Enter Thaisa.

Per. Then, as you are as virtuous as fair,
Resolve your angry father, if my tongue
Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe
To any syllable that made love to you?
Thai. Why, sir, say if you
had,
Who takes offence at that, would make me glad?
Sim. Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?

I am glad of it with all my heart. [Aside.] I'll tame

you;

I'll bring you in subjection.

Will

[Aside

yon, not having my consent, hestow Your love and your affections on a stranger? (Who, for ought I know to the contrary, Or think, may be as great in blood as I.) Hear, therefore, mistress; frame your will to mine,And you, sir, hear you.-Either be rul❜d by me, Or I will make you-man and wife.

Nay, come; your hands and lips must seal it too.
And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy ;-
And for a further grief,-God give you joy!
What, are you both pleas'd?

Thai.
Yes, if you love me, sir.
Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters it.
Sim. What, are you both agreed?

NOW sleep yslaked hath the rout;
No din but snores, the house about,
Made louder by the o'er-fed breast
Of this most pompous marriage feast.
The cat, with eyne of burning coal,
Now couches 'fore the mouse's hole;
And crickets sing at th' oven's mouth,
As the blither for their drouth.
Hymen hath brought the bride to bed,
Where, by the loss of maidenhead,
A babe is moulded;-Be attent,
And time that is so briefly spent,
With your fine fancies quaintly eche;
What's dumb in show, I'll plain with speech.
Dumb show. Enter Pericles and Simonides at one
door, with Attendants; a Messenger meets them,
kneels, and gives Pericles a letter. Pericles shows it
to Simonides; the Lords kneel to the former. Then
enter Thaisa with Child, and Lychorida. Simonides
shows his Daughter the letter; she rejoices: she and
Pericles take leave of her Father, and depart. Then
Simonides, &c. retire.

Gow. By many a dearn and painful perch,
Of Pericles the careful search

By the four opposing coignes,

Which the world together joins,

Is made, with all due diligence,

That horse, and sail, and high expense,
Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre,
(Fame answering the most strong inquire,)
To the court of king Simonides
Are letters brought, the tenor these:
Antiochus and his daughter's dead;
The men of Tyrus, on the head
Of Helicanus would set on

The crown of Tyre, but he will none:

The mutiny there he hastes t'appease;
Says to them, if king Pericles
Come not, in twice six moons, home,
He obedient to their doom,

Will take the crown. The sum of this,
Brought hither to Pentapolis,
Y-ravished the regions round

And every one with claps 'gan sound,
Our heir apparent is a king :

Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?
Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:
His queen with child makes her desire
(Which who shall cross?) along to go;
(Omit we all their dole and woe ;)
Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,
And so to sea. Their vessel shakes
On Neptune's billow; half the flood

Hath their keel cut; but fortune's mood
Varies again; the grizzled north
Disgorges such a tempest forth
That, as a duck for life that dives
So up and down the poor ship drives,
The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near!
Doth fall in travail with her fear:
And what ensues in this fell storm,
Shall, for itself itself perform.
I nill relate, action may
Conveniently the rest convey:
Which might not what by me is tok
In your imagination hold

This stage, the ship, upon whose deck
The sea tost prince appears to speak.

[Exit.

SCENE I-Enter Pericles, on a Ship at Sea. Per. Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these surges,

Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast
Upon the winds command, bind them in brass.
Having call'd them from the deep! O still thy deaf-
'ning,

Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble
Sulphureous flashes!-O how. Lychorida,
How does my queen?~Thou storm, thou! venomously
Wilt thou spit all thyself?-The seaman's whistle
Is as a whisper in the ears of death,
Unheard.-Lychorida!-Lucina, O
Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle
To those that cry by night, convey thy deity
Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs
Of my queen's travails !-Now, Lychorida―
Enter Lychorida, with an Infant.

For thou'rt the rudeliest welcom'd to this world,
That e'er was prince's child. Happy, what follows!
Thou hast as chiding a nativity,

As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
To herald thee from the womb: even at the first,
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,
With all thou canst find here.-Now the good gods
Throw their best eyes upon it!

Enter two Sailers.

1 Sail. What courage, sir? God save you

Per. Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;

It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,

I would, it would be quiet.

1 Sail. Slack the bolins there; thou wilt not, wik thou? Blow, and split thyself.

2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.

1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard; the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.

Per. That's your superstition.

1 Sail. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it still hatb been observed; and we are strong in earuest. There fore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight. Per. Be it as you think meet.-Most wretched queen! Lyc Here she lies, sir.

Per A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear 3 No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements

Forgot thee utterly: nor have I time

To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;
Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
Aud aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale,
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy eorpse,
Lying with simple shells. Lychorida,

Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
Bring me the sattin coffer: lay the babe'
Upon the pillow; hie thee, whiles. I say
A priestly farewell to her; suddenly, woman.

[Exit Lychorida.

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 I can speak of the disturbances

That nature works, and of her cures; which 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, personal pain, but even
Your purse, still open, have built lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as time shall never-

Enter two Servants with a Chest.

Serv. So; lift there.

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

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

With bags of spices full! A passport too!

Apollo, perfect me i'the characters! [Unfolds a scroll, [Reads.] Here I give to understand,

(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 chane'd to-night.
2 Gent. Most likely, sir.
Cer.

Nay, certainly to-night; For look, how fresh she looks!-They were too rough, That threw her in the sea. Make fire within;

Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet.

Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again

The overpressed spirits. I have heard

Of an Egyptian, had nine hours lien dead,
By good appliance was recovered.

