Dionysia.
Per.
Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone,
My twelve Months are expir'd, and Tyre stands
In a peace; you and your Lady take from my Heart
All Thankfulness. The Gods make up the rest upon you.
Cle.
Your shakes of Fortune, though they hate you
Mortally, yet glance full wondringly on us.
Dion.
O your sweet Queen!
That the strict Fates had pleas'd you'd brought her hither,
To have blest mine Eyes with her.
Per.
We cannot but obey the Pow'rs above us;
Could I rage and roar as doth the Sea she lyes in,
Yet the end must be as 'tis: My gentle Babe, Marina,
Whom, for she was born at Sea, I have nam'd so,
-- 2881 --
Here, I charge your Charity withal; leaving her
The Infant of your Care, beseeching you to give her
Princely training, that she may be manner'd as she is born.
Cle.
Fear not, my Lady, but think your Grace,
That fed my Country with your Corn; for which,
The Peoples Prayers daily fall upon you, must in your Child
Be thought on, if neglect should therein make me vile,
The common Body that's by you reliev'd,
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.
Per.
I believe you, your Honour and your Goodness,
Teach me to't without your Vows, 'till she be married,
Madam, by bright Diana, whom we honour,
All unsister'd shall this Heir of mine remain,
Though I shew will in't: So I take my leave:
Good Madam, make me blessed, in your care
In bringing up my Child.
Dion.
I've one my self, who shall not be more dear
To my respect than yours, my Lord.
Per.
Madam, my Thanks and Prayers.
Cle.
We'll bring your Grace to the Edge of the Shore,
then give you up to the masked Neptune, and the gentlest
Winds of Heav'n.
Per.
I will embrace your Offer. Come, dearest Madam:
O, no Tears, Lychorida, no Tears; look to your little Mistress,
on whose Grace you may depend hereafter: Come,
my Lord.
[Exeunt.
Enter Cerymon and Thaisa.
Cer.
Madam, this Letter, and some certain Jewels,
Lay with you in your Coffer,
Which are at your Command: Know you the Character?
Thai.
It is my Lord's; that I was ship'd at Sea,
I well remember, ev'n on my eaning time;
But whether there delivered, 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 ye speak,
Diana's Temple is not distant far,
-- 2882 --
Where you may abide 'till your date expire;
Moreover if you please, a Niece of mine,
Shall there attend you.
Thai.
My recompence is thanks, that's all,
Yet my good will is great, though the Gift small.
[Exeunt.
Enter Gower.
Gow.
Imagine Pericles arriv'd at Tyre,
Welcom'd and setled to his own desire;
His woful Queen we leave at Ephesus,
Unto Diana, there's a Votaress.
Now to Marina bend your mind,
Whom our fast growing Scene must find
At Tharsus, and by Cleon train'd
In Musicks Letters, who hath gain'd
Of Education all the Grace,
Which makes high both the Art 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, our Cleon hath
One Daughter and a full grown Wench,
Even ripe for Marriage sight: This Maid
Hight Philoten: And it is said
For certain in our Story, she
Would ever with Marina be,
Be't when they weav'd the sledded Silk,
With Fingers long, small, white as Milk,
Or when she would with sharp Needle wound
The Cambrick, which she made more sound
By hurting it, or when to th' Lute
She sung, and made the Night Bed mute,
That still records within one, or when
She would with rich and constant Pen,
Vail to her Mistress Dion still,
This Philoten contends in skill
With absolute Marina: So
The Dove of Paphos might with the Crow
Vy Feathers white. Marina gets
All Praises, which are paid as Debts,
-- 2883 --
And not as given, this so darks
In Philoten all graceful Marks,
That Cleon's Wife with Envy rare,
A present Murderer do's 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 Dionysia hath
The pregnant Instrument of wrath
Prest for this blow, the unborn Event,
I do commend to your Content,
Only I carried winged Time,
Post on the lame Feet of my Rhime,
Which never could I so convey,
Unless your Thoughts went on my way.
Dionysia doth appear,
With Leonine a Murderer.
[Exit.
Enter Dionysia, 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 in the World so soon,
To yield thee so much profit, let not Conscience
Which is but cold, inflaming thy love Bosom,
Enflame too nicely; nor let Pity, which
Even Women have cast off, melt thee,
But be a Soldier to thy purpose.
Leon.
I will do't, but yet she is a goodly Creature.
Dion.
The fitter then the Gods should have her.
Here she comes weeping for her only Mistress Death:
Thou art resolv'd?
