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Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease.
A twelvemonth longer, let me then entreat you
To forbear choice i'the absence of your king;
If in which time expir'd, he not return,
I shall with aged patience bear your yoke.
But if I cannot win you to this love;

Go search like noblemen, like noble subjects,
And in your search spend your adventurous worth;
Whom if you find, and win unto return,
You shall like diamonds sit about his crown.

1 Lord. To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield; And, since lord Helicane enjoineth us, We with our travels will endeavour it.

Hel. Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands;

When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.

[Exeunt. SCENE V.-Pentapolis. A room in the palace. Enter Simonides, reading a letter, the Knights meet him.

1 Knight. Good morrow to the good Simonides. Sim. Knights, from my daughter this I let you know,

That for this twelvemonth, she'll not undertake
A married life.

Her reason to herself is only known,
Which from herself by no means can I get.

2 Knight May we not get access to her, my lord? Sim. 'Faith, by no means; she hath so strictly tied her

To her chamber, that it is impossible.
One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery;||
This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd,
And on her virgin honour will not break it.

3 Knight. Though loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves.


Sim. So They're well despatch'd; now to my daughter's letter:

She tells me here, she'll wed the stranger knight,
Or never more to view nor day nor light.
Mistress, 'tis well, your choice agrees with mine;
I like that well:-nay, how absolute she's in't,
Not minding whether I dislike or no!
Well, I commend her choice;

And will no longer have it be delay'd.
Soft, here he comes :-I must dissemble it.

Enter Pericles.

Per. All fortune to the good Simonides! Sim. To you as much, sir! I am beholden to you, For your sweet music this last night: my ears, I do protest, were never better fed With such delightful pleasing harmony.

Per. It is your grace's pleasure to commend; Not my desert.


Sir, you are music's master.

Per. The worst of all her scholars, my good lord. Sim. Let me ask one thing. What do you think, sir, of My daughter? Per. As of a most virtuous princess. Sim. And she is fair too, is she not?"

Per. As a fair day in summer; wond'rous fair. Sim. My daughter, sir, thinks very well of you; Ay, so well, sir, that you must be her master, And she'll your scholar be; therefore, look to it. Per. Unworthy I to be her schoolmaster.

Sim. She thinks not so; peruse this writing else. Per. What's here!

A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre?

(1) Quenched.

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Per. By the gods, I have not, sir. Never did thought of mine levy offence; || Nor never did my actions yet commence A deed might gain her love, or your displeasure. Sim. Traitor, thou liest.


Per. Sim. Ay, traitor, sir. Per. Even in his throat (unless it be the king,) That calls me traitor, I return the lie.

Sim. Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage. [Aside. Per. My actions are as noble as my thoughts, That never relish'd of a base descent.

I came unto your court, for honour's cause,
And not to be a rebel to her state;
And he that otherwise accounts of me,
This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy.
Sim. No!-

Here comes my daughter, she can witness it.
Enter Thaisa.

Per. Then, as you are as virtuous as fair,
Resolve your angry father, if my tongue
Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe
To any syllable that made love to you?
Thai. Why, sir, say if you had,

Who takes offence at that would make me glad?
Sim. Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory?-
am glad of it with all my heart. [Aside.] I'll tame

I'll bring you in subjection.

Will you, not having my consent, bestow
Your love and your affections on a stranger?
(Who, for aught I know to the contrary,
Or think, may be as great in blood as I) [Aside.
Hear, therefore, mistress; frame your will to mine,→
And you, sir, hear you.-Either be rul'd by me,
Or I will make you-man and wife.-
Nay, come; your hands and lips must seal it too.-
And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy ;—
And for a further grief,-God give you joy!"
What, are you both pleas'd?

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Yes, if yon love me, Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters it. Sim. What, are you both agreed? Both. Yes, 'please your majesty. Sim. It pleaseth me so well, I'll see you wed; Then, with what haste you can, get you to bed. [Exeunt.


Enter Gower.

Gow. Now sleep yslaked! 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;1
What's dumb in show, I'll plain with speech.

Dumb show.

Having call'd them from the deep! O still thy


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

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Enter Pericles and Simonides at one door, with Attendants; a Messenger meets him, kneels, and Wilt thou spit all thyself?-The seaman's whistle gives Pericles a letter. Pericles shows it to Simon-Is as a whisper in the ears of death, ides; the Lords kneel to the former. Then enter Unheard.-Lychorida!-Lucina, Thaisa with child, and Lychorida. Simonides Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle shows his daughter the letler; she rejoices: she To those that cry by night, convey thy deity and Pericles take leave of her father, and de-Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs Of my queen's travails!-Now, Lychoridapart. Then Simonides, &c. retire.

Gow. By many a dearn2 and painful perch,3
Of Pericles the careful search,
By the four opposing coignes,4
Which the world together joins,
Is made, with all due diligence,

That horse, and sail, and high expense,
Can stead the quests. 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 erown 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 dream'd, 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 wo;)
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 mood6
Varies again; the grizzled north
Disgorges such a tempest forth,
That, as a duck for life that dives,

up and down the poor ship drives.
The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near !7
Doth fall in travail with her fear:
And what ensues in this fell storm,
Shall, for itself, itself perform.
I nill8 relate; action

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.
SCENE I-Enter Pericles, on a ship at sea.

Per. Thou God of this great vast,9 rebuke,these

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Enter Lychorida, with an infant.

