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Hell. It is in vain, he will not fpeak to you.
Lord. Sir, we have a Maid in Metaline, I durft wager would win fome words from him.
Lyf. 'Tis well bethought, fhe questionlefs with her fweet Harmony, and other chofen Attractions, would allure and make a Battery through his defended Parts, which now are mid-way ftopr, fhe is all happy, as the fairest of all, and her fellow Maids, now upon the levy fhelter that abuts against the Island fide.
Hell. Sure all effectlefs, yet nothing we'll omit that bears recoveries Name. But fince your Kindnefs we have ftrecht thus far, let us befeech you, that for our Gold we may have Provifion, wherein we are not deftitute for want, but weary for the ftaleness.
Lyf. O, Sir, a Courtefie, which if we should deny, the moft juft God for every Graff would fend a Caterpillar, and fo inflict our Province; yet once more let me entreat to know at large the Caufe of your King's Sorrow.
Hell. Sir, Sir, I will recount it to you; but fee, I am prevented.
Hell. She's a gallant Lady.
Lyf. She's fuch a one, that were I well affur'd,
Mar. Sir, I will use my uttermoft Skill in his Recovery, provided that none but I and my Companion Maid be suffered to come near him.
Lyf. Come, let us leave her, and the Gods make her profperous.'
Lyf. Mark'd he your Mufick?
Lyf. See, fhe will speak to him.
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 juftly weighed; though wayward Fortune did maligne my State, my Derivation was from Anceftors who flood equivalent with mighty Kings, but time hath rooted out my Parentage, and to the World and aukward Cafualties bound me in fervitude; I will defift, but there is fomething glows upon my Cheek, and whispers in mine Ear, Go not 'till he fpeak.
Per. My Fortunes, Parentage, good Parentage to equal mine; was it not thus? what fay you?
Mar. I faid, my Lord, if you did know my Parentage, you would not do me Violence.
Per. I do think fo, pray you turn your Eyes upon me, y'are like fome-thing that, what Country-women hear of these fhews?
Mar. No, nor of any fhews, yet I was mortally brought forth, and am no other than I appear.
Per. I am great with wo, and fhall deliver weeping: My dearest Wife was like this Maid, and fuch a one my Daughter might have been: My Queen's fquare Brows, her Stature to an Inch, as wand-like straight, as Silver voic'd, her Eyes as Jewel-like, and caft as richly, in pace another Juno. Who ftarves the Ears fhe feeds, and makes them hungry, the more the gives them Speech; where do you live?
Mar. Where I am but a Stranger, from the Deck you may difcern the Place.
Per. Where were you bred? And how atchiev'd you these Endowments which you make more rich to owe?
Mar. If I fhould tell my Hiftory, it would feem like Lies difdain'd in the reporting.
Per. Prithee speak, falfenefs cannot come from thee, for thou lookeft modeft as Juftice, and thou feem'ft a Pallas for the crowned Truth to dwell in, I will believe thee, and
make my Senfes credit thy Relation, to points that feem impoffible, for thou look'ft like one I lov'd indeed; what were thy Friends? Didft thou not stay when I did push thee back: Which was when I perceiv'd thee that thou cam'st from good Defcent.
Mar. So indeed I did.
Per. Report thy Parentage, I think thou faidft thou hadft been toft from Wrong to Injury, and that thou thought'ft thy Griefs might equal mine, if both were opened.
Mar. Some fuch thing I said, and faid no more but what my Thoughts did warrant me was likely.
Per. Tell thy Story, if thine confidered prove the thoufand Part of my Endurance, thou art a Man, and I have fuffered like a Girl; yet thou doft look like Patience, gazing on Kings Graves, and fmiling Extremity out of act. What were thy Friends? how loft thou thy Name, my moft kind Virgin? recount I do befeech thee, Come fit by me.
Mar. My Name is Marina.
Per. Oh I am mock'd, and thou by fome incenfed God fent hither to make the World to laugh at me.
Mar. Patience, good Sir, or here I'll ceafe.
Per. Nay, I'll be patient, thou little know'ft how thou doeft ftartle me to call thy felf Marina.
Mar. The Name was given me by one that had fome Power, my Father and a King.
Per. How, a King's Daughter, and call'd Marina? Mar. You faid you would believe me, but not to be a trouble of your Peace, I will end here.
Per. But are you Flesh and Blood?
Mar. Call'd Marina, for I was born at Sea.
Mar. My Mother was the Daughter of a King, who died the Minute I was born, as my good Nurfe Lychorida hath oft delivered weeping.
Per. O ftop there a little, this is the rareft Dream That e'er dull Sleep did mock fad 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 fcorn, believe me 'twere beft I did give o'er. Per. I will believe you by the Syllable of what you fhall deliver, yet give me leave, how came you in these Parts? where were you bred?,
Mar. The King, my Father, did in Tharfus leave me. 'Till cruel Cleon with his wicked Wife,
Did feek to murther me: And having woed a Villain
But, good Sir, whither will you have me? why do you weep? It may be you think me an Impoftor, 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, Moft wife in general, tell me, if thou can't, what this Maid is,
Or what is like to be, that thus hath made me weep?
Lyf. She never would tell her Parentage.
Per. Oh Hellicanus, ftrike me, honoured Sir, give me a gafh, put me to prefent Pain, left this great Sea of Joys rufhing upon me, o'er-bear the Shores of my Mortality, and drown me with their Sweetnefs: Oh come hither. Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget,
Thou that waft born at Sea, buried at Tharfus,
Down on thy Knees, thank the holy Gods, as loud
Mar. First, Sir, I pray what is your Title?
Mar. Is it not more to be your Daughter, than to say, my Mother's Name is Thaifa? Thaifa was my Mother, who did end the minute I began.
Per. Now bleffing on thee, rife, thou art my Child. Give me fresh Garments, mine own Hellicanus, the is not dead at Tharfus, as the fhould have been by favage Cleon, fhe fhall tell thee all, when thou fhalt kneel, and juftifie in Knowledge, fhe is thy very Princefs; who is this?
Hell. Sir, 'tis the Governor of Metaline, who hearing of your Melancholy, did come to fee fee you. Per. I embrace you; give me my Robes;
I am wild in my beholding. Oh Heav'n bless my Girl.
Per. None? The Mufick of the Sphears, lift, my Marina.
It nips me unto liftning, and thick Slumber
Lyf. A Pillow for his Head, fo leave him all. Well my Companion Friends, if this but answer to my just belief, I'll well remember you.