Tharsus. A room in Cleon's house.

Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, Lychorida, and Marina.

Per. Most honour'd Cleon, 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 upon you!

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

Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.


O your sweet queen! That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her


To have bless'd mine eyes!


We cannot but obey The powers above us. Could I rage aud 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 be
Manner'd as she is born.


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 bodyt, By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty:

* Favour.

+ The common people.

But if to that my nature need a spur,
The gods revenge it upon me and mine,
To the end of generation!.

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,

I have one myself,
Who shall not be more dear to my respect,
Than yours, my lord.


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 Neptunet, and
The gentlest winds of heaven.


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.



Ephesus. A room in Cerimon'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?

Appear wilful, perverse by such conduct. + Insidious waves that wear a treacherous smile.

Thai. It is my lord's.

That I was shipp'd at sea, I well 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,

Where you may 'bide until your date expire.
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.



Enter Gower.

Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre,
Welcom'd to his own desire.
His woful queen leave at Ephess,
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 musick, 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,

* Groaning.

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 cambrick, 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
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.

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‡ Needle.

Accomplished, perfect.
** Ready.


Tharsus. An open place near the sea-shore.

Enter Dionyza and Leonine.

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.


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

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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, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds,

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.

Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?

How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not

The earth.

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