Which might not what by me is told.-
In your imagination hold

This stage, the ship, upon whose deck
The sea-toss'd Pericles appears to speak.

[Exit.

SCENE I.

Enter PERICLES on a ship at sea.

Per. Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these

surges,

Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou

that hast

Upon the winds command, bind them in brass,
Having call'd them from the deep! O still
Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench
Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes!-O how, Ly-
chorida,

How does my queen ?-Thou storm, venomously,
Wilt thou spit all thyself?-The seaman's whistle
Is, as a whisper in the ear of death,
Unheard.-Lychorida!-Lucina, O

Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle
To those that cry by night, convey thy deity
Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs
Of my queen's travails!—

Enter LYCHORIDA.

Now, Lychorida

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 queen.

Per. How! how, Lychorida!

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.

Per.

O ye gods!

Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
And snatch them straight away? We, here

below,

Recall not what we give, and therein may

Use honour with you.

Lyc.

Even for this charge.

Per.

Patience, good sir,

Now, mild may be thy life!

For a more blusterous birth had never babe :

Quiet and gentle thy conditions !

For thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world,

That e'er was prince's child.

follows!

Thou hast as chiding a nativity,

Happy what

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 it!

Enter two Sailors.

1 Sailor. 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 seafarer, I would it would be quiet.

1 Sailor. Slack the bolins there; thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow and split thyself.

2 Sailor. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.

1 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.

Per. That's your superstition.

I 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.

Per. Be it as you think meet.-Most wretched queen!

Lyc. Here she lies, sir.

Per. 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 aye-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

say

A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

[Exit LYCHORIDA. 2 Sailor. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready.

Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?

2 Sailor. We are near Tharsus.

Per. Thither, gentle mariner;

Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?

2 Sailor. By break of day, if the wind cease. Per. O make for Tharsus.

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. II.-Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House.

Enter CERIMON, a Servant, and some persons who have been shipwrecked.

Cer. Philemon, oh!

Enter PHILEMON.

Phil. Doth my lord call?

Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men; It hath been a turbulent and stormy night. Ser. I have been in many; but such a night as this,

Till now,

I ne'er endured.

Cer. 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.

I Gent. Good morrow.

2 Gent.

Good morrow to your lordship.

Cer. Gentlemen, why do you stir so early?

I Gent. 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 leave the house.

2 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so

you say well.

I Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship,

having

Rich tire about you, 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.

I held it ever,

Cer.
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 bless'd 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 pleasure up in silken bags,

To please the fool and death.

2 Gent. Your honour hath through Ephesus pour'd forth

Your charity, and hundreds call themselves