Cer.
Philemon, ho! Enter Philemon.

Phil.
Doth my lord call?

Cer.
Get fire and meat for these poor men;
It hath been a turbulent and stormy night.

Ser.
I have been in many; but such a night as this,
Till now, I ne'er endur'd^{2 note}

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 'pothecary^{3 note},
And tell me how it works. [To Philemon. Enter two Gentlemen.

1 Gent.
Good morrow.

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 quake^{4 note}


;
The very principals did seem to rend,
And all to topple^{5 note}

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

Cer.
O you say well.

1 Gent.
But I much marvel that your lordship, having

Rich tire about you^{6 note}, should at these early hours
Shake off the golden slumber of repose:
It is most strange,
Nature should be so conversant with pain,
Being thereto not compell'd.

Cer.
I held it ever,
Virtue and cunning^{7 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, stones^{8 note}


;
And I can speak of the disturbances
That nature works, and of her cures; which gives me
A more content in course of true delight

Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
Or tie my pleasure up in silken bags,
To please the fool and death^{9 note}


.

2 Gent.
Your honour hath through Ephesus pour'd forth
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd:
And not your knowledge, your 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.

Ser.
So; lift there.

Cer.
What's that?

Ser.
Sir,
Even now did the sea toss upon our shore
This chest; 'tis of some wreck.

Cer.
Set it down, let us
Look upon 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'er-charg'd with gold,
It is a good constraint of Fortune, it
Belches upon us.

2 Gent.
It is so, my lord.

Cer.
How close 'tis caulk'd and bittum'd^{1 note}! Did the sea
Cast it up?

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

Cer.
Wrench it open;
Soft, soft—it smells most sweetly in my sense.

2 Gent.
A delicate odour.

Cer.
As ever hit my nostril; so,—up with it.
Oh you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!

1 Gent.
Most strange!

Cer.
Shrowded in cloth of state!
Balm'd and entreasur'd with full bags of spices!
A passport too! Apollo, perfect me
In the characters^{2 note}
!

Here I give to understand, [He reads out of a scrowl.
(If e'er this coffin drive a-land)
I king Pericles have lost
This queen, worth all our mundane cost^{3 note}.
Who finds her, give her burying,
She was the daughter of a king^{4 note}
:
Besides this treasure for a fee,
The gods requite his charity!
If thou liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heart
That even cracks for woe^{5 note}

2 Gent.
Most likely, sir.

Cer.
Nay, certainly to-night;
For look how fresh she looks!—They were too rough* ^note
That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within;
Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.
Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The o'er-prest spirits. I have heard of an
Egyptian that had nine hours lien dead^{6 note}
,
Who was by good appliance recovered. Enter a Servant with napkins and fire.
Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.—
The rough and woeful musick that we have,
Cause it to sound, 'beseech you^{7 note}
.
The vial once more;—How thou stir'st, thou block?—
The musick there^{8 note}

Gentlemen, this queen will live: Nature awakes;
A warmth breathes out of her^{9 note}

1 Gent.
The heavens,
Through you, encrease our wonder, and set up
Your fame for ever.

Cer.
She is alive; behold,
Her eye-lids, cases to those heavenly jewels^{1 note}

The diamonds of a most praised water
Do 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 this^{3 note}






?

2 Gent.
Is not this strange?

1 Gent.
Most rare.

Cer.
Hush, my gentle neighbours;
Lend me your hands: to the next chamber bear her.
Get linen; now this matter must be look'd to,
For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come,
And Esculapius guide us! [Exeunt, carrying her away.

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