Gow.
Now sleep y-slaked ^note hath the rout ^note;
No din but snores the house about ^note,
Made louder by the o'er-fed' ^note breast ^note
Of this ^note most pompous marriage-feast.
The cat, with eyne of burning coal,
Now couches 'fore ^note the mouse's hole;
And crickets sing ^note at the oven's mouth,
E'er ^note the blither for their drouth.
Hymen hath brought the bride to bed,
Where, by ^note the loss of maidenhead,
A babe is moulded. Be ^note attent,
And time that is so briefly spent
With your fine fancies quaintly eche ^note:
What's dumb in show I'll plain with speech. Dumb Show. ^note Enter Pericles and Simonides at one door, with Attendants; a Messenger meets them, kneels, and gives Pericles a letter:

Pericles shows it Simonides; the Lords kneel to the former. ^note Then enter Thaisa with child, with Lychorida, a nurse: the King shows her the letter; she rejoices: she and Pericles take leave of her father, and depart ^note with Lychorida and their Attendants. Then exeunt Simonides and the rest. ^note
By many a dern ^note and painful perch
Of Pericles the careful search,
By the four opposing coigns ^note
Which the world together joins,
Is made with all due diligence
That horse and sail and high expense
Can stead ^note the quest. At ^note last from Tyre,
Fame answering the most strange ^note inquire,
To the court of King Simonides
Are letters brought, the tenour these:
Antiochus and his daughter ^note dead;
The men of Tyrus on the head
Of Helicanus would set on
The crown of Tyre, but he will none:
The mutiny he there ^note hastes ^note t' oppress ^note;
Says to 'em ^note, if King Pericles
Come not home in twice six moons,
He, obedient to their dooms ^note,
Will take the crown. The sum of this,
Brought hither to Pentapolis ^note,
Y-ravished ^note the regions round,
And every one ^note with claps can ^note sound,

‘Our heir-apparent is a king!
Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?’
Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:
His queen with child makes her desire—
Which who shall cross?— ^notealong to go.
Omit we all their dole and woe:
Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,
And so to sea: their ^note vessel shakes
On Neptune's billow; half the flood
Hath their keel cut: but fortune's mood ^note
Varies again; the grisled ^note north
Disgorges such a tempest forth,
That, as a duck for life that dives,
So up and down the poor ship drives ^note:
The lady shrieks and well-a-near ^note
Does ^note fall in travail ^note with her fear:
And what ensues in this fell ^note storm
Shall for itself itself ^note perform.
I nill relate, action ^note may
Conveniently the rest convey;
Which might not what ^note by me is told. ^note
In your imagination hold ^note
This stage the ship, upon whose deck
The sea-tost ^note Pericles ^note appears to speak. [Exit. ^note

^note Scene I. [Footnote: Enter Pericles, on ^note shipboard.

Per.
Thou ^note god of this ^note 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 ^note! O, still
Thy deafening ^note dreadful ^note thunders; gently ^note quench
Thy nimble sulphurous ^note flashes! O, how, ^note Lychorida, ^{note note}
How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously;
Wilt ^note thou spit ^note all thyself? The seaman's whistle
Is as a ^note whisper in the ears ^note of death,
Unheard. Lychorida! ^note—Lucina, O
Divinest patroness ^note and midwife ^note gentle
To those that ^note cry by night, convey thy deity
Aboard our dancing boat; make ^note swift the pangs ^note
Of my queen's travails ^note! Now, Lychorida!

Enter Lychorida, with an Infant. ^note

Lyc.
Here is a thing ^note 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. ^note

Per.
How, how, ^note Lychorida!

Lyc.
Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.
Here's all that is left living of your ^note queen,
A little daughter: for the sake of it,
Be manly, and take comfort.

Per.
O you gods!
Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
And snatch them straight away? We here below
Recall not what we give, and ^note therein may
Use honour with you ^note. ^note

Lyc.
Patience, good sir,
Even for this charge. ^note

Per.
Now, mild may be thy life!
For a more blustrous ^note birth had ^note never babe:
Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for
Thou art ^note the rudeliest welcome ^note to this world ^note
That ever ^note was prince's child. Happy what ^note follows!
Thou hast as chiding a nativity
As fire, air, water, earth and heaven can make,

To herald ^note thee from the womb ^note: even at the first
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit ^note,
With all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods
Throw their best eyes upon't ^note! ^note Enter two Sailors.

