SCENE II.
Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House.
Enter Cerimon1 note, a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked.
Cer.
Philemon, ho!
Enter Philemon.
Phil.
Doth my lord call?
Cer.
Get fire and meat for these poor men;
It has been a turbulent and stormy night.
Serv.
I have been in many; but such a night as this,
Till now, I ne'er endur'd2 note
.
-- 113 --
Cer.
Your master will be dead ere you return;
There's nothing can be minister'd to nature,
That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary3 note
,
And tell me how it works.
[To Philemon.
[Exeunt Philemon, Servant, and those who had been shipwrecked.
Enter Two Gentlemen.
1 Gent.
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,
Shook, as the earth did quake4 note
;
-- 114 --
The very principals did seem to rend,
And all to topple5 note
; pure surprize and fear
Made me to quit the house.
2 Gent.
That is the cause we trouble you so early;
'Tis not our husbandry6 note
.
Cer.
O, you say well.
1 Gent.
But I much marvel that your lordship, having
Rich tire about you7 note, should at these early hours
-- 115 --
Shake off the golden slumber of repose8 note
.
It is most strange,
Nature should be so conversant with pain,
Being thereto not compell'd.
Cer.
I held it ever,
Virtue and cunning9 note
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 physick, 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, stones1 note
;
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 bags2 note
,
-- 116 --
To please the fool and death3 note
.
2 Gent.
Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth
-- 117 --
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd:
-- 118 --
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
Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest;
'Tis of some wreck.
Cer.
Set it down, let's look on it.
2 Gent.
'Tis like a coffin, sir.
Cer.
Whate'er it be,
'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight;
If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold4 note
,
It is a good constraint of fortune, that
It belches upon us5 note
.
2 Gent.
'Tis so, my lord.
Cer.
How close 'tis caulk'd and bitum'd6 note
!—
Did the sea cast it up?
-- 119 --
Serv.
I never saw so huge a billow, sir,
As toss'd it upon shore.
Cer.
Come, wrench it open;
Soft, soft!—it smells most sweetly in my sense.
2 Gent.
A delicate odour.
Cer.
As ever hit my nostril7 note; so, up with it,
O you most potent god! what's here? a corse!
1 Gent.
Most strange!
Cer.
Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasur'd
With bags of spices full! A passport too!
Apollo, perfect me i' the characters.8 note!
[Unfolds a Scroll.
[Reads.
Here I give to understand,
(If e'er this coffin drive a-land9 note,)
I, king Pericles, have lost
This queen, worth all our mundane cost.
Who finds her, give her burying,
She was the daughter of a king1 note
:
Besides this treasure for a fee,
The gods requite his charity!
-- 120 --
If thou liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heart
That even cracks for woe2 note
!—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 heard3 note
Of an Egyptian, had nine hours lien dead4 note
,
By good appliance was recovered.
Enter a Servant, with Boxes, Napkins, and Fire.
Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths5 note
.—
The rough and woful musick that we have,
Cause it to sound, 'beseech you6 note
.
-- 121 --
The vial once more;—How thou stirr'st, thou block?—
The musick there7 note
.—I pray you, give her air:—
Gentlemen,
This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth
-- 122 --
Breathes out of her9 note
; she hath not been entranc'd
Above five hours. See, how she 'gins 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 eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels1 note
Which Pericles hath lost,
Begin to part their fringes of bright gold2 note
;
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,
Rare as you seem to be!
[She moves.
Thai.
O dear Diana,
Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this3 note
?
-- 123 --
2 Gent.
Is not this strange?
1 Gent.
Most rare.
Cer.
Hush, gentle neighbours;
Lend me your hands: to the next chamber bear her4 note
.
Get linen; now this matter must be look'd to,
For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come;
And Æsculapius guide us!
[Exeunt, carrying Thaisa away.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
