Act III. Scene III.


Tarsus. A Room in CLEON’S House.
   
 
Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA, with MARINA in her arms.
   
  Per.  Most honour’d Cleon, I must needs be gone;   
My twelve months are expir’d, and Tyrus stands      4
In a litigious peace. You and your lady   
Take from my heart all thankfulness; the gods   
Make up the rest upon you!   
  Cle.  Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,      8
Yet glance full wanderingly on us.   
  Dion.        O your sweet queen!   
That the strict fates had pleas’d you had brought her hither,   
To have bless’d mine eyes with her!     12
  Per.        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,     16
For she was born at sea, I have nam’d so—here   
I charge your charity withal, and leave her   
The infant of your care, beseeching you   
To give her princely training, that she may be     20
Manner’d as she is born.   
  Cle.        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—     24
Must in your child be thought on. If neglection   
Should therein make me vile, the common body,   
By you reliev’d, would force me to my duty;   
But if to that my nature need a spur,     28
The gods revenge it upon me and mine,   
To the end of generation!   
  Per.        I believe you;   
Your honour and your goodness teach me to ’t,     32
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.     36
Good madam, make me blessed in your care   
In bringing up my child.   
  Dion.        I have one myself,   
Who shall not be more dear to my respect     40
Than yours, my lord.   
  Per.        Madam, my thanks and prayers.   
  Cle.  We’ll bring your Grace e’en to the edge o’ the shore;   
Then give you up to the mask’d Neptune and     44
The gentlest winds of heaven.   
  Per.        I will embrace   
Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O! no tears,   
Lychorida, no tears:     48
Look to your little mistress, on whose grace   
You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord.  [Exeunt.

Act III. Scene IV.


Ephesus. A Room in CERIMON’S House.
   
 
Enter CERIMON and THAISA.
   
  Cer.  Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,   
Lay with you in your coffer; which are now      4
At your command. Know you the character?   
  Thai.  It is my lord’s.   
That I was shipp’d at sea, I well remember,   
Even on my eaning time; but whether there      8
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,     12
And never more have joy.   
  Cer.  Madam, if this you purpose as you speak,   
Diana’s temple is not distant far,   
Where you may abide till your date expire.     16
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.     20

Act IV. Prologue.


Enter GOWER.
   
Imagine Pericles arriv’d at Tyre,   
Welcom’d and settled to his own desire.   
His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus,      4
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      8
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!     12
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     16
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     20
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     24
The cambric, which she made more sound   
By hurting it; when to the lute   
She sung, and made the night-bird mute,   
That still records with moan; or when     28
She would with rich and constant pen   
Vail to her mistress Dian; still   
This Philoten contends in skill   
With absolute Marina: so     32
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     36
In Philoten all graceful marks,   
That Cleon’s wife, with envy rare,   
A present murderer does prepare   
For good Marina, that her daughter     40
Might stand peerless by this slaughter.   
The sooner her vile thoughts to stead,   
Lychorida, our nurse, is dead:   
And cursed Dionyza hath     44
The pregnant instrument of wrath   
Prest for this blow. The unborn event   
I do commend to your content:   
Only I carry winged time     48
Post on the lame feet of my rime;   
Which never could I so convey,   
Unless your thoughts went on my way.   
Dionyza doth appear,     52
With Leonine, a murderer.  [Exit.

Act IV. Scene I.


Tarsus. An open Place near the Sea-shore.
   
 
Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE.
   
  Dion.  Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do ’t:   
’Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.      4
Thou canst not do a thing i’ 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      8
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     12
She comes weeping for her only mistress’ death.   
Thou art resolv’d?   
  Leon        I am resolv’d.   
 
Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers.
     16
  Mar.  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,     20
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.     24
  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     28
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,     32
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;     36
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,     40
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     44
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;     48
But yet I have no desire to it.   
  Dion.   Come, come, I know ’tis good for you.   
Walk half an hour, Leonine, at least.   
Remember what I have said.     52
  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 care of you.     56
  Mar.        My thanks, sweet madam.  [Exit DIONYZA.   
Is this wind westerly that blows?   
  Leon.        South-west.   
  Mar.  When I was born, the wind was north.     60
  Leon.        Was ’t so?   
  Mar.  My father, as nurse said, did never fear,   
But cried ‘Good seamen!’ to the sailors, galling   
His kingly hands haling ropes;     64
And, clasping to the mast, endur’d a sea   
That almost burst the deck.   
  Leon.  When was this?   
  Mar.  When I was born:     68
Never were 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     72
From stem to stern; the boatswain whistles, and   
The master calls, and trebles their confusion.   
  Leon.  Come; say your prayers.   
  Mar.  What mean you?     76
  Leon.  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.     80
  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,     84
I never did her hurt in all my life.   
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;     88
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?     92
  Leon.  My commission   
Is not to reason of the deed, but do ’t.   
  Mar.  You will not do ’t for all the world, I hope.   
You are well favour’d, and your looks foreshow     96
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,    100
And save poor me, the weaker.   
  Leon.        I am sworn,   
And will dispatch.   
 
Enter Pirates, whilst MARINA is struggling.
    104
  First Pirate.  Hold, villain!  [LEONINE runs away.   
  Sec. Pirate.  A prize! a prize!   
  Third Pirate.  Half-part, mates, half-part.   
Come, let’s have her aboard suddenly.  [Exeunt Pirates with MARINA.    108
 
Re-enter LEONINE.
   
  Leon.  These roguing 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,    112
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.    116

Act IV. Scene II.


Mitylene. A Room in a Brothel.
   
 
Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT.
   
  Pand.  Boult.   
  Boult.  Sir?      4
  Pand.  Search the market narrowly; Mitylene 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.   
  Pand.  Therefore, let’s have fresh ones, whate’er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall never prosper.   
  Bawd.  Thou sayst true; ’tis not the bringing up of poor bastards, as, I think, I have brought up some eleven—      8
  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 blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden.   
  Pand.  Thou sayst 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.     12
  Pand.  Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over.   
  Bawd.  Why to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are old?   
  Pand.  O! our credit comes not in like the commodity, nor the commodity wages not with the danger; therefore, 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, other sorts offend as well as we.     16
  Pand.  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.  Come your ways. My masters, you say she’s a virgin?   
  First Pirate.  O! sir, we doubt it not.     20
  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 good clothes; there’s no further necessity of qualities can make her be refused.   
  Bawd.  What’s her price, Boult?     24
  Boult.  I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces.   
  Pand.  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 maiden-head were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done as I command you.   
  Boult.  Performance shall follow.  [Exit.     28
  Mar.  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!     32
  Bawd.  Why lament you, pretty one?   
  Mar.  That I am pretty.   
  Bawd.  Come, the gods have done their part in you.   
  Mar.  I accuse them not.     36
  Bawd.  You are lit into my hands, where you are like to live.   
  Mar.  The more my fault   
To ’scape his hands where I was like to die.   
  Bawd.  Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.     40
  Mar.  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?   
  Mar.  Are you a woman?   
  Bawd.  What would you have me be, an I be not a woman?     44
  Mar.  An honest woman, or not a woman.   
  Bawd.  Marry, whip thee, gosling; I think I shall have something to do with you. Come, you are a young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have you.   
  Mar.  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.     48
 
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 yonger sort?     52
  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?     56
  Boult.  Ay; 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.   
  Bawd.  [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; to 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.     60
  Mar.  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 sayst 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,—     64
  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.     68
  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.   
  Mar.  If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,     72
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.     76

Act IV. Scene III.


Tarsus. A Room in CLEON’S House.
   
 
Enter CLEON and DIONYZA.
   
