Shook, as the earth did quake;

1

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.2

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.

It is most strange,

Nature should be so conversant with pain,
Being thereto not compelled.

Cer.

I held it ever,

Virtue and cunning 3 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
(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 give me
A more content in course of true delight

Than to be thirsty after tottering honor,

Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,
To please the fool and death."

2 Gent. Your honor has through Ephesus poured forth
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restored;
And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even

1 The principals are the strongest rafters in the roof of a building. 2 Husbandry here signifies economical prudence.

3 i. e. knowledge.

4 Mr. Steevens had seen an old Flemish print in which Death was exhibited in the act of plundering a miser of his bags, and the Fool (discriminated by his bauble, &c.) was standing behind and grinning at the process.

Your purse, still open, hath built lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as time shall never-

Enter two Servants, with a chest.

Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest ; 'Tis of some wreck.

Serv. So; lift there.

Cer.

What is that?

Serv.

Sir, even now

Set't down; let's look on it.

Whate'er it be,

Cer.

2 Gent. 'Tis like a coffin, sir.

Cer.

'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight;
If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,
It is a good constraint of fortune, that

It belches upon us.

2 Gent.

'Tis so, my lord.

Cer. How close 'tis calked and bitumed !—

Did the sea cast it up?

Serv. I never saw so huge a billow, sir,

As tossed it upon shore.

Cer.

Come, wrench it open;

Soft, soft!-it smells most sweetly in my sense. 2 Gent. A delicate odor.

Cer. As ever hit my nostril; so,-up with it. O you most potent god! what's here? a corse! 1 Gent. Most strange!

Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state; balmed and en

treasured

With bags of spices full! A passport too!

Apollo, perfect me i' the characters!

[Unfolds a scroll.

Here I give to understand,

[Reads.

(If e'er this coffin drive a-land,)1

I, king Pericles, have lost

This queen, worth all our mundane cost.

1 In Twine's Translation of the story of Apollonius of Tyre, this

uncommon phrase, a-land, is repeatedly used.

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 liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heart

That even cracks for woe!-This chanced to-night. 2 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 fire within;
Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet.
Death may usurp on nature many hours,
And yet the fire of life kindle again
The overpressed spirits. I have heard
Of an Egyptian, had nine hours lien dead,
By good appliance was recovered.

Enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.
Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.-
The rough and woful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, 'beseech you.

The vial once more ;-how thou stirrest, thou block!
The music there.-I pray you, give her air.—
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!

1 Gent.

The Heavens, sir,

Through you, increase our wonder, and set up

Your fame forever.

Cer.

She is alive; behold,

Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels

Which Pericles hath lost,

Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;
The diamonds of a most praised water

Appear to make the world twice rich. O, live,

[She moves.

O dear Diana,

And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
Rare as you seem to be!
Thai.
Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this?
2 Gent. Is not this strange?

1 Gent.

Cer.

Most rare.

Hush, gentle neighbors; Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her. Get linen; now this matter must be looked to, For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come; And Esculapius guide us!

[Exeunt, carrying THAISA away.

SCENE III. Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House.

Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, LYCHORIDA, and MARINA.

Per. Most honored Cleon, I must needs be gone;
My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus stands
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

O, your sweet queen !

That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her

hither,

To have blessed 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,

"Your shakes of fortune, though they haunt you mortally,

Yet glance full wonderingly," &c.

The folios have "though they hate you." The emendation is by Steevens.

For she was born at sea, I have named so) here
I charge your charity withal, and leave her
The infant of your care; beseeching you

To give her princely training, that she may be
Mannered as she is born.

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

Your honor and your goodness teach me credit,2
Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,
By bright Diana, whom we honor all,

Unscissored shall this hair of mine remain,

3

Though I show will in't. So I take my leave.
Good madam, make me blessed in your care

In bringing up my child.

Dion.

Who shall not be more dear to my respect,

Than yours, my lord.

Per.

I have one myself,

Madam, my thanks and prayers.

Cle. We'll bring your grace even to the edge o' the

shore ;

Then give you up to the masked Neptune, and

The gentlest winds of heaven.

Per.

I will embrace

Your offer. Come, dear'st madam.-O, no tears,

1 i. e. be satisfied that we cannot forget the benefits you have bestowed on us.

2 The old copy reads, "teach me to it:" the alteration was made by Steevens.

3 i. e. appear wilful, perverse by such conduct. The old copy reads in the preceding line:

"Unsistered shall this heir of mine," &c.