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Enter Leonine.

Leon. Thefe roguing Thieves ferve the great Pirate Faldes, And they have feized Marina, let her go,

There's no hope fhe will return: I'll fwear the's dead,"
And thrown into the Sea; But I'll fee further,
Perhaps they ftill but pleafe themselves upon her,

Not carry her aboard, if the remain,

Whom they have ravish'd, muft by me be flain.
Enter Pander, Boult and Bawd.

Pand. Boult.

Boult. Sir.


Pand. Search the Market narrowly, Metalline is full of Gallants, we loft too much Mony this Mart, by being too Wenchlefs.

Bawd. We were never fo much out of Creatures, we have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do, and they with continual Action, are even as good

as rotten.

Pand. Therefore let's have fresh ones what e'er we pay for them, if there be not a Confcience to be us'd in every Trade, we shall never profper.

Bawd. Thou fay't true, 'tis not our bringing up of poor Baftards, as I think, I brought fome eleven.

Boult. I too eleven, and brought them down again, But fhall I fearch the Market?

Bawd. What elfe, Man? The Stuff we have, a strong Wind will blow it to pieces, they are fo pitifully fodden. Pand. Thou fay'ft true, there's two unwholfome in Confcience, the poor Tranfilvanian is dead that lay with the lit tle Baggage.

Boult. Ay, the quickly poup'd him, the made him RoaftMeat for Worms, but I'll go fearch the Market. [Exit. Pand. Three or four thousand Chickens were as pretty a Proportion to live quietly, and fo give over.


Bawd. Why, to give over, I pray you? Is it a fhame get when we are old?

Pand. Oh our Credit comes not in like the Commodity, nor the Commodity wages not with the Danger: Therefore, if in our Youths we could pick up fome pretty Eftate, 'twere not amifs to keep our Door hatch'd; befides the fore terms we stand upon with the Gods, will be ftrong with us for giving o'er.


Bawd. Come, other forts offend as well as we.

Paud. As well as we, ay, and better too, we offend worse, neither is our Profeffion any Trade, it's no Calling: But here comes Boult.

Enter Boult with Pirates, and Marina.

Boult. Come your ways, my Mafters, you fay he's a Virgin?

Pirat. O Sir, we doubt it not.

Boult. Mafter, I have gone through for this Piece you fee, if you like her, fo; if not, I have loft my Earneft. Bawd. Boult, has the any Qualities?

Bault. She has a good Face, fpeaks well, and hath excellent good Cloaths: There's no farther neceffity of Qualities can make her be refused.

Bawd. What's her Price, Boult?

Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand Pieces. Pand. Well, follow me, my Mafters, you shall have your Mony prefently: Wife, take her in, inftruct her what the has to do, that the may not be raw in her Entertainment. Bawd. Boult, take you the Marks of her, the Colour of her Hair, Complexion, Height, Age, with warrant of her Virginity, and Cry: He that will give most shall have her firft. Such a Maiden-head were no cheap thing; if Men were as they have been: Get this done as I command you.

Boult. Performance fhall follow.

Mar. Alack, that Leonine was fo flack, fo flow:

He should have ftruck, not spoke;

Or that thele Pirates, not enough barbarous,


Had o'er-board thrown me, for to feek my Mother.
Bawd. Why weep you, pretty one?

Mar. That I am pretty.

Bawd. Come, the Gods have done their part in you.
Mar. I accuse them not.

Bawd. You are light into my Hands, where you are like to live.

Mar. The more's my Fault to 'fcape his Hands,

Where I was like to dye.

Bawd. Ay, and you shall live in Pleasure.

Mar. No.


Bawd. Yes indeed fhall you, and tafte Gentlemen of all Fashions. You fhall fare well; you shall have the difference of all Complexions: what de'ye ftop your Ears?

Mar. Are you a Woman?

Bawd. What would you have me to be, if I be not a Woman?

Mar. An honeft Woman, or not a Woman.

Bawd. Marry whip thee, Gofling: I think I fhall have fomething to do with you. Come, y'are a young foolish Sapling, and must be bowed as I would have ye.

Mar. The Gods defend me.

Bawd. If it pleafe the Gods defend you by Men, then Men must comfort you, Men must feed you, Men must ftir you up: Bouli's return'd.

Enter Boult.

Now, Sir, haft thou cry'd her through the Market?:

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Boult. I have cry'd her almoft to the number of her Hairs I have drawn her Picture with my Voice.

Bawd. And prithee tell me, how doft thou find the Inclination of the People, efpecially of the younger fort?

