Gower.
She how Belief may suffer by foul show,
This borrow'd Passion stands for true old Woe:
And Pericles in sorrow all devour'd,
With Sighs shot through, and biggest Tears o'er-showr'd,
Leaves Tharsus, and again imbarks, he swears
Never to wash his Face, nor cut his Hairs,
He put on Sackcloth, and to Sea he bears,
A Tempest which his mortal Vessel tears.
And yet he rides it out. Now take we our way
To the Epitaph for Marina, writ by Dionysia.
-- 2892 --
The fairest, sweetest, and best lies here,
Who wither'd in her Spring of Year:
She was of Tyrus the King's Daughter,
On whom foul 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'erflow'd,
Hath Thetis Birth-child on the Heav'ns bestow'd.
Wherefore she does and swears 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 Daughter's dead,
And bear his Courses to be ordered
By Lady Fortune, while our stear must Play
His Daughter woe and heavy well-a-day,
In her unholy Service: Patience then,
And think you now are all in Metaline.
[Exit.
Enter two Gentlemen.
1 Gent.
Did you ever hear the like?
2 Gent.
No, nor never shall do in such a place as this,
she being once gone.
1 Gent.
But to have Divinity preacht there, did you
ever dream of such a thing?
2 Gent.
No, no, come, I am for no more Bawdy-houses,
shall we go hear the Vestals sing?
1 Gent.
I'll do any thing now that is Virtuous, but I
am out of the road of Rutting for ever.
[Exeunt.
Enter the three Bawds.
Pand.
Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her
she had ne'er come here.
Bawd.
Fie, fie upon her, she is able too freeze the God
Priapus, and undo a whole Generation, we must either get her
Ravisht, or be rid of her; when she should do for Clyents
her fitment, and do me the kindness of our Profession, she has
me her Quirks, her Reasons, her Master-reasons, her Prayers,
her Knees, that she would make a Puritan of the Devil, if
he should cheapen a Kiss of her.
Boult.
Faith I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all
our Cavaliers, and make all our Swearers Priests.
-- 2893 --
Pand.
Now the Pox upon her Green-sickness for me.
Bawd.
Faith there's no way to be rid of it, but by the way
to the Pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguis'd.
Boult.
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 bless 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 deal withal, 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 do the Deeds of Darkness, thou would'st say.
Bawd.
Your Honour knows 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 less than
it gives a good Report to a number to be Chast.
Enter Marina.
Bawd.
Here comes that which grows to the stalk,
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'll have done presently.
Lys.
I beseech you do.
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 Governor of this Country, and a
Man whom I am bound to.
Mar.
If he govern the Country, you are bound to him
indeed, but how honourable he is in that, I know not.
-- 2894 --
Bawd.
Pray you without any more virginal fencing, will
you use him kindly? He will line your Apron with Gold.
Mar.
What he will do graciously, I will thankfully receive.
Lys.
Have you done?
Bawd.
My Lord, she's not pac'd yet, you must take some
Pains to work her to your manage; come, we will leave his
Honour and her together.
[Exit Bawd.
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'er 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, proclaims you to be
a Creature of Sale.
Mar.
Do 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 Governor of this place.
Lys.
Why? hath your Principal made known unto you,
who I am?
Mar.
Who is my Principal?
Lys.
Why your Herb-woman, she that sets Seeds and
Roots of Shame and Iniquity. O you have heard something
of my Power, and so stand aloof 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 Judgment 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 than Physick: O that the Gods
-- 2895 --
Would set me free from this unhallow'd Place,
Though they did change me to the meanest Bird
That flies i'th' purer Air.
Lys.
I did not think
Thou could'st have spoke so well, I ne'er dream'd thou
could'st;
Had I brought hither a corrupted Mind,
Thy Speech had alter'd it; hold, here's Gold for thee,
Persevere in that clear way thou goest,
And the Gods strengthen thee.
Mar.
The good Gods preserve you.
Lys.
For my part, I came with no ill intent, for to me
The very Doors and Windows savour vilely.
Fare thee well,
Thou art a piece of Virtue, 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.
Lys.
Avant thou damn'd Door-keeper,
Your House, but for this Virgin that doth prop it,
Would sink and overwhelm you. Away.
[Exit.
Boult.
How's this? We must take another course with
you? If your peevish Chastity, which is not worth a Breakfast
in the cheapest Country under the coap, shall undo a
whole Houshold, let me be gelded like a Spaniel; come
your ways.
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 driv'n away; come your ways, I say.
Enter Bawd.
Bawd.
How now, what's the matter?
Boult.
Worse and worse, Mistress, she hath here spoken
holy words to the Lord Lysimachus.
Bawd.
O abominable.
Boult.
She makes our Profession as it were to stink before
the Face of the Gods.
Bawd.
Marry hang her up for ever.
-- 2896 --
Boult.
The Nobleman would have dealt with her like a
Nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a Snow-ball;
saying his Prayers too.
Bawd.
Boult, take her away, use her at thy Pleasure, crack
the Glass of her Virginity, and make the rest malleable.
Boult.
And if she were a thornier Piece of Ground than
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 Bays.
[Exit.
Boult.
Come, Mistress, come your ways with me.
Mar.
Whither would you have me?
Boult.
To take from you the Jewel you hold so dear.
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 Mistress.
Mar.
