| ACT III SCENE II | Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house. |
| [
Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who
have been shipwrecked
] |
| CERIMON | Philemon, ho! |
| [Enter PHILEMON] |
| PHILEMON | Doth my lord call? |
| CERIMON | Get fire and meat for these poor men: |
| 'T has been a turbulent and stormy night. |
| Servant | I have been in many; but such a night as this, | 5 |
| Till now, I ne'er endured. |
| CERIMON | Your master will be dead ere you return; |
| There's nothing can be minister'd to nature |
| That can recover him. |
[To PHILEMON] |
| Give this to the 'pothecary, | 10 |
| And tell me how it works. |
| [Exeunt all but CERIMON] |
| [Enter two Gentlemen] |
| First Gentleman | Good morrow. |
| Second Gentleman | Good morrow to your lordship. |
| CERIMON | Gentlemen, |
| Why do you stir so early? | 15 |
| First Gentleman | Sir, |
| Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, |
| Shook as the earth did quake; |
| The very principals did seem to rend, |
| And all-to topple: pure surprise and fear | 20 |
| Made me to quit the house. |
| Second Gentleman | That is the cause we trouble you so early; |
| 'Tis not our husbandry. |
| CERIMON | O, you say well. |
| First Gentleman | But I much marvel that your lordship, having | 25 |
| Rich tire about you, should at these early hours |
| Shake off the golden slumber of repose. |
| 'Tis most strange, |
| Nature should be so conversant with pain, |
| Being thereto not compell'd. | 30 |
| CERIMON | I hold it ever, |
| Virtue and cunning were endowments greater |
| Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs |
| May the two latter darken and expend; |
| But immortality attends the former. | 35 |
| Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever |
| Have studied physic, through which secret art, |
| By turning o'er authorities, I have, |
| Together with my practise, made familiar |
| To me and to my aid the blest infusions | 40 |
| That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones; |
| And I can speak of the disturbances |
| That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me |
| A more content in course of true delight |
| Than to be thirsty after tottering honour, | 45 |
| Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, |
| To please the fool and death. |
| Second Gentleman | Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth |
| Your charity, and hundreds call themselves |
| Your creatures, who by you have been restored: | 50 |
| And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even |
| Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon |
| Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay. |
| [Enter two or three Servants with a chest] |
| First Servant | So; lift there. |
| CERIMON | What is that? | 55 |
| First Servant | Sir, even now |
| Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest: |
| 'Tis of some wreck. |
| CERIMON | Set 't down, let's look upon't. |
| Second Gentleman | 'Tis like a coffin, sir. | 60 |
| CERIMON | Whate'er it be, |
| 'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight: |
| If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,
|
| 'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us. |
| Second Gentleman | 'Tis so, my lord. | 65 |
| CERIMON | How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed! |
| Did the sea cast it up? |
| First Servant | I never saw so huge a billow, sir, |
| As toss'd it upon shore. |
| CERIMON | Wrench it open; | 70 |
| Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense. |
| Second Gentleman | A delicate odour. |
| CERIMON | As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it. |
| O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse! |
| First Gentleman | Most strange! | 75 |
| CERIMON | Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasured |
| With full bags of spices! A passport too! |
| Apollo, perfect me in the characters! |
[Reads from a scroll] |
| 'Here I give to understand, |
| If e'er this coffin drive a-land, | 80 |
| I, King Pericles, have lost |
| This queen, worth all our mundane cost. |
| Who finds her, give her burying; |
| She was the daughter of a king: |
| Besides this treasure for a fee, | 85 |
| The gods requite his charity!' |
| If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart |
| That even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight. |
| Second Gentleman | Most likely, sir. |
| CERIMON | Nay, certainly to-night; | 90 |
| For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough |
| That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within: |
| Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet. |
[Exit a Servant] |
| Death may usurp on nature many hours, |
| And yet the fire of life kindle again | 95 |
| The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian |
| That had nine hours lien dead, |
| Who was by good appliance recovered. |
[Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire] |
| Well said, well said; the fire and cloths. |
| The rough and woeful music that we have, | 100 |
| Cause it to sound, beseech you. |
| The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block! |
| The music there!--I pray you, give her air. |
| Gentlemen. |
| This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth | 105 |
| Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced |
| Above five hours: see how she gins to blow |
| Into life's flower again! |
| First Gentleman | The heavens, |
| Through you, increase our wonder and set up | 110 |
| Your fame forever. |
| CERIMON | She is alive; behold, |
| Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels |
| Which Pericles hath lost, |
| Begin to part their fringes of bright gold; | 115 |
| The diamonds of a most praised water |
| Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live, |
| And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, |
| Rare as you seem to be. |
| [She moves] |
| THAISA | O dear Diana, | 120 |
| Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this? |
| Second Gentleman | Is not this strange? |
| First Gentleman | Most rare. |
| CERIMON | Hush, my gentle neighbours! |
| Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her. | 125 |
| Get linen: now this matter must be look'd to, |
| For her relapse is mortal. Come, come; |
| And AEsculapius guide us! |
| [Exeunt, carrying her away] |
Shakespeare's Sources for Pericles