Enter GoWER.

Gow. Now sleep yslakéd 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 th' oven's mouth, As 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 shew's it to SIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to the former. Then enter THAISA with child, and LYCHORIDA. SIMONIDES shews his Daughter the letter; she rejoices: she and PERICLES take leave of her Father, and depart. Then SIMONIDES, &c., retire.

Gow. By many a dearn and painful perch, Of Pericles the careful search By the four opposing coignes, 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 strong inquire) To the court of King Simonides Are letters brought, the tenour these:

Antiochus and his daughter's dead;
The men of Tyrus, on the head
Of Helicanus would set on

The crown of Tyre, but he will none.

The mutiny there he hastes t' appease;
Says to them, if King Pericles

Come not, in twice six moons, home,

He, obedient to their doom,

Will take the crown. The sum of this,
Brought hither to Pentapolis,
Y-ravished the regions round,

And every one with claps 'gan sound,
"Our heir apparent is a king;
Who dreamed, 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 grizzled 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,
Doth 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 prince appears to speak.

[Exit.

Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble
Sulphureous flashes!-O how, Lychorida,
How does my queen ?-Thou storm, thou, vene-
mously

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!-Now, Lychorida-

Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant.
Lyc. 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 arms this piece of your dead queen.
Per. How how, Lychorida?

Lyc. 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.

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
Vie honour with yourselves.

Lyc. Patience, good sir, even for this charge,
Per. Now, mild may be thy life;
For a more blust'rous birth had never babe:
Quiet and gentle thy conditions,

For thou 'rt the rudeliest welcomed to this world
That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows!
Thou 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 it!

Enter two Sailors.

1st Sail. What courage, sir? God save you. Per. Courage enough. I do not fear the flaw; It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love Of this poor infant, this fresh new seafarer, I would it would be quiet.

1st Sail. Slack the bolins there; thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow and split thyself.

2nd Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon I care not.

1st Sail. 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.

Per. That's your superstition.

1st Sail. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it still hath been observed; and we are strong in earnest. Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.

Per. Be it as you think meet.-Most wretched queen!

Lyc. Here she lies, sir.

Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had my dear;

No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements
Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time

To give thee hallowed to thy grave, but straight
Must cast thee, scarcely coffined, in the ooze;
Where for a monument upon thy bones
And aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale,
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells.-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
whiles I say

Upon the pillow; hie thee,

A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. [Exit LYCHORIDA.

2nd Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready. Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say, what coast is this?

2nd Sail. We are near Tharsus.

Per. Thither, gentle mariner,

Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?

2nd Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease. Per. O make for Tharsus.

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.

SCENE II.-Ephesus.

[Exeunt.

A Room in CERIMON'S House.

Enter CERIMON, a Servant, and some persons who have been shipwrecked.

Cer. Philemon, ho!

Enter PHILEMON.

Phil. Doth my lord call?

Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men: It hath been a turbulent and stormy night. Serv. I have been in many; but such a night as this

Till now I ne'er endured.

Cer. Your master will be dead ere you return; There's nothing can be ministered to nature That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary, And tell me how it works. [TO PHILEMON. [Exeunt PHILEMON, Servant, and those who had been shipwrecked.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1st Gent. Good morrow, sir.

2nd Gent. Good morrow to your lordship. Cer. Gentlemen, why do you stir so early? 1st Gent. 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.

2nd Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so early;

'Tis not our husbandry.

Cer. O you say well.

1st Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship, Having rich tire about you, should at these early hours

Shake off the golden slumber of repose.

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 practise) 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 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.

2nd Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus poured forth

Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restored:
And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even
Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as time shall never-

(If e'er this coffin drive a-land),

I, King Pericles, have lost

This queen, worth all our mundane cost.
Who finds her, give her burying,

She was the daughter of a king:
Besides this treasure for a fee,
The gods requite his charity!"

If thou liv 'st Pericles, thou hast a heart
That even cracks for woe!-This chanced to-night.
2nd Gent. Most likely, sir.
Cer.

Nay, certainly to-night;
For look how fresh she looks! They were too

rough

That threw her in the sea. Make fire within;
Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet.
Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The overpressed spirits. I have heard
Of an Egyptian had nine hours lien dead,
By good appliance was recovered.

Enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire. Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.The rough and woful music that we have, Cause it to sound, 'beseech you.

The vial once more.-How, thou stirr'st, thou block!

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 shipped at sea I well remember,
Even on my yearning time; but whether there
Delivered or no, 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.

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

Enter GOWER.

Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre,
Welcomed to his own desire.
His woful queen leave at Ephess,
To Dian there a votaress.

Now to Marina bend your mind,
Whom our fast growing scene must find
At Tharsus, and by Cleon trained
In music, letters; who hath gained
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 fight; 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 neeld 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 wingéd 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.-Tharsus. An open Place, near the Sea-shore.

Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE.

Dion. Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do it;

"Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
Thou canst not do a thing i'the world so soon,
To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,
Which is but cold, inflame love in 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'll do 't; but yet she is a goodly creature. Dion. The fitter then the gods should have her.

Here weeping she comes for her old nurse's death. Thou art resolved?

Leon. I am resolved.

Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers. Mar. No, 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 chaplet, hang upon thy grave,
While summer days do last. Ah 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.

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, come;
Give me your wreath of flowers ere the sea mar it.
Walk forth with Leonine: the air is quick there,
Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come,-
Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.