ch one betake him to his rest;
To-morrow all for speeding do their best.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE IV.  Tyre.  A room in the Govenor's house.

[Enter Helicanus and Escanes.]

HELICANUS.
No, Escanes, know this of me,
Antiochus from incest lived not free:
For which, the most high gods not minding longer
To withhold the vengeance that they had in store
Due to this heinous capital offence,
Even in the height and pride of all his glory,
When he was seated in a chariot
Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him,
A fire from heavn came and shrivell'd up
Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk,
That all those eyes adored them ere their fall
Scorn now their hand should give them burial.

ESCANES.
'Twas very strange

HELICANUS.
And yet but justice; for though
This king were great; his greatness was no guard.
To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward.

ESCANES.
'Tis very true.

[Enter two or three Lords.]

FIRST LORD.
See, not a man in private conference
Or council has respect with him but he.

SECOND LORD.
It shall no longer grieve with out reproof.

THIRD LORD.
And cursed be he that will not second it.

FIRST LORD.
Follow me, then.  Lord Helicane, a word.

HELICANE.
With me? and welcome: happy day, my lords.

FIRST LORD.
Know that our griefs are risen to the top,
And now at length they overflow their banks.

HELICANE.
Your griefs! for what? wrong not your prince your love.

FIRST LORD.
Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane;
But if the prince do live, let us salute him.
Or know what ground's made happy by his breath.
If in the world he live, we'll seek him there;
And be resolved he lives to govern us,
Or dead, give's cause to mourn his funeral,
And leave us to our free election.

SECOND LORD.
Whose death indeed 's the strongest in our censure:
And knowing this kingdom is without a head, --
Like goodly buildings left without a roof
Soon fall to ruin, -- your noble self,
That best know how to rulle and how to reign,
We thus submit unto, -- our sovereign.

ALL.
Live, noble Helicane!

HELICANUS.
For honour's cause, forbear your suffrages:
If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear.
Take I your wish, I leap into the seas,
Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease.
A twelve month longer, let me entreat you to
Forbear the absence of your king;
If in which time expired, he not return,
I shall with aged patience bear your yoke.
But if I cannot win you to this love,
Go search like nobles, like noble subjects,
And in your search spend your adventurous worth;
Whom if you find, and win unto return,
You shall like diamonds sit about his crown.

FIRST LORD.
To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield;
And since Lord Helicane enjoineth us,
We with our travels will endeavour us.

HELICANUS.
Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands:
When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE V. Pentapolis. A room in the palace.

Enter Simonides, reading a letter at one door: the Knights meet
him.]

FIRST KNIGHT.]
Good morrow to the good Simonides.

SIMONIDES.
Knights, from my daughter this I let you know,
That for this twelvemonth she'll not undertake
A married life.
Her reason to herself is only known,
Which yet from her by no means can I get.

SECOND KNIGHT.
May we not get access to her, my lord?

SIMONIDES.
'Faith, by no means; she hath so strictly tied
Her to her chamber, that 'tis impossible.
One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery;
This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd,
And on her virgin honour will not break it.

THIRD KNIGHT.
Loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves.

[Exeunt Knights.]

SIMONIDES.
So,
They are well dispatch'd; now to my daughter's letter:
She tells me here, she'll wed the stranger knight.
Or never more to view nor day nor light.
'Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine;
I like that well: nay, how absolute she's in it,
Not minding whether I dislike or no!
Well, I do commend her choice;
And will no longer have it delay'd.
Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it.

[Enter Pericles.]

PERICLES.
All fortune to the good Simonides!

SIMONIDES.
To you as much, sir!  I am beholding to you
For your sweet music this last night: I do
Protest my ears were never better fed
With such delightful pleasing harmony.

PERICLES.
It is your grace's pleasure to commend;
Not my desert.

SIMONIDES.
Sir, you are music's master.

PERICLES.
The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.

SIMONIDES.
Let me ask you one thing:
What do you think of my daughter, sir?

PERICLES.
A most virtuous princess.

SIMONIDES.
And she is fair too, is she not?

PERICLES.
As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair.

SIMONIDES.
Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you;
Ay, so well, that you must be her master,
And she will be your scholar: therefore look to it.

PERICLES.
I am unworthy for her schoolmaster.

SIMONIDES.
She thinks not so; peruse this writing else.

PERICLES. [Aside.]
A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre!
'Tis the king's subtilty to have my life.
O, seek not to entrap me, gracious lord,
A stranger and distressed gentleman,
That never aim'd so high to love your daughter,
But bent all offices to honour her.

SIMONIDES.
Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art
A villain.

PERICLES.
By the gods, I have not:
Never did thought of mine levy offence;
Nor never did my actions yet commence
A deed might gain her love or your displeasure.

SIMONIDES.
Traitor, thou liest.

