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 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 fight; this maid
Hight Philoten: and it is said
For certain in our story, she

Would ever with Marina be:

Be't when she weav'd 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 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.-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 resolv'd?

Leon. I am resolv'd.

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 chang'd
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.
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 ta'en
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.

Leon. I warrant you, madam.

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

Mar. Thanks, sweet madam.

Is this wind westerly that blows?
Leon. South-west.

[Exit Dionyza.

Mar. When I was born, the wind was north.
Leon. Was't so?

Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear,
But cry'd, good seamen! to the sailors, galling
His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes;
And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea

That almost burst the deck, and from the laddertackle

Wash'd off a canvas-climber: Ha! says one,

Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry,

They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, The master calls, and trebles their confusion.

Leon. And when was this?

Mar. It was, when I was born:

Never was waves nor wind more violent.
Leon. Come, say your prayers speedily.
Mar. What mean you?

Leon. If you require a little space for

I grant it: Pray; but be not tedious,

prayer,

For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn

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, my life;

I never did her hurt in all

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,
Wherein my death might yield her profit, or
My life imply her danger?

Leon. My commission

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

Mar. 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.

Leon. I am sworn,

And will despatch.

Enter Pirates, whilst Marina is struggling.

1 Pirate. Hold, villain!

2 Pirate. A prize! a prize!

[Leonine runs away.

3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's

have her aboard suddenly.

[Exeunt Pirates with Marina.

SCENE II.-The same.

Re-enter LEONINE.

Leon. These roving thieves serve the great pirate Valdes;

And they have seiz'd Marina. Let her go:

There's no hope she'll 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,