Gower.
See how belief may suffer by foule show,
This borrowed passion stands for true old woe:
And Pericles in sorrow all devour'd,
With sighes shot through, and biggest teares o're-showr'd.
Leaves Tharsus, and again imbarks, he sweares
Never to wash his face, nor cut his haires,
He put on Sack-cloth and to Sea he beares,
A tempest which his mortall Vessell teares.
And yet he rides it out. Now take we our way
To the Epitaph for Marina, writ by Dionizia.
The fairest, sweetest, and best lies here,
Who withered in her spring of year:
She was of Tyrus the King's Daughter,
On whom foule death hath made this slaughter:
Marina was she call'd, and at her birth,
That is, being proud, swallow'd some part of th' earth:
Therefore the earth fearing to be o'reflow'd
Hath Thetis birth-childe on the heavens bestow'd.
Wherefore she does and sweares she'll never stint,
Make raging Battry upon shores of flint.
No vizor does become black villany,
So well as soft and tender flattery.
Let Pericles believe his Dauhter's dead,
And bear his courses to be ordered
By Lady Fortune, while our steare must play
His Daughter woe and heavy well-a-day.
In her unholy service: Patience then,
And think you now are all in Metaline.
Enter two Gentlemen.
1. Gent.
Did you ever hear the like?
2. Gent.
No, nor never shall doe in such a place as
this, she being once gone.
1. Gent.
But to have Divinity preacht there, did you
ever dreame of such a thing?
2. Gent.
No, no, come, I am for no more Bawdy
Houses, shall we go hear the Vestalls sing?
1. Gent.
I'le doe any thing now that is virtuous, but
I am out of the road of rutting for ever.
Exeunt.
Enter the three Bawdes.
Pand.
Well, I had rather then twice the worth of her
she had ne're come here.
Bawd.
Fie, fie upon her, she is able to frieze the god
Priapus, and undoe a whole generation, we must either
get her ravisht, or be rid of her, when she should doe for
clyents her fitment, and doe me the kindnesse of our profession,
she has me her quirks, her reasons, her master-reasons,
her prayers, her knees, that she would make a
Puritane of the Devil, if he should cheapen a kisse of her.
Boult.
Faith I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us
of all our Cavaleers, and make all our Swearers Priests.
Pand.
Now the poxe upon her green sicknesse for me.
Ba.
Faith there's no way to be rid of it, but by the way
to the Pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised.
Boul.
We should have both Lord and Lown, if the
peevish Baggage would but give way to customers.
Enter Lysimachus.
Lys.
How now, how a dozen of virginities?
Bawd.
Now the gods blesse your Honour.
Boult.
I am glad to see your Honour in good health.
Lys.
You may so, 'tis the better for you, that your
resorters stand upon sound Legs, how now? wholsome
impunity have you, that a man may deale withall, and
defie the Surgeon?
Bawd.
We have one here, sir, if she would—
But there never came her like in Metaline.
Lys.
If she'd doe the deeds of darknesse, thou would'st
say.
Bawd.
Your honour knowes what 'tis to say well enough.
Lys.
Well, call forth, call forth.
Boult.
For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you
shall see a Rose, and she were a Rose indeed, if she had
but—
Lys.
What prethee?
Boult.
O sir, I can be modest.
Lys.
That dignifies the renown of a Bawd, no lesse
then it gives a good report to a number to be chaste.
Enter Marina.
Bawd.
Here comes that which growes to the stalke,
Never pluckt yet I can assure you.
Is she not a fair creature?
Lys.
Faith she would serve after a long voyage at Sea,
Well, there's for you, leave us.
Bawd.
I beseech your honour give me leave a word,
And I'le have done presently.
Lys.
I beseech you doe.
Bawd.
First, I would have you note, this is an honourable
man.
Mar.
I desire to find him so, that I may worthily
note him.
Bawd.
Next, he's the Governour of this Country, and
a man whom I am bound to.
Mar.
If he govern the Countrey, you are bound to
him indeed, but how honourable he is in that, I know not.
Bawd.
Pray you without any more virginall fencing,
will you use him kindly? he will line your Apron with
Gold.
Mar.
What he will doe graciously, I will thankfully
receive.
