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At Ephesus, the temple see,

Our king and all his company,
That he can hither come so soon,

Is by your fancy's thankful doom.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The Temple of DIANA at Ephesus; THAISA standing near the altar, as high priestess; a number of Virgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending. Enter PERICLES with his Train; LYSIMACHUS, HELICANUS, MARINA, and a Lady.

Per. Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command,
I here confess myself the king of Tyre;

Who, frighted from my country, did wed

At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa.

At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth
A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess,
Wears yet thy silver livery. She, at Tharsus
Was nurs'd with Cleon; whom at fourteen years
He sought to murther: but her better stars
Brought her to Mitylene; against whose shore
Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us,
Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she
Made known herself my daughter.

Thai.

Voice and favour!-
[She faints.

You are, you are- O royal Pericles!

Per. What means the woman? she dies! help, gentlemen!

Cer. Noble sir,

If you have told Diana's altar true,

This is your wife.

Per.

Reverend appearer, no;

I threw her o'erboard with these very arms.
Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you.

Per.

Cer.

'T is most certain.

Look to the lady;-O, she's but o'erjoy'd.

Early in blust'ring morn this lady was

Thrown upon this shore. I op'd the coffin;

Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and plac'd her
Here in Diana's temple.

Per.

May we see them?

Cer. Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house,
Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is

Recovered.

Thai. O, let me look!

If he be none of mine, my sanctity

Will to my sense bend no licentious ear,

But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord,

Are you not Pericles? Like him you speak,
Like him you are: Did you not name a tempest,
A birth, and death?

Per. The voice of dead Thaisa!

Thai. That Thaisa am I, supposed dead

And drown'd.

Per.

Thai.

Immortal Dian!

When we with tears parted Pentapolis,

Now I know you better.

[Shows a ring.

The king, my father, gave you such a ring.

Per. This, this; no more, you gods! your present kindness Makes my past miseries sports: You shall do well,

That on the touching of her lips I may

Melt, and no more be seen. O come, be buried

A second time within these arms.

Mar.

My heart

Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom. [Kneels to THAISA.
Per. Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa;
Thy burthen at the sea, and call'd Marina,
For she was yielded there.
Thai.

Blessed, and mine own!

Hel. Hail, madam, and my queen !
Thai.

I know you not.

did fly from Tyre,

Per. You have heard me say, when I
I left behind an ancient substitute.
Can you remember what I call'd the man?
I have nam'd him oft.

Thai.

'T was Helicanus then.

Per. Still confirmation:

Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he.
Now do I long to hear how you were found;
How possibly preserv'd; and whom to thank,

Besides the gods, for this great miracle.

Thai. Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man, through whom The gods have shown their power; that can from first

To last resolve you.

Per.

Reverend sir, the gods

Can have no mortal officer more like

A god than you. Will you deliver how
This dead queen re-lives?

Cer.

I will, my lord.

Beseech you, first go with me to my house,

Where shall be shown you all was found with her;
How she came placed here within the temple ;

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I bless thee for thy vision, and will offer

Night-oblations to thee. Thaisa,

This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter,
Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now,

This ornament that makes me look so dismal,

Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form;

And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd,

To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.

Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit,

Sir, that my father's dead.

Per. Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen, We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves

Will in that kingdom spend our following days;
Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign.
Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay,

To hear the rest untold.-Sir, lead the way.

Enter GOWER.

[Exeunt omnes.

Gow. In Antiochus and his daughter, you have heard Of monstrous lust the due and just reward;

In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen

(Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen)
Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast,

Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.
In Helicanus may you well descry

A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:
In reverend Cerimon there well appears,

The worth that learned charity aye wears.

For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame

Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name
Of Pericles, to rage the city turn;

That him and his they in his palace burn.

The gods for murther seemed so content

To punish them; although not done, but meant.
So, on your patience ever more attending,

New joy wait on you! Here our play hath ending.

[Exit GOWER.

VENUS AND ADONIS.

'Vilia miretur vulgus, mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'

OVID.

TO THE

RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,

EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON AND BARON OF TITCHFIELD.

RIGHT HONOUrable,

I KNOW not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burthen: only if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish, and the world's hopeful expectation.

Your Honour's in all duty,

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him.

'Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.

'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey-secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set I'll smother thee with kisses;
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:

A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,

And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enrag`d, desire doth lend her force,
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;

She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.

The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens; (O how quick is love!)
The steed is stalled up, and even now

To tie the rider she begins to prove:

Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.

So soon was she along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;

And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks:
Then with her windy sighs, and golden hairs,
To fan and blow them dry again she seeks :

He saith she is immodest, blames her 'miss;
What follows more she murders with a kiss.

Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone,
Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuff'd, or prey be gone;

Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin,
And where she ends she doth anew begin.

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