Dion. Cle. Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods Be one of those that think To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, From honourable sources. 20 Dion. Be it so, then : Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead, Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. 30 She did distain my child, and stood between Her and her fortunes: none would look on her, But cast their gazes on Marina's face; Whilst ours was blurted at, and held a malkin, Not worth the time of day. It pierced me thorough; And though you call my course unnatural, You not your child well loving, yet I find Cle. It greets me as an enterprise of kindness Perform'd to your sole daughter. Dion. And as for Pericles, Cle. What should he say? We wept after her hearse, And yet we mourn: her monument Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs In glittering golden characters express A general praise to her, and care in us At whose expense 'tis done. Thou art like the harpy, Heavens forgive it! 40 Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face, Seize with thine eagle's talons. Dion. You are like one that superstitiously Doth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies: But yet I know you'll do as I advise. 50 [Exeunt. Scene IV. Enter Gower, before the monument of Marina at Tarsus. From bourn to bourn, region to region. Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, 20 DUMB SHOW Enter Pericles at one door, with all his train; Cleon and Dionyza at the other. Cleon shows Pericles the tomb; whereat Pericles makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Then exeunt Cleon, Dionyza, ana the rest. See how belief may suffer by foul show! This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe; And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd, With sighs shot through and biggest tears o'ershower'd, Leaves Tarsus and again embarks. He swears Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs : He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears, 30 [Reads the inscription on Marina's monument. The epitaph is for Marina writ By wicked Dionyza. 'The fairest, sweet'st and best, lies here, Who wither'd in her spring of year. She was of Tyrus the king's daughter, On whom foul death hath made this slaughter; No visor does become black villany So well as soft and tender flattery. 40 Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead, And bear his courses to be ordered By Lady Fortune; while our scene must play And think you now are all in Mytilene. Scene V. Mytilene. A street before the brothel. First Gent. Did you ever hear the like? Sec. Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone. First. Gent. But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a thing? Sec. Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdyhouses: shall's go hear the vestals sing? First Gent. I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road of rutting for ever. Scene VI. The same. A room in the brothel. 50 [Exit. [Exeunt. 10 Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she had ne'er come here. Bawd. Fie, fie upon her! she's able to freeze the god Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We must either get her ravished or be rid of her. When she should do for clients her fitment and do me the kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks, her reasons, her master reasons, her prayers, her knees; that she would make a puritan of the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her. Boult. Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all our cavaliers and make all our swearers priests. Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me! Boult. We should have both lord and lown, if the tomers. Enter Lysimachus. Lys. How now! How a dozen of virginities? Lys. You may so; 'tis the better for you that your Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she would-but there never came her like in Mytilene. Lys. If she'ld do the deed of darkness, thou wouldst 30 say. Bawd. Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough. Lys. Well, call forth, call forth. Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but |