(For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,) The gods revenge it upon me and mine, Your honour and your goodness teach me to it, Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain, In bringing up my child. DION. I have one myself, Who shall not be more dear to my respect, Than yours, my lord. PER. Madam, my thanks and prayers. CLE. We'll bring your grace even to the edge o' the shore; Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune, and The gentlest winds of heaven. PER. I will embrace Your offer. Come, dearest madam.-O, no tears, Lychorida, no tears: Look to your little mistress, on whose grace You may depend hereafter.—Come, my lord. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House. Enter CERIMON and THAISA. CER. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, Will I take me to, and never more have joy. CER. Madam, if this you purpose as you speak, Where you may 'bide until your date expire: Shall there attend you. THAI. My recompense is thanks, that 's all; Yet my good will is great, though the gift smali. ACT IV. Enter GOWER. Gow. Imagine Pericles arriv'd at Tyre, In music, letters; who hath gain'd Which makes her both the heart and place That monster Envy, oft the wrack For certain in our story, she Would ever with Marina be. Be 't when she weav'd the sleided silk With fingers, long, sinall, white as milk; [Exeunt Or when she would with sharp neeld wound She sung, and made the night-bird mute This Philoten contends in skill The dove of Paphos might with the crow All praises, which are paid as debts, The pregnant instrument of wrath Prest for this blow. The unborn event I do commend to your content: Only I carried winged time Post on the lame feet of my rhyme ; Which never could I so convey, Unless your thoughts went on my way.— Dionyza doth appear, With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit SCENE I.-Tharsus. An open place near the sea-shore. Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE. DION. Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do it. T is but a blow, which never shall be known. Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon, Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be LEON. I'll do 't; but yet she is a goodly creature. DION. The fitter then the gods above should have her. Here she comes weeping for her only mistress' death. Thou art resolv'd? Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers. MAR. No: I will rob Tellus of her weed, To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues, Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave, While summer days do last. Ah me! poor maid, DION. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone? Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar them. MAR. No, I pray you; I'll not bereave you of DION. Come, come; your servant. I love the king your father, and yourself, We every day With more than foreign heart. He will repent the breadth of his great voyage; MAR. Well, I will go; But yet I have no desire to it. DION. Come, come, I know 't is good for you. Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least; Remember what I have said. LEON. I warrant you, madam. DION. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while ; Pray walk softly, do not heat your blood: What! I must have a care of you. MAR. Is this wind westerly that blows? My thanks, sweet madam. South-west. [Exit DIONYZA. MAR. When I was born the wind was north. Was 't so! MAR. My father, as nurse said, did never fear, That almost burst the deck. LEON. MAR. When I was born. When was this? Never was waves nor wind more violent; A canvas-climber: "Ha!" says one, “wilt out ?” From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and The master calls, and trebles their confusion. LEON. Come, say your prayers. MAR. What mean you! LEON. If you require a little space for prayer, I grant it: pray; but be not tedious, For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn MAR. Why will you kill me? LEON. To satisfy my lady. MAR. Why would she have me kill'd? |