Nature should be so conversant with pain, Being thereto not compell'd.

Cer. I held it ever,

Virtue and cunning were endowments greater
Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs
May the two latter darken and expend;
But immortality attends the former,
Making a man a god. "Tis known, I ever
Have studied physic, through which secret art,
By turning o'er authorities, I have
(Together with my practice,) made familiar
To me and to my aid, the blest infusions
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
And I can speak of the disturbances
That nature works, and of her cures; which

gives me

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

(If e'er this coffin drive a-land,) 1, king Pericles, have lost

[Reads.

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 woe!-This chanc'd to-
night.

2 Gent. Most likely, Sir.

Cer. Nay, certainly to-night;

For look, how fresh she looks!-They were too rough, That threw her in the sea. * Knowledge.

Make fire within;

+ Worldly.

Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet.
Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
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.
The rough and woful music that we have,
Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.-
Cause it to sound, 'beseech you.

The vial once more;-How thou stirr'st, thou block!

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

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!

Through you, increase our wonder, and set up
1 Gent. The heavens, Sir,
Your fame for ever.

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

Cer. She's alive; behold,

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!
Thai. O dear Diana,

[She moves.

Where am I? Where's my lord? What world

gone;

[stands My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness! The Make up the rest upon you! [gods

Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,

Yet glance full wand'ringly 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!

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 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.

By bright Diana, whom we honour all, Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain, Though I show will in't. So I take my leave. 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,
Than yours, my lord.

Per. 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,‡ and The gentlest winds of heaven.

Per. I will embrace

[tears,

Your offer. Come, dear'st madam.-V, no
Lychorida, no tears:

Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
You may depend hereafter.-Come, my lord.
[Exeunt.
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 yearnings 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
Diana's temple is not distant far, [speak,
Where you may 'bide until your date expire.
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.

ACT IV.

Enter GOWER.

Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre, Welcom'd to his own desire. His woful queen leave at Ephess. To Dian there a votaress.

[Exeunt.

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
Veil 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.

chang'd

With this unprofitable woe! Come, come; Give me your wreath of flowers. Ere the sea mar it, [there, Walk forth with Leonine;t the air is quick 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 Our paragon to all reports, thus blasted, [find 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.
Mur. Thanks, sweet madam.-

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

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 lad-
der-tackle

Wash'd off a canvas-climber:t 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

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.

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,
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:
I trod upon a worm against my will,
But I wept for it. How have I offended,

Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. Mar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope. [show You are well-favour'd, and your looks foreYou 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.

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
Not carry her aboard. If she remain, [her,
Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be
slain.
[Exit.

SCENE III.-Mitylene.-A Room in a
Brothel.

Enter PANDER, BAWD, and Boult.
Pund. Boult.
Boult. Sir.

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 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 us'd in every trade, we shall never prosper.

Bawd. Thou say'st true: 'tis not the bring. ing up of poor bastards, as I think I have brought up some eleven

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 say'st true; they are too unwholesome o'conscience. The poor Transilvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.

Boult. Ay, she quickly poop'd him; she made him roast meat for worms:-but I'll go search the market. [Exit BOULT. 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