Scene I.

Tarsus. An open place near the sea-shore.

Enter Dionyza with Leonine.

Dion. Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do't
'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon,
To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,
Which is but cold, inflaming love i' thy bosom,
Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which

Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be
A soldier to thy purpose.

Leon. I will do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.
Dion. The fitter then the gods should have her. 10

Here she comes weeping for her only mistress'
death. Thou art resolved?

Leon. I am resolved.

Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers.

Mar. No, I will rob Tullus of her weed,

To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues,
The purple violets, and marigolds,

Shall, as a carpet, hang upon thy grave,
While summer-days do last. Ay me! poor maid,
Born in a tempest, when my mother died,

This world to me is like a lasting storm,

Whirring me from my friends.

Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?

How chance my daughter is not with you?
Do not consume your blood with sorrowing:
You have a nurse of me. Lord, how your favour's
Changed with this unprofitable woe!

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Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it.

Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there,

And it pierces and sharpens the stomach.

Come, Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.

Mar. No, I pray you;

I'll not bereave you of your servant.

Dion. Come, come;

I love the king your father and yourself

With more than foreign heart. We every day
Expect him here: when he shall come, and find
Our paragon to all reports thus blasted,

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He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;
Blame both my lord and me, that we have taken
No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,
Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve
That excellent complexion, which did steal
The eyes of young and old. Care not for me ;
I can go home alone.

40

Mar.

Well, I will go;

But yet I have no desire to it.
Dion. Come, come, I know 'tis good for you.
Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least:
Remember what I have said.

Leon.

I warrant you, madam.

Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while:
Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood:
What! I must have care of you.

Mar

My thanks, sweet madam. 50

Is this wind westerly that blows?

[Exit Dionyza.

Leon.
South-west.
Mar. When I was born, the wind was north.

Leon.

Was't so?

Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear,

But cried Good seamen!' to the sailors, galling
His kingly hands, haling ropes;

And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea

A canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, 'wilt out?'
And with a dropping industry they skip

From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and

The master calls and trebles their confusion.

Leon. Come, say your prayers.

Mar. What mean you ?

Leon. If you require a little space for prayer,

Mar.

I grant it: pray; but be not tedious,

For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn

To do my work with haste.

Leon. To satisfy my lady.

Why will you kill me?

Mar. Why would she have me kill'd?

Now, as I can remember, by my troth,
I never did her hurt in all my life:
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn
To any living creature: believe me, la,
I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly:
I trod upon a worm against my will,
But I wept for it. How have I offended,
Wherein my death might yield her any profit,
Or my life imply her any danger?

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80

Leon. My commission

Is not to reason of the deed, but do't. Mar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope. You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshow You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately, When you caught hurt in parting two that fought : Good sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now : Your lady seeks my life; come you between, And save poor me, the weaker.

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Third Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part.

Come let's have her aboard suddenly.

[Exeunt Pirates with Marina.

Re-enter Leonine.

Leon. These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes; And they have seized Marina. Let her go:

There's no hope she will return. I'll swear she's

dead,

And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further: 100
Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her,
Not carry her aboard. If she remain,
Whom they have ravish'd must by me be slain.

[Exit.

Pand. Boult!

Boult. Sir?

Scene II.

Mytilene. A room in a brothel.
Enter Pandar, Bawd, and Boult.

Pand. Search the market narrowly; Mytilene is full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart by being too wenchless.

Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do; and they with continual action are even as good as rotten.

Pand. Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall never prosper.

Bawd. Thou sayest true: 'tis not our bringing up of
poor bastards, -as, I think, I have brought up
some eleven-

Boult. Ay, to eleven; and brought them down again.
But shall I search the market?

Bawd. What else, man? The stuff we have, a
strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so
pitifully sodden.

Pand. Thou sayest true; they're too unwholesome, o' conscience. The poor Transylvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.

Boult. Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat for worms. But I'll go search the

market.

[Exit.

Pand. Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over.