  Dion.  Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone?   
  Cle.  O Dionyza! such a piece of slaughter      4
The sun and moon ne’er look’d upon.   
  Dion.        I think   
You’ll turn a child again.   
  Cle.  Were I chief lord of all this spacious world,      8
I’d give it to undo the deed. O 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!     12
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?     16
  Dion  That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates,   
To foster it, nor ever to preserve.   
She died at night; I’ll say so. Who can cross it?   
Unless you play the pious innocent,     20
And for an honest attribute cry out   
‘She died by foul play.’   
  Cle.         O! go to. Well, well,   
Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods     24
Do like this worst.   
  Dion.        Be one of those that think   
The pretty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence,   
And open this to Pericles. I do shame     28
To think of what a noble strain you are,   
And of how coward a spirit.   
  Cle.        To such proceeding   
Who ever but his approbation added,     32
Though not his prime consent, he did not flow   
From honourable sources.   
  Dion.        Be it so, then;   
Yet none does know but you how she came dead,     36
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,     40
Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin   
Not worth the time of day. It pierc’d me thorough;   
And though you call my course unnatural,   
You not your child well loving, yet I find     44
It greets me as an enterprise of kindness   
Perform’d to your sole daughter.   
  Cle.        Heavens forgive it!   
  Dion.  And as for Pericles,     48
What should he say? We wept after her hearse,   
And even yet we mourn; her monument   
Is almost finish’d, and her epitaphs   
In glittering golden characters express     52
A general praise to her, and care in us   
At whose expense ’tis done.   
  Cle.        Thou art like the harpy,   
Which, to betray, dost with thine angel’s face,     56
Seize with thine eagle’s talons.   
  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.     60

Act IV. Scene IV.


Before the Monument of MARINA at Tarsus.
   
 
Enter GOWER.
   
Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short;   
Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for ’t;      4
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      8
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,     12
Attended on by many a lord and knight,   
To see his daughter, all his life’s delight.   
Old Helicanus goes along. Behind   
Is left to govern it, you bear in mind,     16
Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late   
Advanc’d in time to great and high estate.   
Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought   
This king to Tarsus, think his pilot thought,     20
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.     24
 
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. Exeunt CLEON and DIONYZA.
   
See how belief may suffer by foul show!   
This borrow’d passion stands for true old woe;     28
And Pericles, in sorrow all devour’d,   
With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o’er-shower’d,   
Leaveo Tarsus and again embarks. He swears   
Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs;     32
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     36
By wicked Dionyza.  [Reads 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,     40
  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,     44
  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     48
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     52
His daughter’s woe and heavy well-a-day   
In her unholy service. Patience then,   
And think you now are all in Mitylen.  [Exit.   

Act IV. Scene V.


Mitylene. A Street before the Brothel.
   
 
Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen.
   
  First Gent.  Did you ever hear the like?   
  Sec. Gent.  No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone.      4
  First Gent.  But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a thing?   
  Sec. Gent.  No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses. Shall’s go hear the vestals sing?   
  First Gent.  I’ll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road of rutting for ever.  [Exeunt.   

Act V. Prologue.


 
Enter GOWER.
   
Marina thus the brothel ’scapes, and chances   
Into an honest house, our story says.   
She sings like one immortal, and she dances      4
As goddess-like to her admired lays;   
Deep clerks she dumbs; and with her neeld composes   
Nature’s own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry,   
That even her art sisters the natural roses;      8
Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry;   
That pupils lacks she none of noble race,   
Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain   
She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place;     12
And to her father turn our thoughts again,   
Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost,   
Whence, driven before the winds, he is arriv’d   
Here where his daughter dwells: and on this coast     16
Suppose him now at anchor. The city striv’d   
God Neptune’s annual feast to keep; from whence   
Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies,   
His banners sable, trimm’d with rich expense;     20
And to him in his barge with fervour hies.   
In your supposing once more put your sight   
Of heavy Pericles; think this his bark:   
Where what is done in action, more, if might,     24
Shall be discover’d; please you, sit and hark.  [Exit.   

Act V. Scene I.


On board PERICLES’ Ship, off Mitylene. A Pavilion on deck, with a curtain before it; PERICLES within it, reclined on a couch. A barge lying beside the Tyrian vessel.
   
 
Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian vessel, the other to the barge; to them HELICANUS.
   
