Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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 III. 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.

  Cleon

  Fear not, my lord, but think

  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 relieved, 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!

  Pericles

  I believe you;

  Your honour and your goodness teach me to’t,

  Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,

  By bright Diana, whom we honour, all

  Unscissor’d shall this hair of mine remain,

  Though I show ill in’t. So I take my leave.

  Good madam, make me blessed in your care

  In bringing up my child.

  Dionyza

  I have one myself,

  Who shall not be more dear to my respect

  Than yours, my lord.

  Pericles

  Madam, my thanks and prayers.

  Cleon

  We’ll bring your grace e’en to the edge o’ the shore,

  Then give you up to the mask’d Neptune and

  The gentlest winds of heaven.

  Pericles

  I will embrace

  Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears,

  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

  Cerimon

  Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,

  Lay with you in your coffer: which are now

  At your command. Know you the character?

  Thaisa

  It is my lord’s.

  That I was shipp’d at sea, I well remember,

  Even on my eaning time; but whether there

  Deliver’d, 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.

  Cerimon

  Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak,

  Diana’s temple is not distant far,

  Where you may abide till your date expire.

  Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine

  Shall there attend you.

  Thaisa

  My recompense is thanks, that’s all;

  Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.

  Exeunt

  ACT IV

  PROLOGUE

  Enter Gower

  Gower

  Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre,

  Welcomed and settled to his own desire.

  His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus,

  Unto Diana there a votaress.

  Now to Marina bend your mind,

  Whom our fast-growing scene must find

  At Tarsus, 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-rite; this maid

  Hight Philoten: and it is said

  For certain in our story, she

  Would ever with Marina be:

  Be’t when she weaved the sleided silk

  With fingers long, small, white as milk;

  Or when she would with sharp needle 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 stead,

  Lychorida, our nurse, is dead:

  And cursed Dionyza hath

  The pregnant instrument of wrath

  P
rest 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

  SCENE I. TARSUS. AN OPEN PLACE NEAR THE SEA-SHORE.

  Enter Dionyza and Leonine

  Dionyza

  Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do’t:

  ’Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.

  Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon,

  To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,

  Which is but cold, inflaming love i’ thy bosom,

  Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which

  Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be

  A soldier to thy purpose.

  Leonine

  I will do’t; but yet she is a goodly creature.

  Dionyza

  The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here she comes weeping for her only mistress’ death. Thou art resolved?

  Leonine

  I am resolved.

  Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers

  Marina

  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. Ay 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.

  Dionyza

  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 changed

  With this unprofitable woe!

  Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it.

  Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there,

  And it pierces and sharpens the stomach. Come,

  Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.

  Marina

  No, I pray you;

  I’ll not bereave you of your servant.

  Dionyza

  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 taken

  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.

  Marina

  Well, I will go;

  But yet I have no desire to it.

  Dionyza

  Come, come, I know ’tis good for you.

  Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least:

  Remember what I have said.

  Leonine

  I warrant you, madam.

  Dionyza

  I’ll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while:

  Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood:

  What! I must have a care of you.

  Marina

  My thanks, sweet madam.

  Exit Dionyza

  Is this wind westerly that blows?

  Leonine

  South-west.

  Marina

  When I was born, the wind was north.

  Leonine

  Was’t so?

  Marina

  My father, as nurse said, did never fear,

  But cried ‘Good seaman!’ to the sailors, galling

  His kingly hands, haling ropes;

  And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea

  That almost burst the deck.

  Leonine

  When was this?

  Marina

  When I was born:

  Never was waves nor wind more violent;

  And from the ladder-tackle washes off

  A canvas-climber. ‘Ha!’ says one, ‘wilt out?’

  And with a dropping industry they skip

  From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and

  The master calls, and trebles their confusion.

  Leonine

  Come, say your prayers.

  Marina

  What mean you?

  Leonine

  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.

  Marina

  Why will you kill me?

  Leonine

  To satisfy my lady.

  Marina

  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,

  Wherein my death might yield her any profit,

  Or my life imply her any danger?

  Leonine

  My commission

  Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.

  Marina

  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.

  Leonine

  I am sworn,

  And will dispatch.

  He seizes her

  Enter Pirates

  First Pirate

  Hold, villain!

  Leonine runs away

  Second Pirate

  A prize! a prize!

  Third Pirate

  Half-part, mates, half-part.

  Come, let’s have her aboard suddenly.

  Exeunt Pirates with Marina

  Re-enter Leonine

  Leonine

  These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes;

  And they have seized Marina. Let her go:

  There’s no hope she will return. I’ll swear she’s dead,

  And thrown into the sea. But I’ll see further:

  Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her,

  Not carry her aboard. If she remain,

  Whom they have ravish’d must by me be slain.

  Exit

  SCENE II. MYTILENE. A ROOM IN A BROTHEL.

  Enter Pandar, Bawd, and Boult

  Pandar

  Boult!

  Boult

  Sir?

  Pandar

  Search the market narrowly; Mytilene 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.

  Pandar

  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 sayest true: ’tis not our 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.

  Pandar

  Thou sayest 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

  Pandar

  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?

  Pandar

  O, our credit comes not in like the commodity, nor the commodity wages not with the danger: therefore, if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate, ’twere not amiss to keep our door hatched. 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.

  Pandar

  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.

  Re-enter Boult, with the Pirates and Marina

  Boult

  [To Marina] Come your ways. My masters, you say she’s a virgin?

  First Pirate

  O, sir, we doubt it not.

  Boult

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

  Bawd

  Boult, has she any qualities?

  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.

  Pandar

  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 Pandar 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

  Marina

  Alack that Leonine was so slack, so slow!

  He should have struck, not spoke; or that these pirates,

  Not enough barbarous, had not o’erboard thrown me

  For to seek my mother!

  Bawd

  Why lament you, pretty one?

  Marina

  That I am pretty.

  Bawd

  Come, the gods have done their part in you.

  Marina

  I accuse them not.

  Bawd

  You are light into my hands, where you are like to live.

  Marina