Enter a Servant, with Boxes, Napkins, and Fire.

Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.

The rough and woeful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, 'beseech you.

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, sir,
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
Appear, to make the world twice rich. O live,
And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
Rare as you seem to be!
[She moves.

Cer. Hush, gentle neighbours: Lend me your bands: to the next chamber bear her. Get linen; now this matter must be look'd to, For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come; And Esculapius guide us!

[Exeunt, carrying Thaisa away.

SCENE III.-Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House. Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, Lychorida, and Marina.

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! The gods Make up the rest upon you!

Your offer. Come, dear'st madam.-O, no tears,
Lychorida, no tears:

Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
You may depend hereafter.-Come, my lord. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV-Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House.
Enter Cerimon and Thaisa.

Cer. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,
Lay with you in your coffer: which are now
At your command. Know you the character?
Thai. It is my lord's.

That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,
Even on my yearning time; but whether there
Delivered or no, by the holy gods,

I cannot rightly say: But since king Pericles,
My wedded lord, I ne'er shall sec again,
A vestal livery will I take me to,

And never more bave joy.

Cer. Madam, if this you purpose as you speak,
Diana's temple is not distant far,
Where you may 'bide until your date expire.
Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine
'Shall there attend you.

Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all;
Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Enter Gower.

IMAGINE Pericles at Tyre,
Welcom'd to his own desire.
His woeful queen leave at Ephoes,
To Dian there a votaress.
Now to Marina bend your mind,
Whom our fast growing seene must find
At Tharsus, and by Cleon train'd
In music, letters; who hath gain'd
Of education all the grace,

Which makes her both the heart and place
Of general wonder. But alack!
That monster envy, oft the wrack
Of earned praise, Marina's life
Seeks to take off by treason's knife.
And in this kind hath our Cleon
One daughter, and a wench full grown,
Even ripe for marriage fight; this maid
Hight Philoten: and it is said
For certain in our story, she
Would ever with Marina be:

Be't when she wear'd the sleided silk
With fingers, long, small, white as milk;
Or when she would with sharp neeld wound
The cambric, which she made more sound
By hurting it; or when to the late
She sung, and made the night-bird mute,
That still records with moan; or when
She would with rich and constant pen

Vail to her mistress Dian; still

This Philoten contends in skill
With absolute Marina: so

With the dove of Paphos might the crow

Vie feathers white. Marina gets

All praises, which are paid as debts,
And not as given. This so darks
In Philoten all graceful marks,
That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,
A present murderer does prepare
For good Marina, that her daughter
Might stand peerless by this slaughter.
The sooner her vile thoughts to stead,
Lychorida, our nurse, is dead;
And cursed Dionyza hath

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;

To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds,

Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,

While suminer days do last. Ah me! poor maid,
Born in a tempest, when my mother died,
This world to me is like a lasting storm,
Whirring me from my friends.

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'
With this unprofitable woe! Come, come;
Give me your wreath of flowers, ere the sea mar it.
Walk forth with Leonine; the air is quick there,
Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come ;-
Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.
Mar No, I pray you ;

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
Expect him here: when he shall come, and find
Our paragon to all reports, thus blasted,
He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;
Blame both my lord and me, that we have talen
No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,
Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve
That excellent complexion, which did steal
The eyes of young and old. Care not for me;
I can go home alone.
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 a care of you.

Mar.

Thanks, sweet madam. [Exit Dionyza. Is this wind westerly that blows?

Leon.
South-west.
Mar. When I was born, the wind was north.
Leon.

Was't so?

Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear,
But cried, good seamen! to the sailors, galling
His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes;
And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea

That almost burst the deck, and from the ladder-tackle
Wash'd off a canvas-climber: Ha! says one,
Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry,

They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain whistles,
The master calls, and trebles their confusion.
Leon. And when, was this?
Mar.
It was when I was born:
Never was waves nor wind more violent.

Leon. Come, say your prayers speedily.
Mar.

What mean you?

Leon. If you require a little space for prayer,

I grant it: Pray; but be not tedious,

For the gods are quick of car, and I am sworn To do my work with haste.

Mar.

Why, will you kill me?

Leon. To satisfy my lady.
Mar. Why would she have me kill'd?

Enter Pirates, whilst Marina is struggling. 1 Pirate. Hold, villain! [Leonine runs away. 2 Pirate. A prize! a prize!

3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's have her aboard suddenly.

[Exeunt Pirates, with Marina

SCENE II.-The same. Re-enter Leonine. Leon. These roving thieves serve the great pirate

Valdes; And they have seiz'd Marina. Let her go: There's no hope she'll return. I'll swear she's dead, And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further; Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, Not carry her aboard. If she remain, Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain.

[Exit.

SCENE III-Mitylene. A Room in a Brothel. En ter Pander, Bawd, and Boult.

Pand. Boult. Boult. Sir.

Pand. Search the market narrowly; Mitylene is full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart, by being too wenchless.

Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do; and with continual action are even as good as rotten.

Pand. Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall never prosper.

Bawd. Thou say'st true: 'tis not the bringing up of poor bastards, as I think, I have brought up some eleven

Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down again. But shall I search the market?

Bawd. What else, man: The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden. Pand. Thou say'st true; they are two unwholesome o'conscience. The poor Transilvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.

Boult. Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat for worms: but I'll go search the market. [Exit Boult.

Pand. Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over. Bawd. Why, to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are old?

Prud. O, our credit comes not in like the commed