Neither of these are yet so bad as thou art,
Since they do better thee in their Command;
Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st Fiend
In Hell would not in Reputation change:
Thou art the damn'd Door-keeper 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 belch'd on by infectious Lungs.
Boult.
What would you have me do? go to the Wars,
would you, where a Man may serve seven Years for the loss
of a Leg, and have not Mony 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 ways are yet better than 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, Sow, and Dance,
-- 2897 --
With other Virtues, which I'll keep from boast,
And I will undertake all these to teach.
I doubt not but this populous City will yield many Scholars.
Boult.
But can you teach all this you speak of?
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 Mistress have 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'll do for thee what
I can, come your ways.
[Exeunt.
Enter Gower.
Marina thus the Brothel scapes, and chances
Into an honest House, our Story says:
She sings like one immortal, and she dances
As Goddess-like to her admired Laies:
Deep Clerks 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 driv'n before the Wind, he is arriv'd
Here where his Daughter dwells, and on this Coast,
Suppose him now at Anchor: The City striv'd
God Neptune's 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,
In your supposing, once more put your sight
Our heavy Pericles, think this his Bark,
-- 2898 --
Where what is done in Action, more of might
Shall be discover'd, please you sit and hark.
[Exit.
Enter Hellicanus, to him two Sailors.
1 Sail.
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 Sail.
Ho, Gentlemen, my Lord calls.
Enter two or three Gentlemen.
Hell.
Gentlemen, there is some of worth would come aboard,
I pray ye greet them fairly.
Enter Lysimachus.
1 Sail.
Sir, this is the Man that can, in ought you would,
resolve you.
Lys.
Hail, reverend 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, honouring of Neptune's 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 lye 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 loss 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
Distaster that one mortal wight drove him to this.
Lys.
Sir King, all hail, the Gods preserve you, hail, Royal
Sir.
-- 2899 --
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 questionless 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 levy shelter that abuts against
the Island side.
Hell.
Sure all effectless, yet nothing we'll omit that bears
recoveries Name. But since your Kindness we have strecht
thus far, 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 Graff would send a Caterpillar, and
so inflict our Province; yet once more let me entreat to know
at large the Cause of your King's Sorrow.
Hell.
Sir, 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 Choice, and think me rarely wed.
Fair, and all Goodness 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.
Mark'd he your Musick?
Mar.
No, nor look'd on us.
-- 3000 --
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 ne'er before invited
Eyes, but have been gazed on like a Comet: She speaks,
my Lord, that, may be, hath endured a Grief might equal
yours, if both were justly weighed; though wayward Fortune
did maligne my State, my Derivation was from Ancestors
who stood equivalent 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 Country-women hear of
these shews?
Mar.
No, nor of any shews, yet I was mortally brought
forth, and am no other than I appear.
Per.
I am great with wo, and shall deliver weeping:
My dearest Wife was like this Maid, and such a one my
Daughter might have been: My Queen's square Brows,
her Stature to an Inch, as wand-like straight, as Silver voic'd,
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, falseness 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
-- 3001 --
make my Senses credit thy Relation, to points that seem
impossible, for thou look'st like one I lov'd indeed; what
were thy Friends? Didst thou not stay when I did push
thee back: Which was when I perceiv'd thee that thou cam'st
from good Descent.
Mar.
So indeed I did.
Per.
Report thy Parentage, I think thou saidst thou
hadst been tost from Wrong to Injury, and that thou
thought'st thy Griefs might equal 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 Girl; yet thou dost 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 mock'd, and thou by some incensed God
sent hither to make the World to laugh at me.
Mar.
Patience, good Sir, or here I'll cease.
Per.
Nay, I'll 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 King's 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 Blood?
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.
-- 2902 --
Per.
O stop there a little, this is the rarest Dream
That e'er dull Sleep did mock sad Fools withal:
This cannot be my Daughter; buried! well, where were
you bred? I'll hear you more to the bottom of your Story,
and never interrupt you.
Mar.
You scorn, believe me 'twere best I did give o'er.
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 woed 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, whither will you have me? why do you
weep? It may be you think me an Impostor, no, good faith.
I am the Daughter to King Pericles, if good King Pericles
be.
Per.
Ho, Hellicanus?
Hell.
Calls 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, honoured Sir, give me a
gash, put me to present Pain, lest this great Sea of Joys
rushing upon me, o'er-bear the Shores of my Mortality, and
drown me with their Sweetness: 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 Mother's Name? tell me but that,
For Truth can never be confirm'd enough,
Though Doubts did ever sleep.
-- 2903 --
Mar.
First, Sir, I pray what is your Title?
Per.
I am Pericles of Tyre, but tell me now my
Drown'd Queen's Name, as in the rest you said,
Thou hast been god-like perfect, the Heir of Kingdoms,
And another like to Pericles thy Father.
Mar.
Is it not more to be your Daughter, than to say,
my Mother's 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 Princess; who is this?
Hell.
Sir, 'tis the Governor of Metaline, who hearing of
your Melancholy, did come to see you.
Per.
I embrace you; give me my Robes;
I am wild in my beholding. Oh Heav'n bless my Girl.
But hark, what Musick's this, Hellicanus? my Marina,
Tell him o'er 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, lift, my Marina.
Lys.
It is not good to cross-him, give him way.
Per.
Rarest sounds, do ye not hear?
Lys.
Musick, my Lord, I hear.
Per.
Most Heav'nly 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'll well remember you.
-- 3004 --
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].
