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Even for this charge.

Patience, good sir,

Now, mild may be thy life!
For a more blust'rous birth had never babe:
Quiet and gentle thy conditions!
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,8
With all thou canst find here.--Now the good gods
Throw their best eyes upon it!

Enter two Sailors.

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, wilt 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 hath been observed; and we are strong in earnest. Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.

Per. Be it as you think meet.-Most wretched queen!

Lyc. Here she lies, sir.

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I held it ever,

Virtue and cunnings were endowments greater

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
To me and to my aid, the blest infusions
(Together with my practice) made familiar
That dwell in vegitives, in metals, stones;
And I can speak of the disturbances
That nature works, and of her cures; which give
A more content in course of true delight

Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs


Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear, Than to be thirsty after tottering honor,

No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements
Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time

To give thee hallowed to thy grave, but straight
Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;
Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
And aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale,
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells. Lychorida,
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper;
My casket, and my jewels; and bid Nicander
Bring me the satin coffer: lay the habe
Upon the pillow; hie thee, whiles I say
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.
2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches,
caulk'd and bitumed ready.

Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say, what coast is this?

2 Sail. We are near Tharsus.

Per. Thither, gentle mariner,

Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,
To please the fool and death.

2 Gent. Your honor 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, hath built lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as time shall never-

Enter two Servants with a Chest.

Serv. So; lift there.



What is that?

Sir, even now Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest; 'Tis of some wreck. Cer.

Set 't down, let's look on it. 2 Gent. "Tis like a coffin, sir. Cer.

Whate'er it be,

'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight; If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,

Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it? It is a good constraint of fortune, that

The goddess of child-bearing.

Contend with you in honor.

Than any entrance into life can requite.

Bowlines, ropes of the sails.

It belches upon us.

The principals are the strongest rafters in the roof of

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If e'er this coffin drive a-land,)
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

SCENE III-Tharsus. A Room in CLEON'S House.


Per. Most honor'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!

Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,

Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.


O your sweet queen! That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her hither,

To have bless'd mine eyes!

We cannot but obey
The powers above us. Could I rage and roar
As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end
Must be as 'tis. My babe Marina (whom,
For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so) here
I charge your charity withal, and leave her
The infant of your care; beseeching you
To give her princely training, that she may be
Manner'd as she is born.


Fear not, my lord: Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, That even cracks for woe! This chanced to- (For which the people's prayers still fall on you,)


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 :-

This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth
Breathes out of her; she hath not been en-


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Must in your child be thought on. If neglection'
Should therein make me vile, the common body,4
By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty:
But if to that my nature need a spur,
The gods revenge it upon me and mine,
To the end of generation!
I believe you,

Your honor and your goodness teach me credit,
Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,
By bright Diana, whom we honor all,
Unscissor'd shall this hair of mine remain,
Though I show will in't. So I take my leave.
Good madam, make me blessed in your care
In bringing up my child.

I have one myself,
Who shall not be more dear to my respect,
Than yours, my lord.


Madam, my thanks and prayers. Cle. We'll bring your grace even to the edge o' the shore;

Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune, and
The gentlest winds of heaven.


I will embrace 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.
SCENE IV-Ephesus. A Room in CERIMON'S


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 see again,
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 '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. Appear wilful.

The common people.

Enter GOWER.

Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre,
Welcom'd to his own desire.
His woeful queen leave at Ephess,
To Dian there a votaress.

Now to Marina bend your mind,

Whom our fast-growing scene 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
Secks 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 weav'd the sleided silk
With fingers long, small, white as milk;

Or when she would with sharp neelds wound
The cambric, which she made more sound
By hurting it; or when to the lute
She sung, and made the night-bird mute,
That still records9 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

Prest3 for this blow. The unborn event

1 do commend to your content:

Only I carry winged time

Post on the lame feet of my rhyme;

Which never could I so convey,

With Leonine, a murderer.

Unless your thoughts went on my way.Dionyza does appear,


SCENE I.-Tharsus. An open Place near the Sea-shore.


