T

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter Gower.

HUS Time we waste, and longest Leagues make short'
Sail Seas in Cockles, have and wish

but for't,

Making to take our Imagination,
From bourn to bourn, Region to Region.
By you being Pard'ned, we commit no Crime
To use one Language, in each several Clime,
Where our Scenes seem to live. I do beseech you
To learn of me, who stands in gaps to teach you
The Stages of our Story, Pericles

Is now again thwarting the wayward Seas;
(Attended on by many a Lord and Knight)
To see his Daughter, all his Life's Delight.
Old Hellicanus goes along behind,
Is left to govern it : You bear in Mind
Old Efcanes, whom Hellicanus late
Advanc'd in time to great and high Estate.
Well failing Ships, and bounteous Winds have brought
This King to Tharsus, think this Pilate thought,
So with his Steerage, Shall your Thoughts grone
To fetch his Daughter home, who first is gone;
Like Motes and Shadows see them move a while,
Your Ears unto your Eyes I'll reconcile.

Enter Pericles at one Door with all his Train, Cleon and Dionysia at the other: Cleon shews Pericles the Tomb, whereat Pericles makes Lamentation, puts on Sackcloth, and in a mighty Passion departs.

Gower. See how Belief may suffer by foul show,
This borrow'd Passion stands for true old Woe:
And Pericles in forrow all devour'd,

With Sighs shot through, and biggest Tears o'er-showr'd.
Leaves Tharsus, and again imbarks, he swears
Never to wash his Face, nor cut his Hairs,
He put on Sackcloth, and to Sea he bears,
A Tempest which his mortal Vessel tears,
And yet he rides it out. Now take we our way
To the Epitaph for Marina, writ by Dionyfia.

The fairest, sweetest, and best lies here,
Who wither'd in her Spring of Year :
She was of Tyrus the King's Daughter,
On whom foul Death hath made this Slaughter :
Marina was she call'd, and at her birth,
That is, being proud, swallow'd some part of th'earth:
Therefore the Earth fearing to be o'erflow'd,
Hath Thetis Birth-child on the Heav'ns bestow'd.
Wherefore the does and swears she'll never stint,
Make raging Battry upon Shores of Flint.

No Vizor does become black Villany,
So well as soft and tender Flattery.
Let Pericles believe his Daughter's dead,
And bear his Courses to be ordered

By Lady Fortune, while our stear must Play
His Daughter woe and heavy well-a-day,
In her anholy Service: Patience then,

And think you now are all in Metaline

Enter two Gentlemen

1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like?

[Exit.

2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place as this,

she being once gone.

I Gent. But to have Divinity preacht there, did you ever dream of fuch a thing?

2 Gent. No, no, come, I am for no more Bawdy-houses, shall we go hear the Vestals sing?

1 Gent. I'll do any thing now that is Virtuous, but I am out of the road of Rutting for ever. Enter the three Bawds.

[Exeunt.

Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she had ne'er come here.

Bawd. Fie, fie upon her, she is able to freeze the God Priapus, and undo a whole Generation, we must either get her Ravisht, or be rid of her; when she should do for Clyents her fitment, and do me the kindness of our Profession, she has me her Quirks, her Reasons, her Master-reafons, her Prayers, her Knees, that she would make a Puritan of the Devil, if he should cheapen a Kiss of her.

Boult. Faith I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all our Cavaliers, and make all our Swearers Priefts.

Pand

Pand. Now the Pox upon her Green-fickness for me. Bawd. Faith there's no way to berid of it, but by the way to the Pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus difguis'd. Boult. We should have both Lord and Lown, if the peevish Baggage would but give way to Customers.

Enter Lyfimachus.

Lys. How now, how a dozen of Virginities? Bawd. Now the Gods bless your Honour. Boult. I am glad to see your Honour in good Hea'th. Lys. You may so, 'tis the better for you, that your Reforters stand upon found Legs, how now? wholesome Impunity have you, that a Man may deal withal, and defie the Surgeon?

Bawd. We have one here, Sir, if the would

But there never came her like in Metaline.

Lys. If she'd dothe Deeds of Darkness, thou would'st say. Bawd. Your Honour knows what 'tis to say well enough. Lyf. Well, call forth, call forth.