  Tyr. Sail.  [To the Sailor of Mitylene.] Where’s the Lord Helicanus? he can resolve you.   
O! here he is.—      4
Sir, there’s a barge put off from Mitylene,   
And in it is Lysimachus, the governor,   
Who craves to come aboard. What is your will?   
  Hel.  That he have his. Call up some gentlemen.      8
  Tyr. Sail.  Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls.   
 
Enter two or three Gentlemen.
   
  First Gent.  Doth your lordship call?   
  Hel.  Gentlemen, there’s some of worth would come aboard;     12
I pray ye, greet them fairly.  [Gentlemen and Sailors descend, and go on board the barge.   
 
Enter from thence, LYSIMACHUS and Lords; the Gentlemen and the two Sailors.
   
  Tyr. Sail.  Sir,   
This is the man that can, in aught you would,     16
Resolve you.   
  Lys.  Hail, reverend sir! The gods preserve you!   
  Hel.  And you, sir, to outlive the age I am,   
And die as I would do.     20
  Lys.        You wish me well.   
Being on shore, honouring of Neptune’s triumphs,   
Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us,   
I made to it to know of whence you are.     24
  Hel.  First, what is your place?   
  Lys.  I am the governor of this place you lie before.   
  Hel.  Sir,   
Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king;     28
A man who for this three months hath not spoken   
To any one, nor taken sustenance   
But to prorogue his grief.   
  Lys.  Upon what ground is his distemperature?     32
  Hel.  ’Twould be too tedious to repeat;   
But the main grief springs from the loss   
Of a beloved daughter and a wife.   
  Lys.  May we not see him?     36
  Hel.  You may;   
But bootless is your sight: he will not speak   
To any.   
  Lys.  Yet let me obtain my wish.     40
  Hel.  Behold him. [PERICLES discovered.] This was a goodly person,   
Till the disaster that, one mortal night,   
Drove him to this.   
  Lys.  Sir king, all hail! the gods preserve you!     44
Hail, royal sir!   
  Hel.  It is in vain; he will not speak to you.   
  First Lord.  Sir,   
We have a maid in Mitylene, I durst wager,     48
Would win some words of him.   
  Lys.        ’Tis well bethought.   
She questionless with her sweet harmony   
And other chosen attractions, would allure,     52
And make a battery through his deafen’d ports   
Which now are midway stopp’d:   
She is all happy as the fair’st of all,   
And with her fellow maids is now upon     56
The leafy shelter that abuts against   
The island’s side.  [Whispers first Lord, who puts off in the barge of LYSIMACHUS.   
  Hel.  Sure, all’s effectless; yet nothing we’ll omit,   
That bears recovery’s name. But, since your kindness     60
We have stretch’d thus far, let us beseech you,   
That for our gold we may provision have,   
Wherein we are not destitute for want,   
But weary for the staleness.     64
  Lys.        O! sir, a courtesy,   
Which if we should deny, the most just gods   
For every graff would send a caterpillar,   
And so afflict our province. Yet once more     68
Let me entreat to know at large the cause   
Of your king’s sorrow.   
  Hel.        Sit, sir, I will recount it to you;   
But see, I am prevented.     72
 
Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with MARINA, and a young Lady.
   
