ACT III.

Enter GOWER.

Gower. Now sleep yslaked 1 hath the rout;
No din but snores, the house about,
Made louder by the o'erfed 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 the 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,

Vith your fine fancies quaintly eche.2
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 shows it to Simonides; the Lords kneel to the former. Then enter Thaisa with child, and Lychorida. Simonides shows his daughter the letter: she rejoices: she and

Pericles take leave of her father, and depart. Then Simonides, &c. retire.

Gower. By many a dearn 1 and painful perch, Of Pericles the careful search, By the four opposing coignes,3 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 tenor 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 to oppress,
Says to them, if king Pericles

Come not home in twice six moons,

He, obedient to their dooms,

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 dream'd, who thought of such a thing?

1 Lonely.

A perch is a measure of five yards and a half

3 Corners.

4 Assist the search.

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 mood1
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! 2
Doth fall in travail with her fear:
And what ensues in this fell storm,
Shall, for itself, itself perform.
I nill 3 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-toss'd Pericles appears to speak. [Exit.

1 Disposition.

2 An exclamation equivalent to Welladay.

* I shall not.

SCENE I.

Enter PERICLES, on a ship at sea.

Per. Thou God of this great vast,1 rebuke these

surges,

Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that

hast

Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, Having call'd them from the deep! O, still thy deafening,

Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble, Sulphureous flashes!-O, how, Lychorida,

How does my queen? Thou storm, thou! venomously

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.

Lych. 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.

This wide expanse.

2 Thought.

Per. How, how, Lychorida?

Lych. 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.

Per.

O you gods!

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

Use honor with you.1

Lych.

Patience, good sir,

Even for this charge.

Per.

Now, mild may be thy life!

For a more blusterous 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,2
With all thou canst find here.-Now the good gods
Throw their best eyes upon it!

Enter TWO SAILORS.

1 Sail. What courage, sir? God save you.

1 Contend with you in honor.

2 Than thy safe arrival at the port of life can counterbalance.