CERIMON She is alive. Behold,

Her eyelids, cases to those heav’nly jewels

Which Pericles hath lost,

Begin to part their fringes of bright gold.

The diamonds of a most praised water

Doth appear to make the world twice rich.—Live,

And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,

Rare as you seem to be.

She moves

THAISA O dear Diana,

Where am I? Where’s my lord? What world is this?

SECOND GENTLEMAN

Is not this strange?

FIRST GENTLEMAN Most rare.

CERIMON Hush, gentle neighbours. 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, And Aesculapius guide us. They carry her away. Exeunt

Sc. 13 Enter Pericles at Tarsus, with Cleon and Dionyza, and Lychorida with a babe

PERICLES

Most honoured 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!

CLEON Your strokes of fortune, Though they hurt you mortally, yet glance Full woundingly on us.

DIONYZA O your sweet queen!

That the strict fates had pleased you’d brought her

hither

T’have blessed mine eyes with her!

PERICLES

We cannot but obey

The pow‘rs above us. Should I rage and roar

As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end

Must be as ’tis. My gentle babe Marina,

Whom 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.

CLEON Fear not, my lord, but think

Your grace, that fed my country with your corn—

For which the people’s pray’rs 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 th’ end of generation.

PERICLES I believe you.

Your honour and your goodness teach me to’t

Without your vows.—Till she be married, madam,

By bright Diana, whom we honour all,

Unscissored shall this hair of mine remain,

Though I show ill in’t. So I take my leave.

Good madam, make me blessed in your care

In bringing up my child.

DIONYZA I have one myself,

Who shall not be more dear to my respect

Than yours, my lord.

PERICLES Madam, my thanks and prayers.

CLEON

We’ll bring your grace e‘en to the edge o’th’ shore,

Then give you up to th’ masted Neptune and

The gentlest winds of heaven.

PERICLES

I will embrace your offer.—Come, dear’st madam.—

O, no tears, Lychorida, no tears.

Look to your little mistress, on whose grace

You may depend hereafter.—Come, my lord. Exeunt

Sc. 14 Enter Cerimon and Thaisa

CERIMON

Madam, this letter and some certain jewels

Lay with you in your coffer, which are all

At your command. Know you the character?

THAISA

It is my lord’s. That I was shipped at sea

I well remember, ev’n on my eaning time,

But whether there delivered, by th’ holy gods

I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles,

My wedded lord, I ne‘er shall see again,

A vestal liv’ry will I take me to,

And never more have joy.

CERIMON

Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak,

Diana’s temple is not distant far,

Where till your date expire you may abide.

Moreover, if you please a niece of mine

Shall there attend you.

THAISA

My recompense is thanks, that’s all,

Yet my good will is great, though the gift small. Exeunt

Sc. 15 Enter Gower

GOWER

Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre,

Welcomed and settled to his own desire.

His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus,

Unto Diana there ’s a votaress.

Now to Marina bend your mind,

Whom our fast-growing scene must find

At Tarsus, and by Cleon trained

In music, letters; who hath gained

Of education all the grace,

Which makes her both the heart and place

Of gen‘ral wonder. But, alack,

That monster envy, oft the wrack

Of earned praise, Marina’s life

Seeks to take off by treason’s knife,

And in this kind our Cleon has

One daughter, and a full-grown lass

E’en ripe for marriage-rite. This maid

Hight Philoten, and it is said

For certain in our story she

Would ever with Marina be,

Be’t when they weaved the sleided silk

With fingers long, small, white as milk;

Or when she would with sharp nee‘le wound

The cambric which she made more sound

By hurting it, or when to th’ lute

She sung, and made the night bird mute,

That still records with moan; or when

She would with rich and constant pen

Vail to her mistress Dian. Still