Leon.
I am resolv'd.
Enter Marina with a Basket of Flowers.
Mar.
No: I will rob gay Tellus of her Weed,
To strew thy Grave with Flowers: The yellows, blews,
The purple Violets and Marigolds,
Shall as a Carpet hang upon thy Grave,
While Summer Days doth last. Ay me, poor Maid,
Born in a Tempest, when my Mother dy'd:
This World to me is like a lasting Storm,
Hurrying me from my Friends.
-- 2884 --
Dion.
How now, Marina? why de'ye weep alone?
How chance my Daughter is not with you?
Do not consume your Blood with sorrowing,
You have a Nurse of me. Lord! how your favour's
Chang'd, with this unprofitable woe:
Come give me your Flowers, e'er the Sea mar it,
Walk with Leonine, the Air is quick there,
And it pierces and sharpens the Stomach:
Come, Leonine, take her by the Arm, walk with her.
Mar.
No I pray you,
I'll not bereave you of your Servant.
Dion.
Come, come;
I love the King your Father, and your self,
With more than foreign Heart; we every day
Expect him here, when he shall come and find
Our Paragon, to all Reports thus blasted,
He will repent the breadth of his great Voyage,
Blame both my Lord and me, that we have taken
No care to your best Courses. Go I pray you,
Walk and be Chearful once again; reserve
That excellent Complexion, which did steal
The Eyes of Young and Old. Care not for me,
I can go home alone.
Mar.
Well, I will go,
But yet I have no desire to it.
Dion.
Come, come, I know 'tis good for you;
Walk half an Hour, Leonine, at the least.
Remember what I have said.
Leon.
I warrant you, Madam.
Dion.
I'll leave you, my sweet Lady, for a while;
Pray walk softly, do not heat your Blood:
What, I must have a care of you.
Exit.
Mar.
My thanks, sweet Madam. Is the Wind Westerly
that blows?
Leon.
South-West.
Mar.
When I was born, the Wind was North.
Leon.
Was't so?
Mar.
My Father, as Nurse saith, did never fear,
But cryed, good Seamen to the Sailors, galling
His kingly Hands,
Hailing the Ropes, and clasping to the Mast,
Endur'd a Sea that almost burst the Deck.
-- 2885 --
Leon.
When was this?
Mar.
When I was born,
Never was Waves nor Wind more violent,
And from the Ladder-Tackle, washes off
A Canvas Climer: Ha, faith one, wilt out?
And with a dropping Industry they skip
From Stern to Stern:
The Boat-swain whistles, and the Master calls
And trebbles their Confusion.
Leon.
Come, say your Prayers.
Mar.
What mean you?
Leon.
If you require a little space for Prayer,
I grant it; pray, but be not tedious,
For the Gods are quick of Ear,
And I am sworn to do my Work with haste.
Mar.
Why will you kill me?
Leon.
To satisfie my Lady.
Mar.
Why would she have me kill'd now? as I can
Remember by my Troth, I never did hurt her
In all my Life, I never spake bad word,
Nor did ill turn to any living Creature;
Believe me now, I never kill'd a Mouse,
Nor hurt a Fly. I trode upon a Worm once
Against my will, but I wept for it. How have I offended,
Wherein my Death might yield her any profit,
Or my Life imply her any danger?
Leon.
My Commission
Is not to reason of the Deed, but do it.
Mar.
You will not do't for all the World, I hope:
You are well-favour'd, and your Looks fore-shew
You have a very gentle Heart. I saw you lately,
When you caught Hurt in parting two that fought:
Good sooth, it shewed well in you, do so now,
Your Lady seeks my Life, come you between,
And save poor Me the weaker.
Leon.
I am sworn, and will dispatch.
Enter Pirates.
1 Pirat.
Hold, Villain.
2 Pirat.
A prize! a prize!
3 Pirat.
Half part, Mates, half part. Come, let's have
her aboard suddenly.
[Exeunt.
-- 2886 --
Enter Leonine.
Leon.
These roguing Thieves serve the great Pirate Valdes,
And they have seized Marina, let her go,
There's no hope she will return: I'll swear she's dead,
And thrown into the Sea; but I'll see further,
Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her,
Not carry her aboard, if she remain,
Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain.
[Exit.
Enter Pander, Boult and Bawd.
Pand.
Boult.
Boult.
Sir.
Pand.
Search the Market narrowly, Metalline is full of
Gallants, we lost too much Mony this Mart, by being too
Wenchless.
Bawd.