  Lys.        O! here is   
The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one!   
Is ’t not a goodly presence?     76
  Hel.        She’s a gallant lady.   
  Lys.  She’s such a one, that were I well assur’d   
Came of a gentle kind and noble stock,   
I’d wish no better choice, and think me rarely wed.     80
Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty   
Expect even here, where is a kingly patient:   
If that thy prosperous and artificial feat   
Can draw him but to answer thee in aught,     84
Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay   
As thy desires can wish.   
  Mar.        Sir, I will use   
My utmost skill in his recovery,     88
Provided   
That none but I and my companion maid   
Be suffer’d to come near him.   
  Lys.        Come, let us leave her;     92
And the gods make her prosperous!  [MARINA sings.   
  Lys.  Mark’d he your music?   
  Mar.        No, nor look’d on us.   
  Lys.  See, she will speak to him.     96
  Mar.  Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear.   
  Per.  Hum! ha!   
  Mar.  I am a maid,   
My lord, that ne’er before invited eyes,    100
But have been gaz’d on like a comet; she speaks,   
My lord, that, may be, hath endur’d a grief   
Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh’d.   
Though wayward Fortune did malign my state,    104
My derivation was from ancestors   
Who stood equivalent with mighty kings;   
But time hath rooted out my parentage,   
And to the world and awkward casualties    108
Bound me in servitude.—[Aside.] I will desist;   
But there is something glows upon my cheek,   
And whispers in mine ear, ‘Go not till he speak.’   
  Per.  My fortunes—parentage—good parentage—    112
To equal mine!—was it not thus? what say you?   
  Mar.  I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage,   
You would not do me violence.   
  Per.  I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me.    116
You are like something that—What country-woman?   
Here of these shores?   
  Mar.        No, nor of any shores;   
Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am    120
No other than I appear.   
  Per.  I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.   
My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one   
My daughter might have been: my queen’s square brows;    124
Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight;   
As silver-voic’d; her eyes as jewel-like,   
And cas’d as richly; in pace another Juno;   
Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry,    128
The more she gives them speech. Where do you live?   
  Mar.  Where I am but a stranger; from the deck   
You may discern the place.   
  Per.        Where were you bred?    132
And how achiev’d you these endowments, which   
You make more rich to owe?   
  Mar.  Should I tell my history, it would seem   
Like lies, disdain’d in the reporting.    136
  Per.  Prithee, speak;   
Falseness cannot come from thee, for thou look’st   
Modest as justice, and thou seem’st a palace   
For the crown’d truth to dwell in. I believe thee,    140
And make my senses credit thy relation   
To points that seem impossible; for thou lookest   
Like one I lov’d indeed. What were thy friends?   
Didst thou not say when I did push thee back,—    144
Which was when I perceiv’d thee,—that thou cam’st   
From good descending?   
  Mar.        So indeed I did.   
  Per.  Report thy parentage. I think thou saidst    148
Thou hadst been toss’d from wrong to injury,   
And that thou thought’st thy griefs might equal mine,   
If both were open’d.   
  Mar.        Some such thing    152
I said, and said no more but what my thoughts   
Did warrant me was likely.   
  Per.        Tell thy story;   
If thine consider’d prove the thousandth part    156
Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I   
Have suffer’d like a girl; yet thou dost look   
Like Patience gazing on kings’ graves, and smiling   
Extremity out of act. What were thy friends?    160
How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin?   
Recount, I do beseech thee. Come, sit by me.   
  Mar.  My name is Marina.   
  Per.        O! I am mock’d,    164
And thou by some incensed god sent hither   
To make the world to laugh at me.   
  Mar.        Patience, good sir,   
Or here I’ll cease.    168
  Per.        Nay, I’ll be patient.   
Thou little know’st how thou dost startle me,   
To call thyself Marina.   
  Mar.        The name    172
Was given me by one that had some power;   
My father, and a king.   
  Per.        How! a king’s daughter?   
And call’d Marina?    176
  Mar.        You said you would believe me;   
But, not to be a troubler of your peace,   
I will end here.   
  Per.        But are you flesh and blood?    180
Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy?   
Motion!—Well; speak on. Where were you born?   
And wherefore call’d Marina?   
  Mar.        Call’d Marina    184
For I was born at sea.   
  Per.        At sea! what mother?   
  Mar.  My mother was the daughter of a king;   
Who died the minute I was born,    188
As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft   
Deliver’d weeping.   