Lys.
Have you done?
Bawd.
My Lord, she's not pace't yet, you must take
some pains to work her to your mannage, come, we will
leave his Honour and her together.
Exit Bawde.
Lys.
Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this
trade?
Mar.
What trade, Sir?
Lys.
Why, I cannot name't but I shall offend.
Mar.
I cannot be offended with my trade, please you
to name it.
Lys.
How long have you been of this profession?
Mar.
E're since I can remember.
Lys.
Did you go to't so young, were you a gamester
at five, or at seven?
Mar.
Earlier too, sir, if now I be one,
Lys.
Why the house you dwell in, proclaimes you to
be a creature of sale.
Mar.
Doe you know this house to be a place of such
resort, and will come into it? I hear say you are of honourable
parts, and the Governour of this place.
Lys.
Why? hath your principall made known unto
you, who I am?
-- 16 --
Mar.
Who is my Principal?
Ly.
Why your hearb woman, she that sets seeds and
roots of shame and iniquity. O you have heard some
thing of my power, and so stand aloft for more serious
wooing, but I protest to thee, pretty one, my authority
shall not see thee, or else look friendly upon thee; come
bring me to some private place, come, come.
Mar.
If you were born to honour, shew it now, if put
upon you, make the judgement good, that thought you
worthy of it.
Lys.
How's this? how's this? some more, be sage.
Mar.
For me that am a maid, though most ungentle
Fortune have plac'd me in this Stie, where since I came,
diseases have been sold dearer then Physick, O that the
gods would set me free from this unhallow'd place,
though they did change me to the meanest bird that flies
i'th purer aire.
Lys.
I did not think thou could'st have spoke so well,
I ne're dream'd thou could'st; had I brought hither a
corrupted mind, thy speech had altered it, hold, here's
gold for thee, persever in that clear way thou goest, and
the gods strengthen thee.
Mar.
The good gods preserve you.
Ly.
For my part, I came with no ill intent, for to me
the very doors and windows favours vilely, fare thee well,
thou art a piece of vertue, and I doubt not but thy training
hath been Noble, hold, here's more gold for thee, a
curse upon him, die he like a thief that robs thee of thy
goodness, if thou dost hear from me, it shall be for thy
good.
Boult.
I beseech your honour, one piece for me.
Ly.
Avant thou damned door-keeper, your house but
for this virgin that doth prop it, would sink and overwhelm
you. away.
Boult.
How's this? we must take another course with
you? if your peevish chastity, which is not worth a
break-fast in the cheapest Country under the coap, shall
undo a whole household, let me be gelded like a spaniel,
come your wayes.
Mar.
Whither would you have me?
Boult.
I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the
common hangman shall execute it, come your way, we'll
have no more gentlemen driven away, come your wayes
I say.
Enter Bawds.
Bawd.
How now, what's the matter?
Boult.
Worse and worse, Mistris, she hath here spoken
holy words to the Lord Lysimachus.
Bawd.
O abominable.
Boult.
He makes our profession as it were to stink before
the face of the gods.
Bawd.
Marry hang her up for ever.
Boult.
The Nobleman would have dealt with her like
a Nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a Snowball,
saying his prayers too.
Bawd.
Boult, take her away, use her at thy pleasure,
crack the glasse of her virginity, & make the rest maleable.
Boult.
And if she were a thornier piece of ground
then she is, she shall be ploughed.
Mar.
Hark, hark, you gods.
Bawd.
She conjures, away with her, would she had
never come within my doors, Marry hang you, she's born
to undo us, will you not go the way of women-kind?
Marry come up my dish of chastity, with rosemary and
bayse.
Exit.
Boult.
Come mistris, come your wayes with me.
Mar.
Whither would you have me?
Boult.
To take from you the jewel you hold so deer.
Mar.
Prithee tell me one thing first.
Boult.
Come now, your one thing.
Mar.
What can'st thou wish thine enemy to be?
Boult.
Why I could wish him to be my Master, or
rather my Mistris.
Mar.
Neither of these are so bad as thou art, since
they do better thee in their command; thou hold'st
a place, for which the painedst fiend in hell would
not in reputation change: thou art the damned doorkeeper
to every cusherel that comes enquiring for his
Tib; to the cholerick fisting of every rogue, thy ear is
liable, thy food is such as hath been belcht on by infectious
lungs.
