A vestal very will I take me to, And never more have joy. Cer. Madam, if this you purpose as you speak. Where you may 'bide until your date expire. Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all; Yet my good will is great, though the gift small. [Exeunt. €33 ACT IV. Enter GOWER. Gow. Imagine Pericles arriv'd at Tyre, In music, letters; who hath gain'd Which makes her both the heart and place Be't when she weav'd the sleided silk Vail to her mistress Dian; still This Philoten contends in skill With the dove of Paphos might the crow All praises, which are paid as debts, 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 doth appear, With Leonine, a murderer. SCENE I.-THARSUS. [Exit. 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. 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 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.—Here She comes weeping for her only mistress' death.— Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers. 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, While summer days do last.-Ah me! poor maid, Whirring me from my friends. Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone? Give me your flowers, ere the sea mar them. Mar. No, I pray you; I'll not bereave you of your servant. Dion. Come, come; I love the king your father, and yourself, He will repent the breadth of his great voyage; 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 care of you. Mar. When I was born, the wind was north. Was 't so? Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear, And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea Leon. When was this? Mar. When I was born: Never were waves nor wind more violent; And from the ladder-tackle washes off A canvas-climber. "Ha!" says one, "wilt out?" From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and The master calls, and trebles their confusion. Leon. Come, say your prayers. 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 Mar. Leon. To satisfy my lady. Why will you kill me? Mar. Why would she have me kill'd? I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn Leon. My commission Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. Mar. You will not do 't for all the world, I hope. When you caught hurt in parting two that fought: Your lady seeks my life; come you between, 2 Pirate. A prize! a prize! 3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's have her aboard [Exeunt Pirates with MARINA. suddenly. SCENE II.-The Same. 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, Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, Whom they have ravish'd must by me be slain. [Exit. SCENE III.-MITYLENE. A Room in a Brothel. Pana. Boult, Boult. Sir? Enter Pander, Bawd, and BoULT. 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 say'st true: 'tis not the bringing 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'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. 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 |