Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast ening, Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble How does my queen!-Thou storm, thou! venomously1 Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant. Lyc. Here is a thing Too young for such a place, who if it had Take in your arms this piece of your dead queen. Lyc. Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm. 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: 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." Per. O you gods! Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, And snatch them straight away? We, here below, Vie1 honor with you. Lyc. Even for this charge. Per. Patience, good sir, Now, mild may be thy life! For a more blusterous birth had never babe. Quiet and gentle thy conditions! 2 For thou art the rudeliest welcomed to this world, As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make, With all thou canst find here.-Now the good gods 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 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 2 To give thee hallowed to thy grave, but straight Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper, 4 say A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. [Exit LYCHORIDA. 2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, Icalked 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.5 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. 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 [Exeunt. SCENE II. Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House. 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. 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 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, I held it ever, Cer. Than nobleness and riches. Careless heirs That nature works, and of her cures; which give me 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. |