Imatges de pàgina
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In a litigious peace. You, and your lady,

Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods
Make up the rest upon you!

Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you murtally,

Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.

Dion.

O your fweet queen!

That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her hi

ther,

To have blefs'd mine eyes!

Per.

We cannot but obey
The powers above us. Could I rage and roar
As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end
Must be as 'tis. My babe Marina (whom
For fhe was born at sea, I have nam'd fo) here
I charge your charity withal, and leave her
The infant of your care; befeeching you
To give her princely training, that she may be
Manner'd as the is born.

Cle.

Fear not, my lord:
Your grace, that fed my country with your corn,
(For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,)
Muft in your child be thought on. If neglection
Should therein make me vile, the common body,
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;

Till the be married, madam,

Your honour and your goodness teach me credit,

Without your vows.

By bright Diana, whom we honour all,
Unfciffar'd fhall this hair of mine remain,

Though I fhow will in't. So I take my leave.

Good madam, make me bleffed in your care
In bringing up my child.

Dion.

I have one myself,

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 even to the edge o'the shore; Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune, and

The gentlest winds of heaven.

Per.

I will embrace

Your offer. Come, dear'ft madam.-O, no tears,
Lychorida, no tears:

Look to your little mistress, on whose grace
You may depend hereafter.-Come, my lord.

SCENE IV.

Ephefus. A Room in Cerimon's House.

Enter CERIMON and THAISA.

[Exeunt.

Cer. Madam, this letter, and fome certain jewels,
Lay with you in your coffer: which are now
At your command. Know you the character?
Tha. It is my lord's.

That I was shipp'd at fea, I well remember,
Even on my yearning time; but whether there
Delivered or no, by the holy gods,

I cannot rightly say: But fince 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 you speak, Diana's temple is not distant far,

Where

Where

you may 'bide until your date expire. Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine Shall there attend you.

Tha. My recompence is thanks, that's all;

Yet my good will is great, though the gift finall. [Exeunt.

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ACT IV.

Enter GOWER.

Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre,
Welcom'd, to his own defire.
His woful queen leave at Ephefs,
To Dian there a votarefs.

Now to Marina bend your mind,
Whom our faft-growing scene must find
At Tharfus, and by Cleon train'd
In mufick, letters; who hath gain'd
Of education all the grace,

Which makes her both the heart 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 hath our Cleon
One daughter, and a wench full grown,
Even ripe for marriage fight; this maid
Hight Philoten: and it is faid
For certain in our story, fhe
Would ever with Marina be:

Be't when the weav'd the fleided filk
With fingers, long, small, white as milk;
Or when she would with sharp neeld wound
The cambrick, which fhe made more found
By hurting it; or when to the lute

She fung, and made the night-bird mute,

That ftill records with moan; or when
She would with rich and constant pen
Vail to her mistress Dian; ftill

This Philoten contends in skill
With abfolute Marina: fo

With the dove of Paphos might the crow
Vie feathers white. Marina gets

All praises, which are paid as debts,
And not as given. This fo darks
In Philoten all graceful marks,
That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,
A prefent murderer does prepare
For good Marina, that her daughter
Might stand peerlefs by this flaughter.
The fooner her vile thoughts to stead,
Lychorida, our nurse, is dead;
And curfed Dionyza hath

The pregnant inftrument of wrath

Preft for this blow. The unborn event

I do commend to your content:

Only I carry winged time

Poft on the lame feet of my rhyme;
Which never could I fo convey,

Unless your thoughts went on my way.

Dionyza does appear,

With Leonine, a murderer,

[Exit,

SCENE

E 2

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