Boult. Faith they liftned to me, as they would have hearkned to their Father's Teftament. There was a Spaniard's Mouth fo watered, that he went to Bed to her very Defcription.

Bawd. We fhall have him here to Morrow with his best Ruff on.

Boult. To Night, to Night. But, Mistress, do you know the French Knight that cowers i' th' Hams?

Bawd. Who, Monfieur Verollus?

Boult. Ay, he offered to cut a Caper at the Proclamation, but he made a Groan at it, and fwore he would see her to Morrow.

Bawd. Well, well, as for him, he brought his Disease hither, here he doth but repair it, I know he will come in our Shadow, to scatter his Crowns in the Sun.

Boult. Well, if we had of every Nation a Traveller, we fhould lodge them with this Sign.

Bawd. Pray you, come hither a while, you have Fortunes coming upon you, mark me, you must feem to do that fearfully, which you commit willingly, defpile Profit, where you have moft Gain; to weep that you live as you


do, makes pity in your Lovers feldom, but that pity begets you a good Õpinion, and that Opinion a meer profit. Mar. I understand you not.

Boult. O take her home, Miftrefs, take her home, these Blushes of hers must be quencht with fome prefent Practice. Bawd. Thou fayeft true i'faith, fo they muft, for your Bride goes to that with fhame, which is her way to go with


Boult. Faith fome do, and fome do not; but Mistress, if I have bargain'd for the Joynt.

Bawd. Thou may'ft cut a morfel off the Spit.
Boult. I may fo.

Bawd. Who fhould deny it?

Come young one, I like the manner of your Garments well. Boult. Ay, by my Faith, they fhall not be changed yet. Bawd. Boult, fpend thou that in the Town, report what a Sojourner we have, you'll lofe nothing by Cuftom. When Nature fram'd this Piece, fhe meant thee a good Turn, therefore fay what a Paragon the is, and thou haft the Har vest out of thine own Report.

Boult. I warrant you Miftrefs, Thunder shall not fo awake the Beds of Eels, as my giving out of her Beauty ftirs up the Lewdly enclined, I'll bring home fome to Night. Bawd. Come your ways, follow me.

Mar. If Fires be hot, Knives fharp, or Waters deep, Unty'd I ftill my Virgin-knot will keep.

Diana, aid my purpose.

Bawd. What have we to do with Diana? pray you go

with us.

Enter Cleon and Dionyfia.

Dion. Why are you foolish, can it be undone?

Cle. O Dionyfia, fuch a piece of Slaughter,

The Sun and Moon ne'er look'd upon.

Dion. I think you'll turn a Child again.


Cle. Were I chief Lord of all this fpacious World, I'd give it to undo the deed. O Lady, much lefs in Blood than Virtue, yet a Princels to equal any fingle Crown of the Earth, in the juftice of compare: O Villain, Leonine, whom thou haft poisoned too, if thou had'ft drunk to him, it had been a kindness becoming well thy Face; what can't thou fty, when Noble Pericles fhall demand his Child? VOL. VI.


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Dian. That he is dead. Nurfes are not the Fates to fofter it, nor ever to preferve; the dy'd at Night, I'll fay fo, who can crofs it, unless you play the Innocent? and for an honeft Attribute, cry out, the cy'd by foul Play.

Cle. O go to, well, well, of all the Faults beneath the Heav'ns, the Gods do like this worst.

Dion. Be one of thofe that thinks the pretty Wrens of Tharfus will fly hence, and open this to Pericles; I do fhame to think of what a noble Strain you are, and of how coward a Spirit.

Cle. To fuch proceeding, who ever but his Approbation added, though not his whole Confent, he did not flow from honourable Courses.

Dion. Be it fo then, yet none doth know but you how fhe came dead, nor none can know, Leonine being gone. She did difdain my Child, and ftood between her and her Fortunes: None would look on her, but caft their Gazes on Marina's Face, whilft ours was blurred at, and held a Mawkin, not worth the time of day. It pierc'd me thorow, and though you call my Courfe unnatural, you not your Child well loving, yet I find it greets me as an enterprize of Kindness perform'd to your fole Daughter.

Cle. Heav'ns forgive it.

Dion. And as for Pericles, what should he fay?

We wept after her Hearfe, and yet we mourn:

Her Monument almost finished, and her Epitaph
In glittering golden Characters, express

A general Praise to her, and Care in us,
At whofe Expence 'tis done.

Cle. Thou art like the Harpie,

Which to betray, doft with thy Angel's Face,

Seize with thine Eagle's Talons.

Dion. You are like one, that fuperftitiously

Doth fwear to th' Gods, that Winter kills the Flies,
But yet I know, you'll do as I advise.



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