By the four opposing coignes,
Which the world together joins,
Is made, with all due diligence,

That horse, and sail, and high expence,
Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre
(Fame answering the most strange inquire,)
To the court of king Simonides

Are letters brought, the tenour these:
Antiochus and his daughter dead:
The men of Tyrus on the head
Of Helicanus would set on

The crown of Tyre, but he will none:
The mutiny he there hastes t' oppress;
Says to them, if king Pericles

Come not home in twice six moons,

He, obedient to their dooms,

'Our heir apparent is a king!

Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?”

Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre:
His queen, with child, makes her desire
(Which who shall cross?) along to go;
Omit we all their dole and woe:
Lychorida, her nurse, she takes,
And so to sea. Then, vessel shakes
On Neptune's billow; half the flood
Hath their keel cut; but fortune's mood
Varies again: the grizzly north
Disgorges such a tempest forth

That, as a duck for life that dives,
So up and down the poor ship drives.
The lady shrieks, and well-a-near,
Does fall in travail with her fear:
And what ensues in this self storm

[Exit.

Shall for itself itself perform.
I nill relate, action may
Conveniently the rest convey,
Which might not what by me is told.
In your imagination hold

This stage the ship, upon whose deck
The seas-tost Pericles appears to speak.

SCENE I.

Enter PERICLES, on shipboard.

Per. Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these surges,
Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast
Upon the winds command, bind them in brass,
Having call'd them from the deep. O! still

Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; duly quench
Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! - O! how, Lychorida,
How does my queen? - Thou storm, venomously
Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle

Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle

To those that cry by night, convey thy deity
Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs
Of my queen's travails! Now, Lychorida

Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant.

Lyc. Here is a thing too young for such a place,

Who, if it had conceit, would die as I

Am like to do. Take in your arms this piece

Of your dead queen.

Per.

How! how, Lychorida!

Lyc. Patience, good Sir; do not assist the storm. Here's all that is left living of your queen,

A little daughter: for the sake of it,

Be manly, and take comfort.

Per.

O you gods!

Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,

And snatch them straight away? We, here below,
Recall not what we give, and therein may

For a more blust'rous birth had never babe:

Quiet and gentle thy conditions!

For thou 'rt the rudeliest welcome to this world,
That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows!
Thou hast as chiding a nativity,

As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
To herald thee from the womb: even at the first,
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,

With all thou canst find here. Now the good gods
Throw their best eyes upon it!

Enter Two Sailors.

1 Sail. What courage, Sir? God save you.
Per. Courage enough. I do not fear the flaw;
It hath done to me the worst: yet, for the love
Of this poor infant, this fresh new sea-farer,
I would it would be quiet.

1 Sail. Slack the bowlines there; thou wilt not, wilt thou?. Blow, and split thyself.

2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.

1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.

Per. That's your superstition.

1 Sail. Pardon us, Sir; with us at sea it hath been still observed, and we are strong in earnest. Therefore briefly yield her, for she must overboard straight.

Per. As you think meet.
Lyc. Here she lies, Sir.

Most wretched queen!

Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear; No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements

Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time

To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;
Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
And aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale,
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida!
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe
Upon the pillow. Hie thee, whiles I say

A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

[Exit LYCHORIDA. 2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulk'd

and bitumed ready.

Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?

2 Sail. We are near Tharsus.

Per. Thither, gentle mariner,

Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?
2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease.
Per. O! make for Tharsus.

There will I visit Cleon, for the babe

Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it

Enter CERIMON, a Servant, and some Persons who have been

Cer. Philemon, ho!

Shipwrecked.

Enter PHILEmon.

Phil. Doth my lord call?

Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men:

It has 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.

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,
And tell me how it works.

[TO PHILEMON.

[Exeunt PHILEMON, Servant, and the rest.

Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,
Shook, as the earth did quake;

The very principals did seem to rend,

And all to topple. Pure surprise and fear

Made me to quit the house.

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, should at these early hours

Shake off the golden slumber of repose.

'Tis most strange,

Nature should be so conversant with pain,

Being thereto not compell'd.

Cer.

I hold it ever,

Virtue and cunning 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. 'T is known, I ever
Have studied physic, through which secret art,