Dion. Thy oath, remember; thou hast sworn to do it:

'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
Thou canst not do a thing i' the world so soon
To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,
Which is but cold, inflame 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.

Leon. I'll do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.
Dion. The fitter then the gods should have her.

Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death.
Thou art resolv'd?


I am resolv'd.

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While summer 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 favor's changed
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.


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 ta'en
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;
can go home alone.

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.

Is this wind westerly that blows?

[Exit DION.


Was't so!

Mar. When I was born, the wind was north.

Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear, But cry'd, 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


Wash'd off a canvass-climber: Ha! says one,
Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry,
They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain

The master calls, and trebles their confusion.
Leon. And when was this?

It was when I was born:
Never was waves nor wind more violent.
Leon. Come, say your prayers speedily.
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 ear, and I am sworn
To do my work with haste.


Why will you kill me! Leon. To satisfy my lady. Mar. Why would she have me kill'd? Now, as I can remember, by my troth, I never did her hurt in all my life; I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn To any living creature: believe me, la, I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly: I trod upon a worm against my will, But I wept for it. How have I offended, Wherein my death might yield her profit, or My life imply her danger?


My commission Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.

Mar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope. You are well-favor'd, and your looks foreshow You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately. When you caught hurt in parting two that fought. Good sooth, it show'd well in you; do so now:

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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 too unwholesome, o' conscience. The poor Transylvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.

Boull. Ay, she quickly poop'd 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?"

Pand. O, our credit comes not in like the commodity; nor the commodity wages not with the danger; therefore, if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched. Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods, will be strong with us for giving over.

Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well as we. Pand. As well as we! ay, and better too; we offend worse. Neither is our profession any trade; it's no calling:-but here comes Boult.

Enter the Pirates, and BOULT, dragging in MARINA. Boult. Come your ways. [To MARINA.]-My masters, you say she's a virgin?

1 Pirale. O, sir, we doubt it not.

Boult. Master, I have gone thorough for this piece, you see: if you like her, so: if not, I have lost my earnest.

Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities?

Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent good clothes; there's no further necessity of qualities can make her be refused.

Bawl. What's her price, Boult?

Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces.

Pand. Well, follow me, my masters; you shall have your money presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her what she has to do, that she may not be raw in her entertainment. [Exeunt Pander and Pirates. Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her; the si. e. Half open. Bid a high price for her.

color of her hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her virginity; and cry, He that will give most shall have her first. Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done as I command you.

Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit BOULT. Mar. Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow! (He should have struck, not spoke;) or that these pirates

(Not enough barbarous) had not overboard
Thrown me to seek my mother!

Bawd. Why lament you, pretty one?
Mar. That I am pretty.

Bawd. Come, the gods have done their part in

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Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman. Bawd. Marry, whip thee, goslin: I think I shall have something to do with you. Come, you are a young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have you.

Mar. The gods defend me!

Bawd. If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men must comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir you up.-Boult's return'd. Enter BOULT.

Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market? Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice. Bawd. And I pr'ythee tell me, how dost thou find the inclination of the people, especially of the

younger sort!

Boult. 'Faith, they listened to me, as they would have hearkened to their father's testament. There was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to her very description.

Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on.

Boult. To-night, to night. But, mistress, do you know the French knight that cowers? i' the hams? Bawd. Who? monsieur Veroles?

Boult. Ay; he offered to cut a caper at the pro clamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore

he would see her to-morrow.

Bawd. Well, well; as for him, he brought his disease hither: here he does but repair it. I know, he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns in the sun.

Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we should lodge them with this sign.

Bawd. Pray you, come hither a while. You have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me; you must seem to do that fearfully, which you commit willingly; to despise profit, where you have most gain. To weep that you live as you do, makes pity in your lovers: Seldom, but that pity begets you a good opinion, and that opinion a mere profit. Mar. I understand you not.

Boult. O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practice.

