Pericles by William Shakespeare
Act 3 - Scene 1
On ship.
Pericles : Thou god of this great vast, rebuke these surges,
[p]Which wash both
heaven and hell; and thou, that hast
[p]Upon the winds command, bind
them in brass,
[p]Having call'd them from the deep! O, still
[p]Thy
deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench
[p]Thy nimble, sulphurous
flashes! O, how, Lychorida,
[p]How does my queen? Thou stormest
venomously;
[p]Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle
[p]Is
as a whisper in the ears of death,
[p]Unheard. Lychorida!--Lucina,
O
[p]Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle
[p]To those that cry by
night, convey thy deity
[p]Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the
pangs
[p]Of my queen's travails!
[p][Enter LYCHORIDA, with an
Infant]
[p]Now, Lychorida!
Lychorida : Here is a thing too young for such a place,
[p]Who, if it had conceit,
would die, as I
[p]Am like to do: take in your arms this piece
[p]Of
your dead queen.
Pericles : How, how, Lychorida!
Lychorida : Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.
[p]Here's all that is
left living of your queen,
[p]A little daughter: for the sake of
it,
[p]Be manly, and take comfort.
Pericles : O you gods!
[p]Why do you make us love your goodly gifts,
[p]And
snatch them straight away? We here below
[p]Recall not what we give,
and therein may
[p]Use honour with you.
Lychorida : Patience, good sir,
[p]Even for this charge.
Pericles : Now, mild may be thy life!
[p]For a more blustrous birth had never
babe:
[p]Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for
[p]Thou art the
rudeliest welcome to this world
[p]That ever was prince's child. Happy
what follows!
[p]Thou hast as chiding a nativity
[p]As fire, air,
water, earth, and heaven can make,
[p]To herald thee from the womb:
even at the first
[p]Thy loss is more than can thy portage
quit,
[p]With all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods
[p]Throw
their best eyes upon't!
First Sailor : What courage, sir? God save you!
Pericles : Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;
[p]It hath done to me the
worst. Yet, for the love
[p]Of this poor infant, this fresh-new
sea-farer,
[p]I would it would be quiet.
First Sailor : Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou?
[p]Blow, and split
thyself.
Second Sailor : But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss
[p]the moon, I care
not.
First Sailor : Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high,
[p]the wind is
loud, and will not lie till the ship be
[p]cleared of the dead.
Pericles : That's your superstition.
First Sailor : Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still
[p]observed: and we
are strong in custom. Therefore
[p]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;
[p]No light, no fire: the
unfriendly elements
[p]Forgot thee utterly: nor have I time
[p]To give
thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
[p]Must cast thee, scarcely
coffin'd, in the ooze;
[p]Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
[p]And
e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale
[p]And humming water must
o'erwhelm thy corpse,
[p]Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida,
[p]Bid
Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
[p]My casket and my jewels; and
bid Nicander
[p]Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe
[p]Upon the
pillow: hie thee, whiles I say
[p]A priestly farewell to her:
suddenly, woman.
Second Sailor : Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked
[p]and bitumed
ready.
Pericles : I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?
Second Sailor : We are near Tarsus.
Pericles : Thither, gentle mariner.
[p]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!
[p]There will I visit Cleon, for the
babe
[p]Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it
[p]At careful
nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner:
[p]I'll bring the body presently.
Previous: Act 3 - Scene 0
Next: Act 3 - Scene 2