Boult.
What would you have me do? go to the warrs,
would you, where a man may serve seven years for the
losse of a leg, and have not money enough in the end to
buy him a wooden one?
Mar.
Do any thing but this thou dost, empty old receptacles,
or common-shores of filth; serve by Indenture
to the common hangman, any of these wayes are yet better
then this: for what thou professest, a Baboon, could he
speak, would own a name too dear: Oh, that the gods
would safely deliver me from this place: here, here's gold
for thee, if that thy Master would gain by me, proclaim
that I can sing, weave, sowe, and dance, with other vertues,
which I'le keep from boast, and will undertake all
these to teach. I doubt not but this populous City will
yield many schollars.
Boult.
But can you teach all this you speak off?
Mar.
Prove that I cannot, take me home again, and
prostitute me to the basest groom that doth frequent your
house.
Boult.
Well, I will see what I can do for thee: If I
can place thee I will.
Mar.
But amongst honest women.
Boult.
Faith my acquaintance lies little among them;
but since my master and mistris hath bought you, there's
no going but by their consent: therefore I will make them
acquainted with your purpose, and I doubt not but I shall
find them tractable enough. Come, I'le do for thee what
I can, come your wayes.
Exeunt.
Enter Gower.
Marina thus the Brothel scapes, and chances
Into an honest house, our story saies;
She sings like one immortal, and she dances
As goddess-like to her admired laies:
Deep Clearks she dumbs, and with her needle composes
Natures own shape, of bud, bird, branch or berry,
That even her art, sisters the natural Roses,
Her Incle, Silk, Twine, with the rubied Cherry,
That pupils lacks she none of noble race,
Who pour their bounty on her, and her gain
She gives the cursed Bawd. Leave we her place,
And to her Father turn our thoughts again,
Where we left him at sea, tumbled and tost,
And driven before the wind, he is arriv'd
Here where his daughter dwels, and on this Coast,
Suppose him now at Anchor: the City striv'd
God Neptunes annual feast to keep, from whence
Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies,
His banners sable, trim'd with rich expence,
And to him in his Barge with fervour hyes.
-- 17 --
In your supposing, once more put your sight
On heavy Pericles, think this his Bark,
Where what is done in action (more of might
Shall be discovered) please you sit and hark.
Exit.
Enter Hellicanus, to him two Saylors.
1. Sayl.
Where is the Lord Hellicanus? he can resolve
you. O here he is, sir, there is a Barge put off from
Metaline, and in it is Lysimachus the Governor, who
craves to come aboard, what is your will?
Hell.
That he have his, call up some gentlemen.
2. Sayl.
Ho, Gentlemen, my Lord calls.
Enter two or three Gentlemen.
Hell.
Gentlemen, there is some of worth would come
aboard, I pray thee greet them fairly.
Enter Lysimachus.
1. Sayl.
Sir, this is the man that can in ought you
would, resolve you.
Lys.
Hail, reverent sir, the gods preserve you.
Hell.
And you to out-live the age I am, and die as I
would do.
Lys.
You wish me well; being on shore, honoring
of Neptunes triumphs, seeing this goodly vessel ride before
us, I made to it, to know of whence you are.
Hell.
First, what is your place?
Lys.
I am the Governor of this place you lie before.
Hell.
Sir, our vessel's of Tyre, in it the King, a man,
who for this three months hath not spoken to any one,
nor taken sustenance, but to prolong his grief.
Lys.
Upon what ground is his distemperance?
Hell.
It would be too tedious to repeat, but the main
grief springs from the losse of a beloved daughter, and a
wife.
Lys.
May we not see him?
Hell.
You may, but bootless is your sight, he will not
speak to any.
Lys.
Let me obtain my wish.
Hell.
Behold him, this was a goodly person, till the
disaster that one mortal wight drove him to this.
Lys.
Sir King, all hail, the gods preserve you, hail,
Royal Sir.
Hell.
It is in vain, he will not speak to you.
Lord.
Sir, we have a maid in Metaline, I durst wager
would win some words from him.