We were never so much out of Creatures, we
have but poor three, and they can do no more than they
can do, and they with continual Action, are even as good
as rotten.
Pand.
Therefore let's have fresh ones what e'er we pay
for them, if there be not a Conscience to be us'd in every
Trade, we shall never prosper.
Bawd.
Thou say'st true, 'tis not our bringing up of poor
Bastards, as I think, I brought some eleven.
Boult.
I too eleven, and brought them down again,
But shall I search the Market?
Bawd.
What else, Man? The Stuff we have, a strong
Wind will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden.
Pand.
Thou say'st true, there's two unwholesome in Conscience,
the poor Transilvanian is dead that lay with the little
Baggage.
Boult.
Ay, she quickly poup'd him, she made him Roast-Meat
for Worms, but I'll go search the Market.
[Exit.
Pand.
Three or four thousand Chickens were as pretty a
Proportion to live quietly, and so give over.
Bawd.
Why, to give over, I pray you? Is it a shame
to get when we are old?
Pand.
Oh our Credit comes not in like the Commodity,
nor the Commodity wages not with the Danger: Therefore,
if in our Youths we could pick up some pretty Estate,
'twere not amiss to keep our Door hatch'd; besides the sore
terms we stand upon with the Gods, will be strong with us
for giving o'er.
-- 2887 --
Bawd.
Come, other sorts offend as well as we.
Pand.
As well as we, ay, and better too, we offend worse,
neither is our Profession any Trade, it's no Calling: But
here comes Boult.
Enter Boult with Pirates, and Marina.
Boult.
Come your ways, my Masters, you say she's a
Virgin?
Pirat.
O Sir, we doubt it not.
Boult.
Master, I have gone through for this Piece you
see, if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my Earnest.
Bawd.
Boult, has she any Qualities?
Boult.
She has a good Face, speaks well, and hath excellent
good Cloaths: There's no farther necessity of Qualities
can make her be refused.
Bawd.
What's her Price, Boult?
Boult.
I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand Pieces.
Pand.
Well, follow me, my Masters, you shall have your
Mony presently: Wife, take her in, instruct her what she
has to do, that she may not be raw in her Entertainment.
Bawd.
Boult, take you the Marks of her, the Colour
of her Hair, Complexion, Height, Age, with warrant
of her Virginity, and Cry: He that will give most shall
have her first. Such a Maiden-head were no cheap thing;
if Men were as they have been: Get this done as I command
you.
Boult.
Performance shall follow.
[Exit.
Mar.
Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow:
He should have struck, not spoke;
Or that these Pirates, not enough barbarous,
Had not o'er-board thrown me, for to seek my Mother.
Bawd.
Why weep you, pretty one?
Mar.
That I am pretty.
Bawd.
Come, the Gods have done their part in you.
Mar.
I accuse them not.
Bawd.
You are light into my Hands, where you are like
to live.
Mar.
The more's my Fault to 'scape his Hands,
Where I was like to dye.
Bawd.
Ay, and you shall live in Pleasure.
Mar.
No.
-- 2888 --
Bawd.
Yes indeed shall you, and taste Gentlemen of all
Fashions. You shall fare well; you shall have the difference
of all Complexions: What, de'ye stop your Ears?
Mar.
Are you a Woman?
Bawd.
What would you have me to be, if I be not a
Woman?
Mar.
An honest Woman, or not a Woman.
Bawd.
Marry whip thee, Gosling: I think I shall have
something to do with you. Come, y'are a young foolish
Sapling, and must be bowed as I would have ye.
Mar.
The Gods defend me.
Bawd.
If it please the Gods to defend you by Men, then
Men must comfort you, Men must feed you, Men must
stir you up: Boult's return'd.
Enter Boult.
Now, Sir, hast thou cry'd her through the Market?
Boult.
I have cry'd her almost to the number of her Hairs,
I have drawn her Picture with my Voice.
Bawd.
And prithee tell me, how dost thou find the Inclination
of the People, especially of the younger sort?
Boult.
Faith they listned to me, as they would have
hearkened to their Father's Testament. There was a Spaniard's
Mouth so watered, that he went to Bed to her very
Description.
Bawd.
We shall have him here to Morrow with his best
Ruff on.
Boult.
To Night, to Night. But, Mistress, do you know
the French Knight that cowres i'th' Hams?
Bawd.
Who, Monsieur Verollus?
Boult.
Ay, he offered to cut a Caper at the Proclamation,
but he made a Groan at it, and swore he would see her to
Morrow.
