I'd give it to undo the deed. O lady, I'the justice of compare! O villain Leonine, If thou hadst drunk to him, it had been a kindness Becoming well thy feat; what canst thou say, When noble Pericles shall demand his child? Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates, To foster it, nor ever to preserve. She died by night; I'll say so. Unless you play the impious innocent, Who can cross it? And for an honest attribute, cry out, Cle. O, go to. Well, well, Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods Dion. Be one of those, that think The petty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence, And open this to Pericles. I do shame To think of what a noble strain you are, And of how cow'd a spirit. Cle. To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, From honourable courses. Dion. Be it so then : Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead, Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. She did disdain 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 pierc'd me thorough; It greets me, as an enterprize of kindness, Cle. Heavens forgive it! Dion. And as for Pericles, What should he say? We wept after her hearse, Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs In glittering golden characters express Cle. Thou art like the harpy, Which, to betray, doth wear an angel's face, Dion. 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. Enter GOWER, before the monument of Marina at Tharsus. Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short; Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't; Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, Well-sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have brought Dumb show. Enter at one door, Pericles with his Train; Cleon and Dionyza at the other. Cleon shows Pericles the tomb of Marina; whereat Pericles makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Then Cleon and Dionyza retire. Gow. 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 Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears, By wicked Dionyza. [Reads the inscription on Marina's monument. The fairest, sweet'st, and best, lies here, 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 villainy, 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 scenes display His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day, In her unholy service. Patience then, And think you now are all in Mitylen. [Exit. SCENE V.-Mitylene. A street before the Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like? 2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone. 1 Gent. But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a thing? 2 Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdyhouses: Shall we go hear the vestals sing? 1 Gent. 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 Pander, Bawd, and Boult. Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her, she had ne'er come here. Bawd. Fye, fye upon her; she is 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 all our swearers priests. Pand. 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. We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish baggage would but give way to customers. Enter LYSIMACHUS. Lys. How now? how a dozen of virginities? Bawd. Now, the gods to-bless your honour! Boult. I am glad to see your honour in good health. Lys. You may so; 'tis the better for you that your resorters stand upon sound legs. How now, wholesome iniquity? Have you that a man may deal withal, and defy the surgeon? Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she wouldbut there never came her like in Mitylene. Lys. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, thou would'st say. Bawd. Your honour knows what 'tis to say, well enough, Lys. Well; call forth, call forth. Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but Lys. What, pr'ythee? Boult. O, sir, I can be modest. |