Lys.
'Tis well bethought, she questionlesse with her
sweet harmony, and other chosen attractions, would allure
and make a battery through his defended parts, which
now are mid-way stopt, she is all happy, as the fairest of
all, and her fellow maids, now upon the levie shelter that
abutts against the Island side.
Hell.
Sure all effectless, yet nothing wee'l omit that
bears recoveries name. But since your kindness we have
strecht thus farre, let us beseech you, that for our gold we
may have provision, wherein we are not destitute for want,
but weary for the staleness.
Lys.
O, sir, a courtesie, which if we should deny, the
most just God for every grasse would send a Caterpiller,
and so inflict our Province: yet once more let me entreat
to know at large the cause of your Kings sorrow.
Hell.
Sit, sir, I will recount it to you; but see, I am
prevented.
Enter Marina.
Lys.
O here's the Lady that I sent for.
Welcome fair one: Is't not a goodly present?
Hell.
She's a gallant Lady.
Lys.
She's such a one, that were I well assur'd,
Came of a gentle kind and noble stock,
I'd wish no better choise, and think me rarely wed.
Fair and all goodnesse that consists in beauty,
Expect even here, where is a kingly patient,
If that thy prosperous and artificial fate,
Can draw him but to answer thee in ought,
Thy sacred Physick shall receive such pay,
As thy desires can wish.
Mar.
Sir, I will use my uttermost skill in his recovery,
provided that none but I and my companion maid, be
suffered to come near him.
Lys.
Come, let us leave her, and the gods make her
prosperous.
The Song.
Lys.
Markt he your musick:
Mar.
No, nor lookt on us.
Lys.
See, she will speak to him.
Mar.
Hail, sir, my Lord, lend ear.
Per.
Hum, ha.
Mar.
I am a maid, my Lord, that nere before invited
eyes, but have been gazed on like a Comet: she speaks, my
Lord, that may be, hath endured a grief might equall
yours, if both were justly weighed, though wayward fortune
did maligne my state, my derivation was from ancestors
who stood equivolent with mighty Kings, but time
hath rooted out my parentage, and to the world and aukward
casualties, bound me in servitude, I will desist, but
there is something glows upon my cheek, and whispers in
mine ear, Go not till he speak.
Per.
My fortunes, parentage, good parentage to equal
mine; was it not thus, what say you?
Mar.
I said, my Lord, if you did know my parentage,
you would not do me violence.
Per.
I do think so, pray you turn your eyes upon me,
y'are like some-thing that, what Countrey-women hear of
these shews?
Mar.
No, nor of any shews, yet I was mortally
brought forth, and am no other then I appear.
Per.
I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping:
my dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one my
daughter might have been: my Queens square brows, her
stature to an inch, as wand-like straight, as silver voyc'st,
her eyes as jewel-like, and cast as richly, in pace another
Juno. Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them
hungry, the more she gives them speech; where do you
live?
Mar.
Where I am but a stranger, from the deck you
may discern the place.
Per.
Where were you bred? and how atchiev'd
you these endowments which you make more rich
to owe?
Mar.
If I should tell my history, it would seem like
lies disdain'd in the reporting.
Per.
Prithee speak, falsenesse cannot come from
thee, for thou lookest modest as Justice, and thou seem'st
a Pallas for the crowned truth to dwell in, I will believe
thee, and make my senses credite thy relation, to
points that seem impossible, for thou look'st like one
I loved indeed; what were thy friends? Did'st thou
not stay when I did push thee back; which was when
I perceived thee that thou cam'st from good descent.
Mar.
So indeed I did.
Per.
Report thy parentage, I think thou said'st thou
had'st been tost fron wrong to injury, and that thou
-- 18 --
thought'st thy griefs might equall mine, if both were opened.
Mar.
Some such thing I said, and said no more,
but what my thoughts did warrant me was likely.
Per.
Tell thy story, if thine considered prove the
thousand part of my endurance, thou art a man, and I
have suffered like a girle, yet thou do'st look like patience,
gazing on Kings graves, and smiling extremity out of
act, what were thy friends? how lost thou thy name,
my most kind virgin? recount I do beseech thee, Come
sit by me.
Mar.
My name is Marina.