PERICLES.
Traitor!

SIMONIDES.
Ay, traitor;

PERICLES.
Even in his throat -- unless it be the king --
That calls me traitor, I return the lie.

SIMONIDES. [Aside.]
Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage.

PERICLES.
My actions are  as noble as my thoughts,
That never relish'd of a base descent.
I came unto your court for honour's cause,
And not to be a rebel to her state;
And he that otherwise accounts of me,
This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy.

SIMONIDES.
No?
Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.

[Enter Thaisa.]

PERICLES.
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.

THAISA.
Why, sir, say if you had,
Who takes offence at that would make me glad?

SIMONIDES.
Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?
[Aside.]
I am glad on't with all my heart. --
I'll tame you; I'll bring you in subjection.
Will you, not having my consent,
Bestow your love and your affections
Upon a stranger?
[Aside.]
who, for aught I know,
May be, nor can I think the contrary,
As great in blood as I myself. --
Therefore hear you, mistress; either frame
Your will to mine, -- and you, sir, hear you,
Either be ruled 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 pleased?

THAISA.
Yes, if you love me, sir.

PERICLES.
Even as my life my blood that fosters it.

SIMONIDES.
What, are you both agreed?

BOTH.
Yes, if it please your majesty.

SIMONIDES.
It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed;
And then with what haste you can get you to bed.

[Exeunt.]


ACT III.

[Enter Gower.]

GOWER.
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 the oven's mouth,
E'er 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 Simonides; the Lords kneel to him.  Then enter
Thaisa with child, with Lychorida a nurse.  The King shows her
the letter; she rejoices:  she and Pericles take leave of her
father, and depart, with Lychorida and their Attendants.
Then exeunt Simonides and the rest.]

By many a dern and painful perch
Of Pericles the careful search,
By the four opposing coigns
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 strange inquire,
To the court of King Simonides
Are letters brought, the tenour these:
Antiochus and his daughter dead;
The men of Tyrus on the head
Of Helicanus would set on
The crown of Tyre, but he will none:
The mutiny he there hastes t' oppress;
Says to 'em, if King Pericles
Come not home in twice six moons,
He, obedient to their dooms,
Will take the crown.  The sum of this,
Brought hither to Pentapolis
Y-ravished the regions round,
And every one with claps can 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 grisled 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
Does 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 told.
In your imagination hold
This stage the ship, upon whose deck
The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak.

[Exit.]

SCENE I.

[Enter Pericles, on shipboard.]

PERICLES.
Thou god of this great vast, rebuke these surges,
Which wash forth 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 deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench
Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida,
How does my queen? Thou stormest 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!

[Enter Lychorida, with an Infant.]

Now, Lychorida!

LYCHORIDA.
Here is a thing too young for such a place,
Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I
Am like to do: take in your aims this piece
Of your dead queen.

PERICLES.
How, how, Lychorida!

LYCHORIDA.
Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.
Here's all that is left living of your queen,
A little daughter: for the sake of it,
Be manly, and take comfort.

PERICLES.
O you gods!
Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
And snatch them straight away? We here below
Recall not what we give, and therein may
Use honour with you.

LYCHORIDA.
Patience, good sir.
Even for this charge.

PERICLES.
Now, mild may be thy life!
For a more blustrous birth had never babe:
Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for
Thou art the rudliest welcome to this world
That ever was prince's child.  Happy what follows!
Thiou 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't!

{Enter two Sailors.]

FIRST SAILOR.
What courage, sir?  God save you!

PERICLES.
Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;
It hath done to me the worst.  Yet, for the love
Of ths poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,
I would it would be quiet.

FIRST SAILOR.
Slack the bolins there!  Thou wilt not, wilt thou?  Blow, and
split thyself.

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

FIRST SAILOR.
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.

PERICLES.
That's your superstition.

FIRST SAILOR.
Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it has been still observed; and we
are strong in custom.  Therefore briefly yield her; for she must
overboard straight.

PERICLES.
As you think meet.  Most wretched queen!

LYCHORIDA.
Here she lies, sir.

PERICLES.
A terrible childben hast thou had, my dear;
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,
And e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells.  O Lychorida.
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe
Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

[Exit Lychorida.]

SECOND SAILOR.
Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed
ready.

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

SECOND SAILOR.
We are near Tarsus.

PERICLES.
Thither, gentle mariner,
Alter thy course for Tyre.  When, canst thou reach it?

SECOND SAILOR.
By break of day, if the wind cease.

PERICLES.
O, make for Tarsus!
There will I visit Cleon, for the babe
Cannot hold out to Tyrus there I'll leave it
At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner:
I'll bring the body presently.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE II.  Ephesus. A room in Cerimon's house.

[Enter Cerimon, with a Servant, and some Persons who have been
shipwrecked.]