  Per.        O! stop there a little.   
This is the rarest dream that e’er dull sleep    192
Did mock sad fools withal; this cannot be.   
My daughter’s buried. Well; where were you bred?   
I’ll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,   
And never interrupt you.    196
  Mar.  You’ll scorn to believe me; ’twere best I did give o’er.   
  Per.  I will believe you by the syllable   
Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave:   
How came you in these parts? where were you bred?    200
  Mar.  The king my father did in Tarsus leave me,   
Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,   
Did seek to murder me; and having woo’d   
A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do ’t,    204
A crew of pirates came and rescu’d me;   
Brought me to Mitylene. But, good sir,   
Whither will you have me? Why do you weep? It may be   
You think me an impostor; no, good faith;    208
I am the daughter to King Pericles,   
If good King Pericles be.   
  Per.  Ho, Helicanus!   
  Hel.  Calls my lord?    212
  Per.  Thou art a grave and noble counsellor,   
Most wise in general; tell me, if thou canst,   
What this maid is, or what is like to be,   
That thus hath made me weep?    216
  Hel.        I know not; but   
Here is the regent, sir, of Mitylene,   
Speaks nobly of her.   
  Lys.        She never would tell    220
Her parentage; being demanded that,   
She would sit still and weep.   
  Per.  O Helicanus! strike me, honour’d sir;   
Give me a gash, put me to present pain,    224
Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me   
O’erbear the shores of my mortality,   
And drown me with their sweetness. O! come hither,   
Thou that begett’st him that did thee beget;    228
Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus,   
And found at sea again. O Helicanus!   
Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as loud   
As thunder threatens us; this is Marina.    232
What was thy mother’s name? tell me but that,   
For truth can never be confirm’d enough,   
Though doubts did ever sleep.   
  Mar.        First, sir, I pray,    236
What is your title?   
  Per.  I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now   
My drown’d queen’s name, as in the rest you said   
Thou hast been god-like perfect;    240
Thou’rt heir of kingdoms, and another life   
To Pericles thy father.   
  Mar.  Is it no more to be your daughter than   
To say my mother’s name was Thaisa?    244
Thaisa was my mother, who did end   
The minute I began.   
  Per.  Now, blessing on thee! rise; thou art my child,   
Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus;    248
She is not dead at Tarsus, as she should have been,   
By savage Cleon; she shall tell thee all;   
When thou shalt kneel, and justify in knowledge   
She is thy very princess. Who is this?    252
  Hel.  Sir, ’tis the governor of Mitylene,   
Who, hearing of your melancholy state,   
Did come to see you.   
  Per.        I embrace you.    256
Give me my robes. I am wild in my beholding.   
O heavens! bless my girl. But, hark! what music?   
Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him   
O’er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt,    260
How sure you are my daughter. But, what music?   
  Hel.  My lord, I hear none.   
  Per.  None!   
The music of the spheres! List, my Marina.    264
  Lys.  It is not good to cross him; give him way.   
  Per.  Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear?   
  Lys.  My lord, I hear.  [Music.   
  Per.        Most heavenly music:    268
It nips me unto list’ning, and thick slumber   
Hangs upon mine eyes; let me rest.  [Sleeps.   
  Lys.  A pillow for his head.   
So, leave him all. Well, my companion friends,    272
If this but answer to my just belief,   
I’ll well remember you.  [Exeunt all but PERICLES.   
 
DIANA appears to PERICLES as in a vision.
   
  Dia.  My temple stands in Ephesus; hie thee thither,    276
And do upon mine altar sacrifice.   
There, when my maiden priests are met together,   
Before the people all,   
Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife;    280
To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter’s, call   
And give them repetition to the life.   
Perform my bidding, or thou liv’st in woe;   
Do it, and happy; by my silver bow!    284
Awake, and tell thy dream!  [Disappears.   
  Per.  Celestial Dian, goddess argentine,   
I will obey thee! Helicanus!   
 
Enter HELICANUS, LYSIMACHUS, and MARINA.
    288
  Hel.        Sir?   
  Per.  My purpose was for Tarsus, there to strike   
The inhospitable Cleon: but I am   
For other service first: toward Ephesus    292
Turn our blown sails; eftsoons I’ll tell thee why.   
[To LYSIMACHUS.] Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore,   
And give you gold for such provision   
As our intents will need?    296
  Lys.  Sir,   
With all my heart; and when you come ashore,   
I have another suit.   
  Per.        You shall prevail,    300
Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems   
You have been noble towards her.   
  Lys.        Sir, lend me your arm.   
  Per.  Come, my Marina.  [Exeunt.    304