Boult. For Flesh and Blood, Sir, white and red, you shail see a Rofe, and the were a Rafe indeed, if the had but

Lys. What prethee?

Boult. O Sir, I can be Modeft..

Lys. That dagnifies the Renown of a Bawd, no less than

it gives a good Report to a number to be Chaft.

Enter Marina.

Bawd. Here comes that which grows to the stalk,

Never pluckt yet I can affure you.

Is the not a fair Creature?

Lys. Faith the would serve after a long Voyage at Sea, Well, there's for you, leave us.

Bawd. I baseech your Honour give me leave a word, And I'll have done presently.

Lyf. I beseech you do.

Bawd. First, I would have you note, this is a) honourable Man.

Mar. I defire to find him so, that I may worthily note him. Bawd. Next, he's the Governor of this Country, and a

Man whom I am bound to.

Mar. If he govern the Country, you are bound to him indeed, but how honourable he is in that, I know rot.

Q3

Bawd.

Bawd. Pray you without any more virginal fencing, will you use him kindly? He will line your Apron with Gold. Mar. What he will do gracioufly, I will thankfully receive.

Lyf. Have you done?

Bawd. My Lord, the's not pac'd yet, you must take fome Pains to work her to your manage; come, we will leave his Honour and her together. [Exit Bawd.

Lys. Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this

Trade?

Mar. What Trade, Sir?

Lys. Why, I cannot name't but I shall offend.

Mar. I cannot be offended with my Trade,

Please you to name it.

Lys. How long have you been of this Profeffion?

Mar. E'er fince I can remember.

Lys. Did you go to't so young, were you a Gamester at

five, or at leven?

Mar. Earlier too, Sir, if now I be one.

Lys. Why the House you dwell in, proclaims you to be a Creature of Sale.

Mar. Do you know this House to be a Place of such refort, and will come into it? I hear say you are of honourable Parts, and the Governor of this place.

Lys. Why? hath your Principal made known unto you, who I am?

Mar. Who is my Principal?

Lys. Why your Herb-woman, she that sets Seeds and Roots of Shame and Iniquity. O you have heard something of my Power, and so stand aloof for more serious Wooing; but I proteft to thee, pretty one, my Authority shall not fee thee, or else look friendly upon thee; come bring me to some private Place, come, come,

Mar. If you were born to Honour, shew it now;
If put upon you, make the Judgment good,
That thought you worthy of it.

Lys. How's this; how's this? some more, be sage-
Mar. For me that am a Maid, though most ungentle

Fortune have plac'd me in this Stie,

Where fince I came, D seases have been fold

Dearer than Phyfick; O that the Gods

Would Would set me free from this unhallow'd Place,

Though they did change me to the meanest Bird
That flies i'th' purer Air,

Lys. I did not think

Thou could'st have spoke so well, I ne'er dream'd thou

could'st;

Had I brought hither a corrupted Mind,

Thy Speech had alter'd it; hold, here's Gold for thee,

Perfevere in that clear way thou goeft.

And the Gods strengthen thee.

Mar. The good Gods preferve you.

Lys. For my part, I came with no ill intent, for to me

The very Doors and Windows savour vilely.

Fare thee well,

Thou art a piece of Virtue, and I doubt not

But thy training hath been Noble;

Hold, here's more Gold for thee;

A Curse upon him, die he like a Thief

That robs thee of thy Goodness; if thou dost hear from me,
It shall be for thy good.

Boult. I beseech your Honour, one Piece for me.
Lys. Avant thou damn'd Door-keeper,
Your House, but for this Virgin that doth prop it,
Would fink and overwhelm you. Away.

[Exit.

Boult. How's this? We must take another course with you? If your peevish Chastity, which is not worth a Breakfast in the cheapest Country under the coap, thall undo a whole Houshold, let me be gelded like a Spaniel; come your ways.

Mar. Whither would you have me?

Boult. I must have your Maidenhead taken off, or the common Hangman shall execute it; come your way, we'll have no more Gentlemen driv'naway: come your ways, I say.

Enter Bawd.

Bawd. How now, what's the matter?

Boult. Worse and worse, Mistress, she hath here spoken

holy words to the Lord Lysimachus.

Bawd. O abominable.

Boult. She makes our Profession as it were to stink before

the Face of the Gods,

Bawd. Marry hang her up for ever.

4

Boult