Pericles, Prince of Tyre

Now, Lychorida!LYCHORIDAHere is a thing too young for such a place,Who, if it had conceit, would die, as IAm like to do: take in your aims this pieceOf your dead queen.PERICLESHow, how, Lychorida!LYCHORIDAPatience, 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.PERICLESO you gods!Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,And snatch them straight away? We here belowRecall not what we give, and therein mayUse honour with you.LYCHORIDAPatience, good sir.Even for this charge.PERICLESNow, mild may be thy life!For a more blustrous birth had never babe:Quiet and gentle thy conditions! forThou art the rudliest welcome to this worldThat ever was prince's child. Happy what follows!Thiou hast as chiding a nativityAs fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,To herald thee from the womb: even at the firstThy loss is more than can thy portage quit,With all thou canst find here, Now, the good godsThrow their best eyes upon't!

[Enter two Sailors.]

FIRST SAILORWhat courage, sir? God save you!PERICLESCourage enough: I do not fear the flaw;It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the loveOf 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.PERICLESThat'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.PERICLESAs you think meet. Most wretched queen!LYCHORIDAHere she lies, sir.PERICLESA terrible childben hast thou had, my dear;No light, no fire: the unfriendly elementsForgot thee utterly; nor have I timeTo give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straightMust cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;Where, for a monument upon thy bones,And e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whaleAnd 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 NicanderBring me the satin coffer: lay the babeUpon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I sayA priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

[Exit Lychorida.]

SECOND SAILOR. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready.PERICLESI thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?SECOND SAILORWe are near Tarsus.PERICLESThither, gentle mariner,Alter thy course for Tyre. When, canst thou reach it?SECOND SAILORBy break of day, if the wind cease.PERICLESO, make for Tarsus!There will I visit Cleon, for the babeCannot hold out to Tyrus there I'll leave itAt 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.]

CERIMONPhilemon, ho!

[Enter Philemon.]

PHILEMONDoth my lord call?CERIMONGet fire and meat for these poor men:'T has been a turbulent and stormy night.SERVANTI have been in many; but such a night as this,Till now, I ne'er endured.CERIMONYour master will be dead ere you return;There's nothing can be minister'd to natureThat can recover him.

[To Philemon.]

Give this to the 'pothecary,And tell me how it works.

[Exeunt all but Cerimon.]

[Enter two Gentlemen.]

FIRST GENTLEMANGood morrow.SECOND GENTLEMANGood morrow to your lordship.CERIMONGentlemen,Why do you stir so early?FIRST GENTLEMANSir,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 fearMade me to quit the house.SECOND GENTLEMANThat is the cause we trouble you so early;'Tis not our husbandry.CERIMONO, you say well.FIRST GENTLEMANBut I much marvel that your lordship, havingRich tire about you, should at these early hoursShake off the golden slumber of repose.'Tis most strange,Nature should be so conversant with pain.Being thereto not compell'd.CERIMONI hold it ever,Virtue and cunning were endowments greaterThan nobleness and riches: careless heirsMay the two latter darken and expend;But immortality attends the former,Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I everHave studied physic, through which secret art,By turning o'er authorities, I have,Together with my practice, made familiarTo me and to my aid the blest infusionsThat dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;And I can speak of the disturbancesThat nature works, and of her cures; which doth give meA more content in course of true delightThan to be thirsty after tottering honour,Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,To please the fool and death.SECOND GENTLEMANYour honour has through Ephesus pour'd forthYour charity, and hundreds call themselvesYour creatures, who by you have been restored:And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but evenYour purse, still open, hath built Lord CerimonSuch strong renown as time shall ne'er decay.

[Enter two or three Servants with a chest.]

FIRST SERVANTSo; lift there.CERIMONWhat is that?FIRST SERVANTSir, even nowDid the sea toss upon our shore this chest:'Tis of some wreck.CERIMONSet 't down, let's look upon 't.SECOND GENTLEMAN'Tis like a coffin, sir.CERIMONWhate'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.CERIMONHow close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed!Did the sea cast it up?FIRST SERVANTI never saw so huge a billow, sir,As toss'd it upon shore.CERIMONWrench it open;Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.SECOND GENTLEMANA delicate odour.CERIMONAs ever hit my nostril. So up with it.O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!FIRST GENTLEMANMost strange!CERIMONShrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasuredWith 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 heartThat even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight.SECOND GENTLEMANMost likely, sir.CERIMONNay, certainly to-night;For look how fresh she looks! They were too roughThat threw her in the sea. Make a fire withinFetch hither all my boxes in my closet.