CERIMON.
Philemon, ho!

[Enter Philemon.]

PHILEMON.
Doth my lord call?

CERIMON.
Get fire and meat for these poor men:
'T has been a turbulent and stormy night.

SERVANT.
I have been in many; but such a night as this,
Till now, I ne'er endured.

CERIMON.
Your master will be dead ere you return;
There's nothing can be minister'd to nature
That can recover him.

[To Philemon.]
Give this to the 'pothecary,
And tell me how it works.

[Exeunt all but Cerimon.]

[Enter two Gentlemen.]

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Good morrow.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Good morrow to your lordship.

CERIMON.
Gentlemen,
Why do you stir so early?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Sir,
Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,
Shook as the earth did quake;
The very principals did seem to rend,
And all-to topple: pure surprise and fear
Made me to quit the house.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
That is the cause we trouble you so early;
'Tis not our husbandry.

CERIMON.
O, you say well.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
But I much marvel that your lordship, having
Rich tire about you, should at these early hours
Shake off the golden slumber of repose.
'Tis most strange,
Nature should be so conversant with pain.
Being thereto not compell'd.

CERIMON.
I hold it ever,
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 doth 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.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Your  honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restored:
And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even
Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay.

[Enter two or three Servants with a chest.]

FIRST SERVANT.
So; lift there.

CERIMON.
What is that?

FIRST SERVANT.
Sir, even now
Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest:
'Tis of some wreck.

CERIMON.
Set 't down, let's look upon 't.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
'Tis like a coffin, sir.

CERIMON.
Whate'er it be,
'Tis  wondrous  heavy.  Wrench it open straight:
If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,
'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
'Tis so, my lord.

CERIMON.
How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed!
Did the sea cast it up?

FIRST SERVANT.
I never saw so huge a billow, sir,
As toss'd it upon shore.

CERIMON.
Wrench it open;
Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
A delicate odour.

CERIMON.
As ever hit my nostril. So up with it.
O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Most strange!

CERIMON.
Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasured
With full bags of spices! A passport too!
Apollo, perfect me in the characters!

[Reads from a scroll.]

     '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 her, give her burying;
     She was the daughter of a king:
     Besides this treasure for a fee,
     The gods requite his charity!'
If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart
That even cracks for woe!  This chanced tonight.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Most likely, sir.

CERIMON.
Nay, certainly to-night;
For look how fresh she looks!  They were too rough
That threw her in the sea.  Make a fire within
Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.

[Exit a Servant.]

Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian
That had nine hours lien dead,
Who was by good appliance recovered.

[Re-enter  a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.

Well said, well said; the fire and cloths.
The rough and woeful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, beseech you
The viol 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 entranced
Above five hours: see how she gins to blow
Into life's flower again!

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
The heavens,
Through you, increase our wonder and set up
Your fame for ever.

CERIMON.
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
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.]

THAISA.
O dear Diana,
Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Is not this strange?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Most rare.

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

[Exeunt, carrying her away.]

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

[Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, and Lychorida with Marina in her
arms.]

PERICLES.
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!

CLEON.
Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,
Yet glance full wanderingly on us.

DIONYZA.
O, your sweet queen!
That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither,
To have bless'd mine eyes with her!

PERICLES.
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 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.

CLEON.
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!

PERICLES.
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
Good madam, make me blessed in your care
In bringing up my child.

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

PERICLES.
Madam, my thanks and prayers.

CLEON.
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.

PERICLES.
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.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE IV.  Ephesus.  A room in Cerimon's house.

[Enter Cerimon and Thaisa.]

CERIMON.
Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,
Lay with you in your coffer: which are now
At your command.  Know you the character?

THAISA.
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.

CERIMON.
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.

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

[Exeunt.]


ACT IV.

[Enter Gower.]

GOWER.
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
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-rite; this maid
Hight Philoten: and it is said
For certain in our story, she
Would ever with Marina be:
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.

[Exit.]

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

[Enter Dionyza and Leonine.]

DIONYZA.
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.

LEONINE.
I will do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.

DIONYZA.
The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here she comes
weeping for her only mistress' death.  Thou art resolved?

LEONINE.
I am resolved.

[Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers.]

MARINA.
No, I will rob Tellus of her weed
To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues,
The purple violets, and marigolds,
Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave,
While summer-days do last.  Ay 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.

DIONYZA.
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.

MARINA.
No, I pray you;
I'll not bereave you of your servant.

DIONYZA.
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.

MARINA.
Well, I will go;
But yet I have no desire to it.

DIONYZA.
Come, come, I know 'tis good for you.
Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least:
Remember what I have said.

LEONINE.
I warrant you, madam.

DIONYZA.
I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while:
Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood:
What! I must have a care of you.

MARINA.
My thanks, sweet madam.