Per.
Oh I am mockt, and thou by some insenced god
sent hither to make the world to laugh at me.
Mar.
Patience, good sir, or here I'le cease.
Per.
Nay I'le be patient, thou little know'st how thou
doest startle me to call thy self Marina.
Mar.
The name was given me by one that had some
power, my father and a King.
Per.
How, a Kings daughter, and call'd Marina?
Mar.
You said you would believe me, but not to be a
trouble of your peace, I will end here.
Per.
But are you flesh and bloud?
Have you a working pulse, and are no Fairy?
Motion? well speak on, where were you born?
And wherefore call'd Marina?
Mar.
Call'd Marina, for I was born at sea.
Per.
At sea? who was thy mother?
Mar.
My mother was the Daughter of a King, who
died the minute I was born, as my good Nurse Lychorida
hath oft delivered weeping.
Per.
O stop there a little, this is the rarest dream
That ere dull sleep did mock sad fools withall,
This cannot be my daughter; buried! well, where were
you bred? I'le hear you more to the bottome of your story
and never interrupt you.
Mar.
You scorn, believe me 'twere best I did give ore.
Per.
I will believe you by the syllable of what you
shall deliver, yet give me leave, how came you in these
parts? where were you bred?
Mar.
The King my Father did in Tharsus leave me,
Till cruel Cleon with his wicked wife,
Did seek to murther me: and having wooed a villain
To attempt it, who having drawn to do't,
A crew of Pyrats came and rescued me,
Brought me to Metaline.
But, good sir, whether will you have me? why do you weep?
It may be you think me an imposture, no good faith. I am
the daughter to King Pericles, if good King Pericles be.
Per.
Hoe, Hellicanus?
Hell.
Call's my Lord?
Per.
Thou art a grave and noble Counsellor,
Most wise in general, tell me if thou can'st, what this maid is,
Or what is like to be, that thus hath made me weep?
Hell.
I know not, but here's the Regent, sir, of Metaline,
speaks nobly of her.
Lys.
She never would tell her parentage,
Being demanded that, she would sit still and weep.
Per.
Oh Hellicanus, strike me, honored sir, give me
a gash, put me to present pain, least this great sea of
joyes rushing upon me, ore-bear the shores of my mortality,
and drown me with their sweetnesse: Oh come
hither.
Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget,
Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tharsus,
And found at sea again: O Hellicanus,
Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods, as loud
As thunder threatens us; this is Marina.
What was thy mothers name? tell me but that,
For truth can never be confirm'd enough,
Though doubts did ever sleep.
Mar.
First, sir, I pray what is your Title?
Per.
I am Pericles of Tyre, but tell me now my
Droun'd Queens name, as in the rest you said,
Thou hast bin god-like perfect, the heir of Kingdomes,
And another like to Pericles thy father.
Mar.
Is it not more to be your daughter, then to say,
my Mothers name is Thaisa? Thaisa was my mother,
who did end the minute I began.
Per.
Now blessing on thee, rise, thou art my child.
Give me fresh garments, mine own Hellicanus, she is not
dead at Tharsus, as she should have been by savage
Cleon, she shall tell thee all, when thou shalt kneel, and
justifie in knowledge, she is thy very Princes; who is
this?
Hell.
Sir, 'tis thee Governor of Metaline, who hearing
of your melancholly, did come to see you.
Per.
I embrace you; give me my robes;
I am wild in my beholding. Oh heaven blesse my girle.
But hark, what Musick's this Hellicanus? my Marina,
Tell him ore point by point, for yet he seems to doat,
How sure you are my daughter; but where's this musick?
Hell.
My Lord, I hear none.
Per.
None? the musick of the sphears, list my Marina.
Lys.
It is not good to crosse him, give him way.
Per.
Rarest sounds, do ye not hear?
Lys.
Musick, my Lord, I hear.
Per.
Most heavenly musick,
It nips me unto listning, and thick slumber
Hangs upon mine eyes, let me rest,
Lys.
A pillow for his head, so leave him all.
Well my companion friends, if this but answer to my
just belief, I'le well remember you.
William Shakespeare, 1564-1616 [1664], NA (Printed for P.C., London) [word count] [S10537].