Bawd. Thou sayest true, i' faith, so they must: for your bride goes to that with shame, which is her way to go with warrant.

Boult. 'Faith some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if I have bargained for the joint,Bawd. Thou mayest cut a morsel off the spit. Boult. I may so.

Bawd. Who should deny it? Come, young one, I like the manner of your garments well. Boult. Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet.

Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a sojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom. When nature framed this piece, sho

• Bends.

meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report.

Boull. I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels, as my giving out her beauty stir up the lewdly inclined. I'll bring home some to-night.

Bawd. Come your ways; follow me.

Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you
To learn of me, who stand i' the gap to teach you.
The stages of our story. Pericles

Is now again thwarting the wayward seas
(Attended on by many a lord and knight)
To see his daughter, all his life's delight.
Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late
Advanced in time to great and high estate,

Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind, Untied I still my virgin knot will keep. Diana, aid my purpose!

Bawd. What have we to do with Diana? Pray you, will you go with us? [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Tharsus. A Room in CLEON'S



Dion. Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone? Cle. O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon! Diom.

You'll turn a child again.

I think

Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious world, I'd give it to undo the deed. O lady,

Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess
To equal any single crown i' the earth,

I' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine,
Whom thou hast poison'd too!

If thou hadst drunk to him, it had been a kindness
Becoming well thy feat:8 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.

She died by night; I'll say so. Who can cross it?
Unless you play the impious innocent,9
And for an honest attribute cry out,
She died by foul play.


O go to. Well, well,

Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods Do like this worst.

Dum. Be one of those that think The petty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence, And open this to Pericles. I do shame To think of what a noble strain you are, And of how cow'd a spirit. Cle. To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, Though not his pre-consent, he did not flow From honorable courses.


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
Her and her fortunes: None would look on her,
But cast their gazes on Marina's face;
Whilst ours was blurted at, and held a malkin,'
Nor worth the time of day. It pierced me thorough;
And though you call my course unnatural,
You not your child well loving, yet I find,
It greets me, as an enterprise of kindness,
Perform'd to your sole daughter.


Dion. And as for Pericles,

Heavens forgive it!

What should he say? We wept after her hearse,

And even yet we mourn: her monument

Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs

In glittering golden characters express

A general praise to her, and care in us
At whose expense 'tis done.

Thou art like the harpy,
Which, to betray, doth wear an angel's face,
Seize with an eagle's talons.

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 MARINA, at Tharsus.

Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues

make short;

Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't;
Making (to take your imagination)
From bourn to bourn, region to region.
By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime
To use one language in each several clime

si. e. Of a piece with the rest of thy exploit.

An innocent was formerly a common appellation for an idiot. 1 A coarse wench, not worth a good morrow.

Old Helicanus goes along behind.
Well-sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have

This king to Tharsus, (think this pilot thought;
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 a while;
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 retire.

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 o'ershower'd,

He bears

Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears
Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs;
He puts on sackcloth, and to sea.
A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears,
And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit
The epitaph is for Marina writ
By wicked Dionyza.

[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 male this slaughter;
Marina she was call'd; and, at her birth,
Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the


Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd,
Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd:
Wherefore she does (and swears she'll never stint3)
Make raging battery upon shores of flint.
No visor does become black villany
So well as soft and tender flattery.
Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead,
And bear his courses to be ordered
By lady fortune; while our scenes display
His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day,
In her unholy service. Patience, then,
And think you now are all in Mitylen.


SCENE V.-Mitylene. A Street before the

Enter, from the Brothel, two Gentlemen.

1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like?

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, forever.

[Exeu rat.

SCENE VI.-The same. A Room in the Broth Enter Pander, Bawd, and BOULT. Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the wor -th 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 herWhen she should do for clients her fitment, and d me the kindness of her profession, she has me he quirks, her reasons, her master-reasons, her pra ers, her knees; that she would make a puritan the devil, if he would cheapen a kiss of her.

Boult. 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll dis furnish us of all our cavaliers, and make all o111 swearers priests.

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