988

Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;
The diamonds of a most praised water
Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live,
And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
Rare as you seem to be.
[She moves.
Thai.
O dear Diana,
Where am I? Where's my lord? What world
is this?

Sec. Gent. Is not this strange?
First Gent.

Most rare.
Cer.
Hush, my gentle neighbours!
Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear

her.

Come, come;

Get linen now this matter must be look'd to,
For her relapse is mortal.
And Esculapius guide us!

IIO

[Exeunt, carrying her away.

SCENE III. Tarsus. A room in Cleon's house.

Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHO

RIDA with MARINA in her arms.

Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone;

My twelve months are expired, 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 wanderingly on us.
Dion.

O your sweet queen! That the strict fates had pleased you had brought

her hither,

To have bless'd mine eyes with her!

Per.

We cannot but obey The powers above us. Could I rage and roar 10 As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end

Must be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom,
For she was born at sea, I have named so, here
I charge your charity withal, leaving her'
The infant of your care; beseeching you
To give her princely training, that she may be
Manner'd as she is born.

Cle.
Fear not, my lord, but think
Your grace, that fed my country with your corn,
For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,
Must in your child be thought on. If neglection
Should therein make me vile, the common body,

By you relieved, 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!

Per.

I believe you;

Your honour and your goodness teach me to 't,
Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,
By bright Diana, whom we honour, all
Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain,
Though I show ill in't. So I take my leave. 30
Good madam, make me blessed in your care
In bringing up my child.
Dion.
I have one myself,
Who shall not be more dear to my respect
Than yours, my lord.

Per.
Madam, my thanks and prayers.
Cle. We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge
o' the shore,

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

I will embrace Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears, Lychorida, no tears:

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

40

[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 eaning time; but whether there
Deliver'd, 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.

ΙΟ

Cer. Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak, Diana's temple is not distant far, Where you may abide till 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.

Gow. Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre,
Welcomed and settled to his own desire.
His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus,
Unto Diana there a votaress.
Now to Marina bend your mind,
Whom our fast-growing scene must find
At Tarsus, 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 10
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.

Be't when she weaved the sleided silk
With fingers long, small, white as milk;
Or when she would with sharp needle 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 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;
Which never could I so convey,

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

With Leonine, a murderer.

30

40

50

[Exit.

SCENE I. Tarsus. An open place near the sea-shore.

Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE.

Dion. Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do't:

"Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon,
To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,
Which is but cold, inflaming love i' 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 will do't; but yet she is a goodly

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 changed
With this unprofitable woe!

Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it.
Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there,
And it pierces and sharpens the stomach. Come,
Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. 30
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 taken
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.

40

I warrant you, madam.

Leon.
Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a

while :

Is this wind westerly that blows?
Leon.

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, haling ropes;

| And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea That almost burst the deck.

60

Leon. When was this? Mar. When I was born: Never was waves nor wind more violent; And from the ladder-tackle washes off A canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, wilt out?' And with a dropping industry they skip From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and The master calls, and trebles their confusion. Leon. Come, say your prayers. 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 ear, and I am sworn 70 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? 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,

86

First Pirate. Hold, villain!

[Leonine runs away. Sec. Pirate. A prize! a prize! Third Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's have her aboard suddenly.

[Exeunt Pirates with Marina. Re-enter LEONINE.

Leon. These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes;

And they have seized Marina. Let her go': There's no hope she will return. I'll swear she's dead,

And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further: roo
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.

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 sayest true: 'tis not our 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.

21

Pand. Thou sayest true; they're too unwholesome, o' conscience. The poor Transylvanian 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. Pand. Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give

over.

30

Re-enter BOULT, with the Pirates and MARINA.

Boult. [To Marina] Come your ways. My masters, you say she's a virgin?

First Pirate. O, sir, we doubt it not. Boult. Master, I have gone through for this piece, you see: if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest.

50

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. Bawd. 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.

бо

[Exeunt Pandar and Pirates. Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her, the colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her virginity; and cryHe 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.

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 thrown

me

For to seek my mother!

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

70

Bawd. Come, the gods have done their part in you.

Mar. I accuse them not.

Bawd. You are light into my hands, where you are like to live.

Mar. The more my fault

To scape his hands where I was like to die. 80 Bawd. Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. Mar. No.

Bawd. Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all fashions: you shall fare well; you shall have the difference of all complexions. What! do you stop your ears?

Mar. Are you a woman?

Bawd. What would you have me be, an I be not a woman?

Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman. go Bawd. Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think I shall have something to do with you. Come,

you're 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 returned.

Re-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 prithee 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. 109 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 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.

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

Bawd. [To Mar.] Pray you, come hither awhile. You have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me: you must seem to do that fearfully which you commit willingly, despise profit where you have most gain. To weep that you live as ye 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.

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

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

139 Boult. 'Faith, some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if I have bargained for the joint,

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

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.

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

SCENE III. Tarsus. A room in Cleon's house. Enter CLEON and DIONYZA.

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!
Dion.

You'll turn a child again.

I think

Cle. Were I chief lord of all this spacious world, I'ld give it to undo the deed. O lady, Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess To equal any single crown o' the earth I' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine! Whom thou hast poison'd too: If thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindness Becoming well thy fact: what canst thou say When noble Pericles shall demand his child? Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the

fates,

ΤΟ

To foster it, nor ever to preserve.
She died at night; I'll say so. Who can cross it?
Unless you play the pious innocent,
And for an honest attribute cry out
'She died by foul play.'
Cle.
O, go to. Well, well,
Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods 20
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.
Dion.
Be it so, then :
Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead,
Nor none can know, Leonine being gone.
She did distain 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
Not 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.

Cle.

30

Heavens forgive it!

40

Dion. And as for Pericles, What should he say? We wept after her hearse, And 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.

Cle. Thou art like the harpy, Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face, Seize with thine eagle's talons.