Bawd.
Well, well, as for him, he brought his Disease
hither, here he doth but repair it, I know he will come
in our Shadow, to scatter his Crowns in the Sun.
Boult.
Well, if we had of every Nation a Traveller, we
should lodge them with this Sign.
Bawd.
Pray you, come hither a while, you have Fortunes
coming upon you, mark me, you must seem to do
that fearfully, which you commit willingly; despise Profit,
where you have most Gain; to weep that you live as you
-- 2889 --
do, makes pity in your Lovers seldom, but that pity begets
you a good Opinion, and that Opinion a meer profit.
Mar.
I understand you not.
Boult.
O take her home, Mistress, take her home, these
Blushes of hers must be quencht with some present Practice.
Bawd.
Thou sayest true i'faith, so they must, for your
Bride goes to that with shame, which is her way to go with
warrant.
Boult.
Faith some do, and some do not; but Mistress, if
I have bargain'd for the Joynt.
Bawd.
Thou may'st cut a Morsel off the Spit.
Boult.
I may so.
Bawd.
Who should deny it?
Come young one, I like the manner of your Garments well.
Boult.
Ay, by my Faith, they shall not be changed yet.
Bawd.
Boult, spend thou that in the Town, report what
a Sojourner we have, you'll lose nothing by Custom. When
Nature framed this Piece, she meant thee a good Turn,
therefore say what a Paragon she is, and thou hast the Harvest
out of thine own Report.
Boult.
I warrant you Mistress, Thunder shall not so awake
the Beds of Eels, as my giving out of her Beauty stirs up
the Lewdly enclined, I'll bring home some to Night.
Bawd.
Come your ways, follow me.
Mar.
If Fires be hot, Knives sharp, or Waters deep,
Unty'd I still my Virgin-knot will keep.
Diana, aid my purpose.
Bawd.
What have we to do with Diana? pray you go
with us.
[Exeunt.
Enter Cleon and Dionysia.
Dion.
Why are you foolish, can it be undone?
Cle.
O Dionysia, such a piece of Slaughter,
The Sun and Moon ne'er look'd upon.
Dion.
I think you'll turn a Child again.
Cle.
Were I chief Lord of all this spacious World,
I'd give it to undo the deed. O Lady, much less in Blood
than Virtue, yet a Princess to equal any single Crown of the
Earth, in the justice of compare: O Villain, Leonine, whom
thou hast Poisoned too, if thou had'st drunk to him, it had
been a kindness becoming well thy Face; what can'st thou
say, when Noble Pericles shall demand his Child?
-- 2890 --
Dion.
That she is dead. Nurses are not the Fates to
foster it, nor ever to preserve; she dy'd at Night, I'll say
so, who can cross it, unless you play the Innocent? and for
an honest Attribute, cry out, she dy'd by foul Play.
Cle.
O go to, well, well, of all the Faults beneath the
Heav'ns, the Gods do like this worst.
Dion.
Be one of those that thinks the pretty Wrens of
Tharsus will fly hence, and open this to Pericles; I do shame
to think of what a noble Strain you are, and of how coward
a Spirit.
Cle.
To such proceeding, who ever but his Approbation
added, though not his whole Consent, he did not flow
from honourable Courses.
Dion.
Be it so then, yet none doth know but you how
she came dead, nor none can know, Leonine being gone. She
did disdain my Child, and stood between her and her Fortunes:
None would look on her, but cast their Gazes on
Marina's Face, whilst ours was blurred at, and held a
Mawkin, not worth the time of day. It pierc'd me thorow,
and though you call my Course unnatural, you not your
Child well loving, yet I find it greets me as an enterprize of
Kindness perform'd to your sole Daughter.
Cle.
Heav'ns forgive it.
Dion.
And as for Pericles, what should he say?
We wept after her Hearse, and yet we mourn:
Her Monument almost finished, and her Epitaph
In glittering golden Characters, express
A general Praise to her, and Care in us,
At whose Expence 'tis done.
Cle.
Thou art like the Harpie,
Which to betray, dost with thy Angel's Face,
Seize with thine Eagle's Talons.
Dion.
You are like one, that superstitiously
Doth swear to th' Gods, that Winter kills the Flies,
But yet I know, you'll do as I advise.
[Exeunt.
-- 2891 --
Charles Gildon [1709–1710], The works of Mr. William Shakespear; in six [seven] volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe ([Vol. 7] Printed for E. Curll... and E. Sanger [etc.], London) [word count] [S11401].
