Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for
Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world
That ever 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. Now, the good gods
Throw their best eyes upon’t!
Enter two Sailors
First Sailor What courage, sir? God save you!
PERICLES 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.
First Sailor Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou?
Blow, and split thyself.
Second Sailor But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss
the moon, I care not.
First Sailor 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.
PERICLES That’s your superstition.
First Sailor Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still
observed: and we are strong in custom. Therefore
briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.
PERICLES As you think meet. Most wretched queen!
LYCHORIDA Here she lies, sir.
PERICLES A terrible childbed 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 e’er-remaining lamps, the belching whale
And humming water must o’erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells. O 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
Second Sailor Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked
and bitumed ready.
PERICLES I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?
Second Sailor We are near Tarsus.
PERICLES Thither, gentle mariner.
Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?
Second Sailor By break of day, if the wind cease.
PERICLES O, make for Tarsus!
There will I visit Cleon, for the babe
Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I’ll leave it
At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner:
I’ll bring the body presently.
Exeunt
Scene 2
Ephesus. A room in CERIMON’s house.
Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked
CERIMON Philemon, ho!
Enter PHILEMON
PHILEMON Doth my lord call?
CERIMON Get fire and meat for these poor men:
‘T has been a turbulent and stormy night.
Servant I have been in many; but such a night as this,
Till now, I ne’er endured.
CERIMON Your master will be dead ere you return;
There’s nothing can be minister’d to nature
That can recover him.
To PHILEMON
Give this to the ‘pothecary,
And tell me how it works.
Exeunt all but CERIMON
Enter two Gentlemen
First Gentleman Good morrow.
Second Gentleman Good morrow to your lordship.
CERIMON Gentlemen,
Why do you stir so early?
First Gentleman Sir,
Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,
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.
Second Gentleman That is the cause we trouble you so early;
‘Tis not our husbandry.
CERIMON O, you say well.
First Gentleman But I much marvel that your lordship, having
Rich tire about you, should at these early hours
Shake off the golden slumber of repose.
‘Tis most strange,
Nature should be so conversant with pain,
Being thereto not compell’d.
CERIMON I hold 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 practise, 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 doth 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.
Second Gentleman Your honour has through Ephesus pour’d forth
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restored:
And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even
Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as time shall ne’er decay.
Enter two or three Servants with a chest
First Servant So; lift there.
CERIMON What is that?
First Servant Sir, even now
Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest:
‘Tis of some wreck.
CERIMON Set ‘t down, let’s look upon’t.
Second Gentleman ‘Tis like a coffin, sir.
CERIMON Whate’er it be,
‘Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight:
If the sea’s stomach be o’ercharged with gold,
‘Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.
Second Gentleman ‘Tis so, my lord.
CERIMON How close ’tis caulk’d and bitumed!
Did the sea cast it up?
First Servant I never saw so huge a billow, sir,
As toss’d it upon shore.
CERIMON Wrench it open;
Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.
Second Gentleman A delicate odour.
CERIMON As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.
O you most potent gods! what’s here? a corse!
First Gentleman Most strange!
CERIMON Shrouded in cloth of state; balm’d and entreasured
With full bags of spices! A passport too!
Apollo, perfect me in the characters!
Reads from a scroll
‘Here I give to understand,
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 livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart
That even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight.
Second Gentleman Most likely, sir.
CERIMON Nay, certainly to-night;
For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough
That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within:
Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.
Exit a Servant
Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The o’erpress’d spirits. I heard of an Egyptian
That had nine hours lien dead,
Who was by good appliance recovered.
Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire
Well said, well said; the fire and cloths.
The rough and woeful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, beseech you.
The viol 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 entranced
Above five hours: see how she gins to blow
Into life’s flower again!
First Gentleman The heavens,
Through you, increase our wonder and set up
Your fame forever.
CERIMON 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
Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live,
And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
Rare as you seem to be.
She moves
THAISA O dear Diana,
Where am I? Where’s my lord? What world is this?
Second Gentleman Is not this strange?
First Gentleman Most rare.
CERIMON Hush, my 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;
And AEsculapius guide us!
Exeunt, carrying her away
Scene 3
Tarsus. A room in CLEON’s house.
Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA with MARINA in her arms
PERICLES Most honour’d Cleon, I must needs be gone;
My twelve months are expired, 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!
CLEON Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally,
Yet glance full wanderingly on us.
DIONYZA O your sweet queen!
That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither,
To have bless’d mine eyes with her!
PERICLES 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 gentle babe Marina, whom,
For she was born at sea, I have named so, here
I charge your charity withal, leaving her
The infant of your care; beseeching you
To give her princely training, that she may be
Manner’d as she is born.