[Exit a Servant.]

Death may usurp on nature many hours,And yet the fire of life kindle againThe o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an EgyptianThat 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 youThe 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 warmthBreathes out of her: she hath not been entrancedAbove five hours: see how she gins to blowInto life's flower again!FIRST GENTLEMANThe heavens,Through you, increase our wonder and set upYour fame for ever.CERIMONShe is alive; behold,Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewelsWhich Pericles hath lost,Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;The diamonds of a most praised waterDo 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.]

THAISAO dear Diana,Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this?SECOND GENTLEMANIs not this strange?FIRST GENTLEMANMost rare.CERIMONHush, 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.]

PERICLESMost honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone;My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus standsIn a litigious peace. You, and your lady,Take from my heart all thankfulness! The godsMake up the rest upon you!CLEONYour shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,Yet glance full wanderingly on us.DIONYZAO, your sweet queen!That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither,To have bless'd mine eyes with her!PERICLESWe cannot but obeyThe powers above us. Could I rage and roarAs doth the sea she lies in, yet the endMust be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom,For she was born at sea, I have named so, hereI charge your charity withal, leaving herThe infant of your care; beseeching youTo give her princely training, that she may beManner'd as she is born.CLEONFear not, my lord, but thinkYour 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 neglectionShould 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!PERICLESI 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, allUnscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain,Though I show ill in 't. So I take my leaveGood madam, make me blessed in your careIn bringing up my child.DIONYZAI have one myself,Who shall not be mere dear to my respectThan yours, my lord.PERICLESMadam, my thanks and prayers.CLEONWe'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore,Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune andThe gentlest winds of heaven.PERICLESI will embraceYour offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears,Lychorida, no tears:Look to your little mistress, on whose graceYou may depend hereafter. Come, my lord.

[Exeunt.]

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

[Enter Cerimon and Thaisa.]

CERIMONMadam, this letter, and some certain jewels,Lay with you in your coffer: which are nowAt your command. Know you the character?THAISAIt is my lord's.That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,Even on my eaning time; but whether thereDeliver'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.CERIMONMadam, 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 mineShall there attend you.THAISAMy recompense is thanks, that's all;Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV

[Enter Gower.]

GOWERImagine 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 findAt Tarsus, and by Cleon train'dIn music, letters; who hath gain'dOf education all the grace,Which makes her both the heart and placeOf general wonder. But, alack,That monster envy, oft the wrackOf earned praise, Marina's lifeSeeks to take off by treason's knife.And in this kind hath our CleonOne daughter, and a wench full grown,Even ripe for marriage-rite; this maidHight Philoten: and it is saidFor certain in our story, sheWould ever with Marina be:Be't when she weaved the sleided silkWith fingers long, small, white as milk;Or when she would with sharp needle wound,The cambric, which she made more soundBy hurting it; or when to the luteShe sung, and made the night-bird muteThat still records with moan; or whenShe would with rich and constant penVail to her mistress Dian; stillThis Philoten contends in skillWith absolute Marina: soWith the dove of Paphos might the crowVie feathers white. Marina getsAll praises, which are paid as debts,And not as given. This so darksIn Philoten all graceful marks,That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,A present murderer does prepareFor good Marina, that her daughterMight stand peerless by this slaughter.The sooner her vile thoughts to stead,Lychorida, our nurse, is dead:And cursed Dionyza hathThe pregnant instrument of wrathPrest for this blow. The unborn eventI do commend to your content:Only I carry winged timePost 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.]

DIONYZAThy 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, whichEven women have cast off, melt thee, but beA soldier to thy purpose.LEONINEI 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?LEONINEI am resolved.

[Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers.]

MARINANo, I will rob Tellus of her weedTo 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.DIONYZAHow now, Marina! why do you keep alone?How chance my daughter is not with you? Do notConsume your blood with sorrowing: you haveA nurse of me. Lord, how your favour's changedWith 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.MARINANo, I pray you;I'll not bereave you of your servant.DIONYZACome, come;I love the king your father, and yourself,With more than foreign heart. We every dayExpect him here: when he shall come and findOur paragon to all reports thus blasted,He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;Blame both my lord and me, that we have takenNo care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserveThat excellent complexion, which did stealThe eyes of young and old. Care not for me;I can go home alone.MARINAWell, I will go;But yet I have no desire to it.DIONYZACome, come, I know 'tis good for you.Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least:Remember what I have said.LEONINEI warrant you, madam.DIONYZAI'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.MARINAMy thanks, sweet madam.

