ACT III
SCENE I:


 [Enter PERICLES, on shipboard]

PERICLES 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 deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench
 Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida,
 How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously;
 Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle
 Is as a whisper in the ears of death,
 Unheard. Lychorida!--Lucina, O
 Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle
 To those that cry by night, convey thy deity
 Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs
 Of my queen's travails!

 [Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant]

    Now, Lychorida!

LYCHORIDA Here is a thing too young for such a place,
 Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I
 Am like to do: take in your arms this piece
 Of your dead queen.

PERICLES How, how, Lychorida!

LYCHORIDA Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.
 Here's all that is left living of your queen,
 A little daughter: for the sake of it,
 Be manly, and take comfort.

PERICLES O you gods!
 Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
 And snatch them straight away? We here below
 Recall not what we give, and therein may
 Use honour with you.

LYCHORIDA Patience, good sir,
 Even for this charge.

PERICLES Now, mild may be thy life!
 For a more blustrous birth had never babe:
 Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for
 Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world
 That ever was prince's child. Happy what follows!
 Thou hast as chiding a nativity
 As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make,
 To herald thee from the womb: even at the first
 Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,
 With all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods
 Throw their best eyes upon't!

 [Enter two Sailors]

First Sailor What courage, sir? God save you!

PERICLES Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;
 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.

First Sailor Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou?
 Blow, and split thyself.

Second Sailor But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss
 the moon, I care not.

First Sailor 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.

PERICLES That's your superstition.

First Sailor Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still
 observed: and we are strong in custom. Therefore
 briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.

PERICLES As you think meet. Most wretched queen!

LYCHORIDA Here she lies, sir.

PERICLES A terrible childbed hast thou had, my dear;
 No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements
 Forgot thee utterly: nor have I time
 To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
 Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;
 Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
 And e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale
 And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
 Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida,
 Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
 My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
 Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe
 Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say
 A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

 [Exit LYCHORIDA]

Second Sailor Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked
 and bitumed ready.

PERICLES I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?

Second Sailor We are near Tarsus.

PERICLES Thither, gentle mariner.
 Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?

Second Sailor By break of day, if the wind cease.

PERICLES O, make for Tarsus!
 There will I visit Cleon, for the babe
 Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it
 At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner:
 I'll bring the body presently.

 [Exeunt]




 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE


ACT III