Antioch, and his daughter, you have heard
Of monstrous lust the due and just reward:
In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen
(Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen,)
Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast,
Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.
In Helicanus may you well descry

A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:
In reverend Cerimon there well appears,

The worth that learned charity aye wears.
For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame

Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name
Of Pericles, to rage the city turn;

That him and his they in his palace burn.
The gods for murder seemed so content
To punish them; although not done, but meant.
So on your patience evermore attending,
New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending.
[Exit Gow EB.

SCENE I.-A Room of State in King LEAR's Palace. Enter KENT, GLOSTER, and EDMUND.

Kent. I thought, the king had more affected the duke of Albany, than Cornwall.

Glo. It did always seem so to us: but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most; for equalities are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety.

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord ?

Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it.

Kent. I cannot conceive you.

Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon she grew round-wombed; and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.

Glo. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mo ther fair; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.-Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ?

Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,

Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answer'd.-Tell me, my daughters,
(Since now we will divest us, both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state,)

Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend

Where merit doth most challenge it,-Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.

Gon. Sir, I

Do love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;

Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;

No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found.

A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable, Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

Čor. What shall Cordelia do? Love and be silent. [Aside. Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,

With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady: To thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual.-What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister,
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find, she names my very deed of love;
Ouly she comes too short,-that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys,
Which the most precious square of sense possesses,
And find, I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness' love.

Cor. Then poor Cordelia!

And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's More richer than my tongue.

[Aside.

Lear. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever, Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom; No less in space, validity, and pleasure, Than that confirm'd on Goneril.-Now our joy, Although the last, not least; to whose young love The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, Strive to be interess'd: what can you say, to draw A third more opulent than your sisters ? Speak. Cor. Nothing, my lord.

Lear. Nothing?

Cor. Nothing.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again.
Cor. Unhappy that I am,
I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; nor more, nor less.
Lear. How, how, Cordelia ? mend your speech a
little,

Lest it may mar your fortunes.
Cor. Good, my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me: I
Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say,
They love you, all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall

carry

Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,
Half my love with him, half my care and duty:
To love my father all.

Lear. But goes this with thy heart?

Cor. Ay, good my lord.

Lear. So young, and so untender?

Cor. So young, my lord, and true.

Lear. Let it be so.-Thy truth then be thy dower: For, by the sacred radiance of the sun : The mysteries of Hecate, and the night: By all the operations of the orbs, From whom we do exist, and cease to be; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity, and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scy.

thian,

Or he that makes his generation messes

To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd,
As thou my sometime daughter.

Kent. Good, my liege,

Lear. Peace, Kent!

Come not between the dragon and his wrath: I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery.-Hence, and avoid my sight![TO CORDELIA. So be my grave my peace, as here I give Her father's heart from her!-Call France;-Who stirs ?

Call Burgundy.-Cornwall, and Albany,

With my two daughters' dowers digest this third;
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects

That troop with majesty.-Ourself by monthly course,
With reservation of a hundred knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode

Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain
"The name, and all the additions to a king;
The sway,

Revenue, execution of the rest,

Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
This coronet part between you.

Kent. Royal Lear,

LGiving the Crown.

Whom I have ever honour'd as my king.
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers,-
Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the

shaft.

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade The region of my heart: be Kent unmanuerly, When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,

When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom,
And, in thy best consideration, check

This hideous rashness: answer my life, my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound
Reverbs no hollowness.

Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more.

Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn

To wage against thine enemies; nor fear to lose it, Thy safety being the motive.

Lear. Out of my sight!

Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still remain The true blank of thine eye.

Lear. Now, by Apollo,Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. Lear. O vassal! miscreant!

[Luying his hand on his sword.

Alb. Corn. Dear sir, forbear.
Kent. Do;

Kill the physioian, and the fee bestow
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift;
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I'll tell thee, thou dost evil.

Lear. Hear me, recreant!

On thine allegiance hear me!

Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
(Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd pride,
To come betwixt our sentence and our power;
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,)
Our potency make good, take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee, for provision
To shield thee from diseases of the world,
And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back

Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following,
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death: Away! By Jupiter,
This shall not be revok'd.

Kent. Fare thee well, king: since thus thou wilt appear,

Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.-
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
[To CORDELIA.
That justly think'st, and has most rightly said !—
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
[To REGAN and GONERIL.
That good effects may spring from words of love.—
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit.
Re-enter GLOSTER; with FRANCE, BurgunDY, and
Attendants.

Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

Take her, or leave her?

Bur. Pardon me, royal sir;

Election makes not up on such conditions.

Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,

I tell you all her wealth.-For you, great king,

[To FRANCE. I would not from your love make such a stray, To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you To avert your liking a more worthier way, Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd Almost to acknowledge hers.

France. This is most strange!

That she, that even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour! Sure, her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree,

That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection
Fall into taint: which to believe of her,

Must be a faith, that reason without miracle
Could never plant in me.

Cor. I yet beseech your majesty,

(If for I want that glib and oily art,

To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,
I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known

It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour:
But even for want of that, for which I am richer;
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue

That I am glad I have not, though not to have it,
Hath lost me in your liking.