shows his Daughter the Letter; she rejoices: she and PERICLES take leave of her Father, and depart. Then SIMONIDES, &c. retire. Gow. By many a dearn and painful perch, Are letters brought; the tenour these: The crown of Tyre, but he will none: Come not, in twice six moons, home, Will take the crown. The sum of this, Y-ravished the regions round, And every one with claps 'gan sound, Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing? The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near! This stage, the ship, upon whose deck SCENE I. Enter PERICLES, on a Ship at Sea. [Exit. Per. Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these surges, Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, Having call'd them from the deep! O still thy deaf'ning, How does my queen?-Thou storm, thou! venomously Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle 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. A little daughter; for the sake of it, Be manly, and take comfort. Per. O you gods! Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, And snatch them straight away? We, here below, Lyc. Even for this charge. Per. Patience, good sir, Now, mild may be thy life! For a more blust'rous birth had never babe: For thou'rt the rudeliest welcom❜d 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? Per. Courage enough: I do It hath done to me the worst. God save you. Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer, 1 Sail. Slack the bolins there; thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself. 2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine 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. Per. That's your superstition. 1 Sail. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it still hath been observed; and we are strong in earnest. 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; To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight Where, for å monument upon thy bones, Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper; [Exit Lychorida. 2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulk'd 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. 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 endur'd. Cer. Your master will be dead ere you return; There's nothing can be minister'd to nature, That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary, And tell me how it works. [To Philemon. [Exeunt Philemon, Servant, and those who had been shipwrecked. 1 Gent. Enter two Gentlemen. Good morrow, sir. 2 Gent. Good morrow to your lordship. Cer. Why do you stir so early? Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, The very principals did seem to rend, Gentlemen, 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, Cer. (Together with my practice), made familiar That nature works, and of her cures; which gives me To please the fool and death. [forth 2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd Your charity, and hundreds call themselves Your creatures, who by you have been restor❜d: And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even |