First Sail.
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 ^note sea-farer,
I would it would be quiet.

First Sail.

Slack ^note the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow ^note, and split thyself. ^note

Sec. Sail.

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

First Sail.

Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till ^note the ship be cleared ^note of the ^note dead. ^note

Per.

That's ^note your superstition.

First Sail.

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. ^note

Per.

As you think meet. Most wretched queen! ^note

Lyc.

Here she lies, sir.

Per.
A terrible childbed hast thou had, my dear;
No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements ^note
Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time
To give ^note thee hallow'd ^note to thy grave, but straight
Must cast thee, scarely coffin'd, in the ooze ^note;
Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
And ^note aye-remaining lamps ^note, the belching whale
And humming ^note water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells. O ^note Lychorida,
Bid Nestor bring ^note me spices, ink and paper ^note,
My casket and my jewels; and bid ^note Nicander
Bring me the satin coffer ^note: lay the babe
Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. [Exit Lychorida. ^note

Sec. Sail.

Sir, we have ^note a chest beneath ^note the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready. ^note

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

Sec. Sail.

We are near Tarsus.

Per.
Thither, gentle mariner,
Alter thy course for Tyre ^note. When canst thou reach it?

Sec. Sail.
By break of day, if the wind cease.

Per.
O, make for Tarsus!

There will I visit Cleon ^note, 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. ^{note note} Scene II. [Footnote: Ephesus. A room in Cerimon's house. ^note Enter ^note Cerimon, a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked.

Cer.
Philemon ^note, ho! ^note Enter Philemon. ^note

Phil.
Doth my lord call?

Cer.
Get fire and meat for these poor men:
'T has ^note been a turbulent and stormy night.

Serv.
I have been in many; but such a night as this,
Till now, I ne'er ^note 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 ^note] Give this to the 'pothecary,
And tell me how it works. [Exeunt ^note all but Cerimon. Enter two Gentlemen.

First Gent.
Good morrow. ^note

Sec. Gent.
Good morrow to your lordship.

Cer.
Gentlemen,
Why do you stir so early? ^note

First Gent.
Sir,
Our lodgings ^note, standing bleak upon the sea ^note
Shook as ^note the earth did quake;
The very principals ^note did seem to rend
And all-to topple ^note: pure surprise and fear
Made me to quit ^note the house. ^note

Sec. Gent.
That is the cause we trouble you so early;
'Tis not our husbandry.

Cer.
O, you say well.

First Gent.
But I much marvel that your lordship, having
Rich tire ^{note note} about you, should at these early hours
Shake off the golden slumber of repose.
'Tis ^note most strange, ^note
Nature should be so conversant with pain,
Being thereto not compell'd ^note.

Cer.
I hold ^note it ever,
Virtue and cunning were ^note endowments ^note 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 ^note, I have,
Together with my practice, made familiar
To me and to my aid the blest ^note infusions
That dwell ^note in vegetives, in metals, stones;
And I can ^note speak of the disturbances
That nature ^note works, and of her cures; which doth give ^note me
A more content in course of true delight ^note
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
Or ^note tie my treasure ^note up in silken bags,
To please the fool and death.

Sec. Gent.
Your honour has ^note through Ephesus pour'd ^note forth
Your charity, and hundreds ^note call themselves ^note
Your creatures, who by you have been restored:
And not your knowledge, your personal ^note pain, but even
Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon ^note
Such strong renown as time shall never... ^{note note}

Enter ^note two or three Servants with a chest.

First Serv. ^note
So; lift there.

Cer.
What's ^note that?

First Serv. ^note
Sir,
Even now did the sea toss up ^note upon our shore ^note
This chest: 'tis of some wreck. ^note

Cer.
Set't down, let's ^note look upon 't ^note.

Sec. Gent.
'Tis like a coffin, sir.

Cer.
Whate'er it be,
'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight: ^note
If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,
'Tis ^note a good constraint of fortune it ^note belches ^note upon us.

Sec. Gent.

'Tis so, my lord.

Cer.

How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed ^note! Did the sea cast it up?

First Serv. ^note

I never saw so huge a billow, sir, as toss'd it upon shore.

Cer.

Wrench ^note it open: soft! ^note it smells most sweetly in my sense. ^note

Sec. Gent.
A delicate odour.

Cer.
As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.
O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!

First Gent.

Most strange!

Cer.

