still observed; and we are strong in custom.
Therefore briefly yield her; for she must over-
board straight.

Per. As you think meet. Most wretched queen !
Lyc. Here she lies, sir.

Per. A terrible childbed 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 60
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.

70

[Exit Lychorida.

Sec. Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready.

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

Sec. Sail. We are near Tarsus.

Per. Thither, gentle mariner,

Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?

Sec. Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease.

Per. O, make for Tarsus!

There will I visit Cleon, for the babe

Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it
At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner :

80

I'll bring the body presently.

[Exeunt.

Scene II.

Ephesus. A room in Cerimon's house.

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

shipwrecked.

Cer. Philemon, ho!

Enter Philemon.

Phil. Doth my lord call?

Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men:

'T has been a turbulent and stormy night.

Serv. I have been in many; but such a night as this
Till now, I ne'er endured.

Cer. Your master will be dead ere you return;

There's nothing can be minister'd to nature
That can recover him. [To Philemon] Give this to

the 'pothecary,

And tell me how it works.

[Exeunt all but Cerimon.

Enter two Gentlemen.

First Gent.

Good morrow.

Sec. Gent. Good morrow to your lordship.

Cer.

Why do you stir so early?

Gentlemen,

First Gent. Sir,

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.

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

Cer.

O, you say well.

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

Cer.

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.

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. 'Tis known, I ever
Have studied physic, through which secret art,
By turning o'er authorities, I have,

20

30

Together with my practice, made familiar
To me and to my aid the blest infusions
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
And I can speak of the disturbances

That nature works, and of her cures; which doth

give me

A more content in course of true delight
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,

Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,

To please the fool and death.

40

Sec. Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves

Your creatures, who by you have been restored :
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 or three Servants with a chest.

First Serv. So; lift there.

Cer. What's that?

First Serv. Sir,

Even now did the sea toss up upon our shore

This chest: 'tis of some wreck.

Cer. Set't down, let's look upon 't.

Sec. 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'ercharged with gold,

'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.

Sec. Gent. 'Tis so, my lord.

Cer. How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed! Did the

sea cast it up ?

First Serv. I never saw so huge a billow, sir, as toss'd it upon shore.

Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense. Sec. Gent. A delicate odour.

Cer. As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.

O you most potent gods! what's here ? a corse! First Gent. Most strange!

Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state; balmed and entreasured With full bags of spices! A passport too!

Apollo, perfect me in the characters!

'Here I give to understand,

If e'er this coffin drive a-land,
I, King Pericles, have lost

50

60

[Reads from a scroll.

This queen, worth all our mundane cost.

70

Who finds her, give her burying;
She was the daughter of a king :
Besides this treasure for a fee,
The gods requite his charity!'

If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart
That even cracks for woe! This chanced to-night.

Sec. Gent. Most likely, sir.
Cer.

Nay, certainly to-night;

For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough
That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within : 80

Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.

[Exit a servant.

Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian
That had nine hours lien dead,

Who was by good appliance recovered.

Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.

Well said, well said; the fire and cloths.

The rough and woful music that we have,

Cause it to sound, beseech you.

The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block!
The music there! I pray you, give her air.

91

Gentlemen,

This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth
Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced

Above five hours: see how she 'gins to blow

Into life's flower again!

First Gent.

Through you, increase our wonder, and set up
Your fame for ever.

The heavens,