The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

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 haud 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?

I am glad of it with all my heart. [Aside.] I'll tame you;

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 thas your hopes destroy;
And for a further grief, God give you joy!
What, are you both pleas'd?

Thai. Yes, if you love me, sir!

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!

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;
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. SIMO-
NIDES shows his daughter the letter; she re-
joices: she and PERICLES take leave of her Father,
and depart. Then SIMONIDES, etc. retire.
Gow. By many a dearn and painful perch,
Of Pericles the careful search
By the four opposing coignes,
Which the world together joins,
Is made with all due diligence,
That horse, and sail, and high expence,
Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre
(Fame answering the most strong inquire,)
To the court of king Simonides
Are letters brought, the tenour 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 t'appease;
Says to them, if king Pericles

Come not, in twice six moons, home,
He, obedient to their doom,

Will take the crown. Then 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 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 mood
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!
Doth fall in travail with her fear:
And what ensues in this fell storm,
Shall, for itself, itself perform.

I nill 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-tost prince appears to speak.

SCENE I.

Enter PERICLES, on a ship at sea.

[Exit.

Per. Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these

surges,

Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, th

hast

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

Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble,
Sulphureous flashes! O how, Lychorida,
How does my queen?

Thou storm, thou! ve

nomously 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 Of my queen's travails! Now, LychoridaAboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant. Lyc. 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 Per. How! how, Lychorida!

queen.

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.

Lyc. Patience, good sir,

Even for this charge!

Per. 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 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,
With all thou canst find here.
Throw their best eyes upon it!
Enter two Sailors.

That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary,
And tell me how it work.
[To Philemon.
[Exeunt Philemon, Servant, and those who
had been shipwrecked.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1 Gen. Good morrow, sir!

2 Gent. Good morrow to your lordship!
Cer. Gentlemen,

Why do you stir so early?

1 Gent. Sir,

Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,

Now the good gods Shook, as the earth did quake;
The very principals did seem to rend,
And all to topple; pure surprise and fear
Made me to quit the house.

1 Sail. What courage, sir? God save you!
Per. Courage enough! I do not fear the flaw;
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 bolins 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 straight.

Per. Be it as you think meet. Most wretched queen! 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
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 sattin coffer: Jay 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 bitumed ready.

Per. I thank thee! Mariner, say what coast is this?
2 Sail. We are near Tharsus.

Per. Thither, gentle mariner,

2 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so early; 'Tis not our husbandry.

Cer. O, you say well.

1 Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship,
having

Rich tire about yon, should at these early hours
Shake off the golden slumber of repose,
It is most strange,

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 give 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 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!
Cer. What is that?

Serv. Sir, even now

Alter thy course for Tyre. When can'st thou reach it? Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest;

Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entrea-To have bless'd mine eyes! sur'd

With bags of spices full! A passport too!

Apollo, perfect me i'the characters!

[Unfolds a scroll.

Here I give to understand,

(If e'er this coffin drive a-land,)
I, 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. 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
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 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 'gius to blow
Into life's flower again!

1 Gent. The heavens, sir,

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

Cer. She is alive! behold,

Her eye-lids, 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,
[She moves.
Rare as you seem to be!

Thai. O dear Diana,

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

2 Gent. Is not this strange?

1 Gent. Most rare.

Cer. 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 Aesculapius 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 Cleou, 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 upou you!

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

Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.

Dion. O your sweet queen!

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
Manner'd as she is born.

Cle. 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,
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!

Per. 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 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

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!

[Exeunt.

Ephesus. A room in CERIMOX'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 will 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,
'bide until
Where
date expire.
you may
your
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.

Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre,
Welcom'd to his own desire.

That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought His woeful queen leave at Ephess,

her hither,

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
Ol general wonder. But alack!
That monster envy, oft the wrack
Of earned praise, Marina's life
Serks 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
Vail 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 steed,
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.

SCENE I. - Tharsus. An open place near the

shore.

Enter DIONYZA, and LEONINE.

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 With this unprofitable woe! 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. ComelLeonine, take her by the arm, walk with her! Mar. No, I pray you!

I'll not bereave you of your servant.

Dion. Come, come!

In 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 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.

Mar. Thanks, sweet madam!Is this wind westerly that blows? Leon. South-west.

[Exit Dionya.

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;
Aud, clasping to the mast, eudur'd a sea
That almost burst the deck,and from the ladder-tackle
Washi'd off a canvas-climber: 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?

[Exit Mar. It was, when I was born:
sea-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.

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. Here Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death. Thou art resolv'd?

Leon. I am resolv'd.

Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers. Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus of her weed, To strew thy green with flowers; the yellows, The purple violets, and marigolds,

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 life; I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn To any living creature: believe me, la, I never kill'd a mouse, nor hart 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 blues,y life imply her danger?

Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,
While summer days do last. Ah 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.

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.
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

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 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 are too unwholsome, o'conscience. The poor Transilvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.

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?

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 Pander 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 maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done as I command you.

Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit Boult. Mar. Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow! (He should have struck, not spoke;) or that these pirates,

(Not enough barbarous,) had not overboard
Thrown me to seek my mother!

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.

Mar. Are you a woman?

Bawd. What would you have me be, an I be not a woman?

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. Enter BOULt.

Boult. Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-made for worms:-but I'll go search the mar-Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market? ket. Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice. Bawd. And I pr'ythee tell me, how dost thou find the inclination of the people, especially of the young

[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?

er sort?

Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on.

Pand. O, our credit comes not in like the commo- Boult. 'Faith, they listened to me, as they would dity; nor the commodity wages notwith the danger; have hearkened to their father's testament. There therefore, if in our youths we could pick up some was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatch-bed to her very description. ed. 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. 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.

Enter the Pirates, and BoULT, dragging in MARINA.
Boult. Come your ways! [To Marina.-
My masters, you say she's a virgin?

1 Pirate, 0, sir, we doubt it not.

Boult. Master, I have gone thorough for this piece, you see: if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my

earnest.

Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities?

Boult. To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the French knight that cowers i'the hams? Bawd. Who? monsieur Veroles?

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.

« Zurück Weiter »

Books