Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her,the colour 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 Iwere as they have been. Get this done as I command you.

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

Not enough barbarous-had not o'erboard

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: he offered to cut a caper at the proclamation; 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.

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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 bargain'd for the joint,

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Bawd. Thou mayst 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 chang'd yet.

Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a sojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom. When nature fram'd this piece, she meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report.

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Boult. 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.

Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,

Untied I still my virgin-knot will keep. 160 Diana, aid my purpose!

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

[Exeunt.]

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And for an honest attribute 2 cry out
"She died by foul play."
Cle.
O, go to. Well, well,
Of all the faults beneath the heaven, the gods
Do like this worst.

Dion.
Be one of those that think
The petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence,
And open this to Pericles. I do shame
To think of what a noble strain you are,
And of how coward a spirit.

Cle. To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, Though not his prime consent, he did not flow From honourable sources.

1 Fact, deed.

2 For an honest attribute, i.e. to be accounted honest.

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Nor none can know Leonine being gone.
She did distain1 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 maw-
kin,

Not worth the time of day. It pierc'd me thorough; 2

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.
Cle.
Heavens forgive it!
Dion. And as for Pericles, what should he
say?

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We wept after her hearse, and yet we mourn: Her monument's almost finish'd, and her

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, from one side, PERICLES with his Train; from the other, CLEON and DIONYZA, in mourning garments. CLEON shows PERICLES the tomb of Marina; whereat PERICLES makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Then exeunt CLEON, DIONYZA, and the rest.

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,

Leaves Tarsus, and again embarks. He swears
Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs:
He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears
A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears,
And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit8
The epitaph is for Marina writ

By wicked Dionyza.

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[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, Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' th' earth:

4 Thwarting, crossing.

5 Goes along, goes with him.

6 Govern it, act as governor.

7 Borrow'd passion, counterfeit grief.

2 Thorough, through.

3 Making, i.e. voyaging.

s Wit, know, take note of.

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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 stint-
Make raging battery upon shores of flint."

No visor doth 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 scene must play
His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day
In her unholy service. Patience, then, 50
'And think you now are all in Mytilen.]

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. Fie, fie upon her! she's able to freeze the god Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We must either get her ravish'd, 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 cheapen1 a kiss of her.

10

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!

1 Cheapen, bargain for.

Lys. How now! How2 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; 't is 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 would -but there never came her like in Mytilene. Lys. If she'd do the deed of darkness, thou wouldst say.

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Bawd. Your honour knows what 't is to say well enough.

Lys. Well, call forth, call forth.

[Exit Boult. Bawd. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but