[Exit Dionyza.]

Is this wind westerly that blows?LEONINESouth-west.MARINAWhen I was born, the wind was north.LEONINEWas 't so?MARINAMy father, as nurse said, did never fear,But cried 'Good seamen!' to the sailors, gallingHis kingly hands, haling ropes;And, clasping to the mast, endured a seaThat almost burst the deck.LEONINEWhen was this?MARINAWhen I was born:Never was waves nor wind more violent;And from the ladder-tackle washes offA canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, wilt out?'And with a dropping industry they skipFrom stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, andThe master calls, and trebles their confusion.LEONINECome, say your prayers.MARINAWhat mean you?LEONINEIf 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 swornTo do my work with haste.MARINAWhy will you kill rne?LEONINETo satisfy my lady.MARINAWhy 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 turnTo 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?LEONINEMy commissionIs not to reason of the deed, but do it.MARINAYou will not do 't for all the world, I hope.You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshowYou 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.LEONINEI am sworn,And will dispatch.

[He seizes her.]

[Enter Pirates.]

FIRST PIRATEHold, villain!

[Leonine runs away.]

SECOND PIRATEA prize! a prize!THIRD PIRATEHalf-part, mates, half-part,Comes, let's have her aboard suddenly.

[Exeunt Pirates with Marina.]

[Re-enter Leonine.]

LEONINEThese 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 deadAnd 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.]

PANDARBoult!BOULTSir?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.BOULTAy, 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.BAWDCome, 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 PIRATEO, 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.BAWDBoult, 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.BAWDWhat is her price, Boult?BOULTI cannot be baited one doit of a thousand pieces.PANDARWell, follow me, my masters, you shall have your money presently.Wife, take her in; instruct her what she has to do, that she maynot 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.BOULTPerformance shall follow.

[Exit.

MARINAAlack 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 meFor to seek my mother!BARDWhy lament you, pretty one?MARINAThat I am pretty.BAWDCome, the gods have done their part in you.MARINAI accuse them not.BAWDYou are light into my hands, where you are like to live.MARINAThe more my faultTo scape his hands where I was like to die.BAWDAy, and you shall live in pleasure.MARINANo.BAWDYes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all fashions: youshall fare well; you shall have the difference of all complexions.What! do you stop your ears?MARINAAre you a woman?BAWDWhat would you have me be, an I be not a woman?MARINAAn 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.MARINAThe 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.BAWDWe 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?BAWDWho, 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.

MARINAI 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, —BAWDThou mayst cut a morsel off the spit.BOULTI may so.BAWD. Who should deny it? Come young one, I like the manner of your garments well.BOULTAy, 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.BOULTI warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake the beds ofeels as my giving out her Beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined.I'll bring home some to-night.BAWDCome your ways; follow me.MARINAIf fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.Diana, aid my purpose!BAWDWhat 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.]

DIONYZAWhy, are you foolish? Can it be undone?CLEONO, Dionyza, such a piece of slaughterThe sun and moon ne'er look'd upon!DIONYZAI thinkYou'll turn a child agan.CLEONWere 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 princessTo equal any single crown o' the earthI' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine!Whom thou hast poison'd too:If thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindnessBecoming well thy fact: what canst thou sayWhen noble Pericles shall demand his child?DIONYZAThat 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.'CLEONO, go to. Well, well,Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the godsDo like this worst.DIONYZABe one of those that think.The petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence,And open this to Pericles. I do shameTo think of what a noble strain you are,And of how coward a spirit.CLEONTo such proceedingWhoever but his approbation added,Though not his prime consent, he did not flowFrom honourable sources,DIONYZABe 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 betweenHer and her fortunes: none would look on her,But cast their gazes on Marina's face;Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkinNot worth the time of day. It pierced me through;And though you call my course unnatural,You not your child well loving, yet I findIt greets me as an enterprise of kindnessPerform'd to your sole daughter.CLEONHeavens forgive it!DIONYZAAnd as for Pericles,What should he say? We wept after her hearse,And yet we mourn: her monumentIs almost finish'd, and her epitaphsIn glittering golden characters expressA general praise to her, and care in usAt whose expense 'tis done.CLEONThou art like the harpy,Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face,Seize with thine eagle's talons.DIONYZAYou are like one that superstitiouslyDoth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies:But yet I know you'll do as I advise.

[Exeunt.]