Shrouded in cloth of state; balmed and entreasured

with full bags of spices ^note! A passport too! Apollo, ^note perfect me in the ^note characters! ^note

'Here I give to understand,
If e'er this coffin drive ^note a-land ^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 king:
Besides this treasure for a fee,
The gods requite ^note his charity!’
If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart
That even ^note cracks for woe! This chanced to-night.

Sec. Gent.
Most likely, sir.

Cer.
Nay, certainly to-night;
For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough ^note
That ^note threw her in the sea. Make a fire ^note within:
Fetch hither all my boxes ^note in my closet. [Exit ^note a servant.
Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The o'erpress'd ^note spirits. I heard ^note of an Egyptian
That had ^note nine hours lien ^note dead,

Who was by good appliance ^note recovered ^note. ^note Re-enter ^note a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.
Well said, well said; the fire and cloths ^note.
The rough ^note and woful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, beseech ^note you.
The viol ^note once more: how thou stirr'st ^note, thou block!
The music there ^note! I pray you, give her air. ^note
Gentlemen,
This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth
Breathes ^note out of her: she hath not been entranced ^note
Above five hours: see how she 'gins to blow
Into life's flower again! ^note

First Gent.
The heavens, ^note
Through you, increase our wonder, and set ^note up
Your fame for ever. ^note

Cer.
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 ^note appear
To make the world twice rich. Live ^note,
And make us weep ^note to hear your fate, fair creature,
Rare as you seem to be. ^note [She moves.

Thai.
O dear Diana,
Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this? ^note

Sec. Gent.
Is not tis strange?

First Gent.
Most rare.

Cer.
Hush, my gentle neighbours ^note!
Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her.
Get linen: now this matter must be look'd to,
For her ^note relapse is mortal. Come, come; ^note
And Æsculapius ^note guide us! ^note [Exeunt ^note, carrying her away. ^note Scene III. [Footnote: Tarsus. ^note A room in the Governor's house. Enter ^note Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, and Lychorida with Marina in her arms.

Per.
Most honour'd ^note Cleon, I must needs be gone;
My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus ^note stands

In a litigious ^note peace. You, and your lady,
Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods
Make up the rest upon you! ^note

Cle.
Your shafts ^note of fortune, though ^note they hurt ^note you mortally,
Yet glance full wanderingly ^note on us. ^note

Dion.
O your sweet queen!
That the strict fates had pleased you had ^note brought her hither,
To have bless'd mine eyes with her ^note! ^note

Per.
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 ^note babe Marina, whom,
For she was born at sea, I have named so, here ^note
I charge your charity withal, leaving ^note her
The infant of your care; beseeching you
To give her princely training, that she may be
Manner'd as she is born. ^note

Cle.
Fear not, my lord ^note, but think ^note
Your grace, that fed my country with your corn,
For which the people's prayers still ^note fall upon you,
Must in your child be thought on. If neglection ^note

Should therein make me vile, the common body,
By ^note 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! ^note

Per.
I believe you;
Your honour and your goodness teach ^note me to't ^note,
Without your vows. Till she be married, ^note madam,
By bright Diana, whom we honour, all ^note
Unscissar'd shall this hair ^note of mine ^note remain, ^note
Though I show ill ^note in't. So I take my leave.
Good madam, make me blessed in your care
In bringing up my child.

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

Per.
Madam, my thanks and prayers.

Cle.
We'll bring your grace ^note e'en ^note to the edge o' the ^note shore,
Then give you up to the mask'd ^note Neptune and
The gentlest winds of heaven. ^note

Per.
I will embrace
Your offer. Come, dearest ^note madam. O, no tears,

Lychorida ^note, no tears:
Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord. ^note [Exeunt. ^{note note} Scene IV. [Footnote: Ephesus. A room ^note in Cerimon's house. Enter Cerimon and Thaisa. ^note

Cer.
Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,
Lay with you in your coffer: which are ^note
At your command. Know you the character? ^note

Thai.
It is my ^note lord's.
That ^note I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,
Even on my eaning ^note time; but whether there
Delivered ^note, by the holy gods,
I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles,
My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again,
A vestal ^note livery will I take me to,
And never more have joy. ^note

Cer.
Madam, if this you purpose as ye ^note speak,
Diana's temple is not distant far,
Where you may abide till ^note your date expire.
Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine
Shall there attend you.

Thai.
My recompense is thanks, that's ^note all;
Yet my good will is great, though the gift ^note small. [Exeunt. ^{note note}

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