If thou hadst drunk to him, it had been a kindness Becoming well thy feat: what canst thou say, When noble Pericles shall demand his child? Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates, To foster it, nor ever to preserve. Who can cross it? She died by night; I'll say so. Cleo. O, go to. Well, well, Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods Dion. Be one of those, that think To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, From honourable courses. Dion. Be it so then: Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead; Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. She did disdain my child, and stood between Whilst ours was blurted at, and held a malkin, Cleo. Heavens forgive it! i. e. Of a piece with the rest of thy exploit. + An innocent was formerly a common appellation for an idiot. A coarse wench, not worth a good-morrow. Dion. And as for Pericles, What should he say? We wept after her bearse, Cle. Dion. You are like one, that superstitiously Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the flies; But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeunt. Enter Gower, before the monument of Mariņa at Tharsus. Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short; Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't; From bourn to bourn t, region to region. Is now again thwarting the wayward seas Well-sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have brought This king to Tharsus, (think his pilot thought; * Travelling. ↑ From one boundary to another. So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on), To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. Like motes and shadows see them move awhile; Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. Dumb show. Enter at one door, Pericles, with his train; Cleon and Dionyza at the other. Cleon shows Pericles the tomb of Marina; whereat Pericles makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Then Cleon and Dionyza rctire. Gow. See how belief may suffer by foul show! This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe; And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd, With sighs shot through, and biggest tears oe'rshow'r'd, Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears By wicked Dionyzą. [Reads the inscription on Marina's monument. The fairest, sweet'st, and best, lies here, Who wither'd in her spring of year. She was of Tyrus, the king's daughter, On whom foul death hath made this slaughter; Marina was she call'd; and at her birth, Thetist, being proud, swallow'd some part o'the earth: Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'crflow'd, Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd: Wherefore she does, (and swears she'll never stint,§) Make raging battery upon shores of flint. * His body. The sea. VOL. VII. + To know. Never cease. No visor does become black villainy, SCENE V. Mitylene. A street before the brothel. Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like? [Exit. 2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone. 1 Gent. But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a thing? 2 Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy. houses: shall we go hear the vestals sing? 1 Gent. I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road of rutting, for ever. [Exeunt, SCENE VI. The same. A room in the brothel. Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult. Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her, she had ne'er come here. Bawd. Fye, fye upon her; she is able to freeze the god Priapus, and undo a whole generation, We must either get her ravished, or be rid of her. When she should do for clients her fitment, and do me the kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks, her reasons, her master-reasons, her prayers, her knees; that she would make a puritan of the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her. Boult. 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all our cavaliers, and make all our swearers priests. Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me! Bawd. 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't, but by the way to the pox. Here comes the lord Lysimachus, disguised. Boult. We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish baggage would but give way to custom ers. Enter Lysimachus. Lys. How now? How* a dozen of virginities? Bawd. Now, the gods to-bless your honour! Boult. I am glad to see your honour in good health. Lys. You may so; 'tis the better for you that your resorters stand upon sound legs. How now, wholesome iniquity? Have you that a man may deal withal, and defy the surgeon? Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she wouldbut there never came her like in Mitylene. Lys. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, thou would'st say. Bawd. Your honour knows what 'tis to say, well enough. Lys. Well; call forth, call forth. Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but How much? what price? |