Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast
Upon the winds command, bind them in brass,
Having called them from the deep! O, still thy deaf-

Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble
Sulphureous flashes !—0 how, Lychorida,
How does my queen!—Thou storm, thou! venomously?
Wilt thou spit all thyself ?—The seaman's whistle
Is as a whisper in the ears of death,
Unheard.—Lychorida !-Lucina, O
Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle
To those that cry by night, convey thy deity
A board our dancing boat; make swift the pangs
Of my queen's travails—Now, Lychorida-

Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant.
Lyc. Here is a thing
Too young for such a place, who if it had
Conceit, would die as I am like to do.
Take in your arms this piece of your


queen. Per. How! how, Lychorida!

Lyc. Patience, good sir ; do not assist the storm. Here's all that is left living of your queen,A little daughter; for the sake of it, Be manly, and take comfort.

Wilt thou speat all thyself? the sea-mans whistle
Is as a whisper in the eares of death,
Unheard Lychorida ? Lucina oh!
Divinest patrioness and my wife gentle
To those that cry by night, convey thy deitie
Aboard our dauncing boat, make swift the pangues

Of my queenes travayles ? now Lychorida ?” Pericles, having called to Lychorida, without the power to make her hear, on account of the tempest, at last, with frantic peevishness, addresses himself to it:

Thou storm thou! venemously

Wilt thou spit all thyself? "Having indulged himself in this question, he grows cooler, and observes that the very boatswain's whistle has no more effect on the sailors than the voices of those who speak to the dead. He then repeats his inquiries of Lychorida, but, receiving no answer, concludes with a prayer for his queen. 1 Maliciously.

2 i. e. “ who if it had thought."



O you gods !
Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
And snatch them straight away? We, here below,
Recall not what we give, and therein may
Vie' honor with you.

Patience, good sir,
Even for this charge.

Now, mild may be thy life!
For a more blusterous birth had never babe.
Quiet and gentle thy conditions !
For thou art the rudeliest welcomed to this world,
That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows !
Thou hast as chiding a nativity,
As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
To herald thee from the womb: even at the first,
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,
With all thou canst find here.-Now the good gods
Throw their best eyes upon


Enter two Sailors.
1 Sail. What courage, sir ? God save you.

Per. Courage enough. I do not fear the flaw ; 5
It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love
Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,
I would it would be quiet.

1 Sail. Slack the bolins 6 there; thou wilt not, wilt thou ? Blow and split thyself.

2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brime and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.

1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard; the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.

1 That is, “ contend with you in honor.” The old copy reads, “ Use honor with you."

2 Conditions are qualities, dispositions of mind. 3 i. e. noisy.

4 i. e. thou hast already lost more (by the death of thy mother) than thy safe arrival at the port of life can counterbalance, with all to boot that we can give thee. Portage is here used for conveyance into life.

5 A flaw is a stormy gust of wind. 6 Bolins or bowlines are ropes by which the sails of a ship are governed when the wind is unfavorable. They are slackened when it is high.

Per. That's your superstition.

1 Sail. Pardon us, sir ; with us at sea it still hath been observed ; and we are strong in custom. Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight. Per. Be it as you think meet.—Most wretched

queen! Lyc. Here she lies, sir.

Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear, No light, no fire. The unfriendly elements Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time To give thee hallowed to thy grave, but straight Must cast thee, scarcely coffined, in the ooze; Where, for a monument upon thy bones, And aye-remaining 3 lamps, the belching whale, And humming water must o’erwhelm thy corpse, Lying with simple shells. Lychorida, Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper, My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander Bring me the satin coffer : 4 lay the babe Upon the pillow ; hie thee, whiles I say A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

[Exit LYCHORIDA. 2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, calked and bitumed ready.

Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say, what coast is this? 2 Sail. We are near Tharsus.

Per. Thither, gentle mariner, Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it ?

2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease. Per. O, make for Tharsus.

1 The old copy reads, “ strong in easterne.” The emendation is Mr. Boswell's. 2 Old copy, “ in oare." 3 The old copies erroneously read :

The air-remaining lamps.” The emendation is Malone's. Within old monuments and receptacles for the dead, perpetual (i. e. aye-remaining) lamps were supposed to be lighted.

4 The old copies have coffin. Pericles does not mean to bury his queen in this coffer (which was probably one lined with satin), but to take from thence the cloth of state, in which she was afterwards shrouded.

5 « Change thy course, which is now for Tyre, and go to Tharsus.

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;
I'll bring the body presently.


SCENE II. Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's


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; It 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 ministered to nature, That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary, And tell me how it works.1

[To PHILEMON. [Exeunt Philemon, Servant, and those who

had been shipwrecked.

Enter two Gentlemen.

1 Gent.

Good morrow, sir. 2 Gent. Good morrow to your lordship. Cer.

Gentlemen, Why do you stir so early?

1 Gent. Sir, Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,


1 The precedent words show that the physic cannot be designed for the master of the servant here introduced." Perhaps the circumstance was introduced for no other reason than to mark more strongly the extensive benevolence of Cerimon.

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.

2 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so early; 'Tis not our husbandry.” 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 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.4

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.

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