[Exit Dionyza.]

Is this wind westerly that blows?

LEONINE.
South-west.

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

LEONINE.
Was 't so?

MARINA.
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.

LEONINE.
When was this?

MARINA.
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.

LEONINE.
Come, say your prayers.

MARINA.
What mean you?

LEONINE.
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.

MARINA.
Why will you kill rne?

LEONINE.
To satisfy my lady.

MARINA.
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 spoke 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 any profit,
Or my life imply her any danger?

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

MARINA.
You will not do 't for all the world, I hope.
You are well favour'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:
Your lady seeks my life; come you between,
And save poor me, the weaker.

LEONINE.
I am sworn,
And will dispatch.

[He seizes her.]

[Enter Pirates.]

FIRST PIRATE.
Hold, villain!

[Leonine runs away.]

SECOND PIRATE.
A prize! a prize!

THIRD PIRATE.
Half-part, mates, half-part,
Comes, let's have her aboard suddenly.

[Exeunt Pirates with Marina.]

[Re-enter Leonine.]

LEONINE.
These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes;
And they hav seized Marina. Let her go:
Thre's no hope she will 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 II. Mytilene.  A room in a brothel.

[Enter Pandar, Bawd, and Boult.]

PANDAR.
Boult!

BOULT.
Sir?

PANDAR.
Search the market narrowly; Mytilene 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 they with continual
action are even as good as rotten.

PANDAR.
Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'r 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 bought 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 blo it to
pieces, they are so pitifully sodden.

PANDAR.
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.]

PANDAR.
Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to
live quietly, and so give over.

BAWD.
Wgy to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are
old?

PANDAR.
O, our credit comes not in like the commodity , nor the commodity
wages not with the danger: therfore, 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, others sorts offend as well as we.

PANDAR.
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.

[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.

BAWD.
Boult, has she any qualities?

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

BAWD.
What is her price, Boult?

BOULT.
I cannot be baited one doit of a thousand pieces.

PANDAR.
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 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 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.

MARINA.
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!

BARD.
Why lament you, pretty one?

MARINA.
That I am pretty.

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

MARINA.
I accuse them not.

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

MARINA.
The more my fault
To scape his hands where I was like to die.

BAWD.
Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.

MARINA.
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?

MARINA.
Are you a woman?

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

MARINA.
An honest woman, or not a woman.

BAWD.
Marry, whip the, 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.

MARINA.
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.

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.

[To Marina.]
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.

MARINA.
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 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.

MARINA.
If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,
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 III.  Tarsus. A room in Cleon's house.

[Enter Cleon and Dionyza.]

DIONYZA.
Why, are you foolish?  Can it be undone?

CLEON.
O, Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter
The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon!

DIONYZA.
I think
You'll turn a child agan.

CLEON.
Were I chief lord of all this spacious world,
I'ld give it to undo the deed.  0 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?

DIONYZA.
That she is dead.  Nurses are not the fates,
To foster it, nor ever to preserve.
She died at night; I'11 say so. Who can cross it?
Unless you play the pious innocent,
And for an honest attribute cry out
'She died by foul play.'

CLEON.
O, go to.  Well, well,
Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods
Do like this worst.

DIONYZA.
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.

CLEON.
To such proceeding
Whoever but his approbation added,
Though not his prime consent, he did not flow
From honourable sources,

DIONYZA.
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 through;
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.

CLEON.
Heavens forgive it!

DIONYZA.
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.

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

DIONYZA.
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.]


SCENE IV.

[Enter Gower, before the monument of Marina at Tarsus.]

GOWER.
Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short;
Sail seas in cockles, have an 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
Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you
To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps 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 deight.
Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late
Advanced in time to great and high estate.
Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind,
Old Helicanus goes along behind
Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought
This king to Tarsus, -- think his 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 awhile;
Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile.

[Dumb Show.]

[Enter Pericles, at one door, with all his train; Cleon and
Dionyza, at the other. Cleon shows Pericles the tomb; whereat
Pericles makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a
mighty passion departs. Then exeunt Cleon and Dionyza.]

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 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 made this slaughter;
Marina was she call'd; and at her birth,
Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth:
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 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 scene must play
His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day
In her unholy service. Patience, then,
And think you now are all in Mytilene.

[Exit.]


SCENE V.  Mytilene.  A street before the brothel.

[Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen.]

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Did you ever hear the like?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once
gone.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a
thing?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses: shall's go hear the
vestals sing?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road
of rutting for ever.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE VI. The same. A room in the brothel.

[Enter Pandar, Bawd, and Boult.]

PANDAR.
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 ravished, 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 cheapen a kiss of her.

BOULT.
'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all our
cavaliers, and make our swearers priests.

PANDAR.
Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me!

BAWD.
'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't but by the way to the pox.
Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised.

BOULT.
W