Lyc. Here is a thing

Too young for such a place, who if it had
Conceit12 would die as I am like to do.
Take in your arms this piece of
Per. How! how, Lychorida!

your dead


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.


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

Vie honour13 with yourselves.

Even for this charge.


Patience, good sir,

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 welcom'd to this world,
That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows!
Thou hast as chiding14 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,15
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.
Per. Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw ;16
It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love
Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,
I would, it would be quiet.

1 Sail. Slack the bolins17 there; thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself.

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

1 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.

1 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

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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 hallow'd to thy grave, but straight

(11) The goddess of child-bearing.

(12) Thought. (13) Contend with you in honour.
(14) As noisy a one.

(15) Than thy entrance into life can requite.
(16) Blast.
(17) Bowlines, ropes of the sails

Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, 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
Upon the pillow; hie thee, whiles I say
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.
[Exit Lychorida.
2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches,
caulk'd and bitum'd ready.

Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say, what coast is

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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.

2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth

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

Enter two Servants with a chest.
Serv. So; lift there.

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Serv. Sir, even now Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest ; 'Tis of some wreck. Cer.

Whate'er it be,

Set 't down, let's look on it. 2 Gent. 'Tis like a coffin, sir. Cer. 'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight; If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold, It is a good constraint of fortune, that It belches upon us.

2 Gent. 'Tis so, my lord. Cer. How close 'tis caulk'd and bitum'd! Did the sea cast it up?

Serv. I never saw so huge a billow, sir, As toss'd it shore. upon Cer. Come, wrench it open; Soft, soft!it smells most sweetly in my sense.

2 Gent. A delicate odour.

Cer. As ever hit my nostril; so,-up with it. O you most potent god! what's here? a corse! 1 Gent. Most strange!

Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasur'd

With bags of spices full! A passport too!
Apollo, perfect me i'the characters!

Here I give to understand,

[Unfolds a scroll.


(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 wo!-This chanc'd to-night.
2 Gent. Most likely, sir.

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


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

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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

The music there.-I pray you, give her air :—

This queen will live nature awakes; a warmth
Breathes out of her; she hath not been entranc'd
Above five hours. See, how she 'gins to blow
Into life's flower again!

1 Gent.

The heavens, sir,

Through you, increase our wonder, and set up
Your fame for ever.


She is alive; behold,

Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels
Which Pericles hath lost,

Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;
The diamonds of a most praised water
Appear, to make the world twice rich. O live,
And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
Rare as you seem to be!
[She moves.
O dear Diana,
Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this?
2 Gent. Is not this strange?
1 Gent.

Most rare.
Hush, gentle neighbours;
Lend me your hands: to the next chamber bear her.
Get linen; now this matter must be look'd to,
For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come;
And Esculapius guide us!

[Exeunt, carrying Thaisa away. SCENE III.-Tharsus. A room in Cleon's house. Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, Lychorida, and Marina.

Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone;
My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus stands
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,

Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.


O your sweet queen That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought

her hither,

To have bless'd mine eyes!


The powers above us.

We cannot but obey
Could I rage and roar
As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end
Must be as 'tis. My babe Marina (whom,
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
Manner'd as she is born.

Fear not, my lord:
Your grace, that fed my country with your corn
(For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,)
Must in your child be thought on. If neglection
Should therein make me vile, the common body,2
By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty:
But if to that my nature need a spur,
The gods revenge it upon me and mine,
To the end of generation!

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I believe you;

Your honour and your goodness teach me credit,
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 will3 in't. So I take my leave.
Good madam, make me blessed in your care
In bringing up my child.
I have one myself,
Who shall not be more dear to my respect,
Than yours, my lord.

Madam, my thanks and prayers.

Cle. We'll bring your grace even to the edge
o'the shore;

Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune,4 and
The gentlest winds of heaven.

I will embrace
Your offer. Come, dear'st madam.-O, no tears,
Lychorida, no tears:

Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
You may depend hereafter.-Come, my lord.
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
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 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,
Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine
Where you may 'bide until your date expire.
Shall there attend you.

Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all;
Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.


Enter Gower.

Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre,
Welcom'd 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 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

(4) Insidious waves that wear a treacherous smile. Groaning. (6) Called. (7) Untwisted.

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 records2 with moan; or when
She would with rich and constant pen
Vail to her mistress Dian; still
This Philoten contends in skill
With absolute3 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 pregnant4 instrument of wrath

Prests 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.


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.


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Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers. Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus6 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,

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
young and old. Care not for me;


I can go home alone.


Well, I will go;

But yet I have no desire to it.

Dion. Come, come, I know 'tis good for you. Waik 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.


Thanks, sweet madam.-
[Exit Dionyza

Is this wind westerly that blows?
Mar. When I was born, the wind was north.
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 ladder-

Wash'd off a canvas-climber :9 Ha! says one,
Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry,
They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain whis-

The master calls, and trebles their confusion.
Leon. And when was this?

It was when I was born:

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


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, I never did her hurt in all my life;

I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn

While summer days do last. Ah me! poor maid, To any living creature: believe me, la,

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

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 wo! 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.

(1) Needle. (2) Sings.
(3) Accomplished, perfect.
(5) Ready.

(4) Prepared.

The earth. (7) Countenance, look.

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?


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.

(8) i. e. Ere the sea, by the coming in of the tide, mar your walk.

(9) A ship-boy.

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