William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Would win some words of him.

LYSIMACHUS.

‘Tis well bethought.

She questionless with her sweet harmony

And other chosen attractions, would allure,

And make a battery through his deafen’d parts,

Which now are midway stopp’d:

She is all happy as the fairest of all,

And, with her fellow maids, is now upon

The leafy shelter that abuts against

The island’s side.

[Whispers a Lord, who goes off in the barge of Lysimachus.]

HELICANUS.

Sure, all’s effectless; yet nothing we’ll omit

That bears recovery’s name. But, since your kindness

We have stretch’d thus far, let us beseech you

That for our gold we may provision have,

Wherein we are not destitute for want,

But weary for the staleness.

LYSIMACHUS.

O, sir, a courtesy

Which if we should deny, the most just gods

For every graff would send a catepillar,

And so afflict our province. Yet once more

Let me entreat to know at large the cause

Of your king’s sorrow.

HELICANUS.

Sit, sir, I will recount it to you:

But, see, I am prevented.

[Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with Marina, and a young Lady.]

LYSIMACHUS.

O, here is

The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one!

Is’t not a goodly presence?

HELICANUS.

She’s a gallant lady.

LYSIMACHUS.

She’s such a one, that, were I well assured

Came of a gentle kind and noble stock,

I’ld wish no better choice, and think me rarely wed.

Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty

Expect even here, where is a kingly patient:

If that thy prosperous and artificial feat

Can draw him but to answer thee in aught,

Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay

As thy desires can wish.

MARINA.

Sir, I will use

My utmost skill in his recovery,

Provided

That none but I and my companion maid

Be suffer’d to come near him.

LYSIMACHUS.

Come, let us leave her,

And the gods make her prosperous!

[Marina sings.]

LYSIMACHUS.

Mark’d he your music?

MARINA.

No, nor look’d on us,

LYSIMACHUS.

See, she will speak to him.

MARINA.

Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear.

PERICLES.

Hum, ha!

MARINA.

I am a maid,

My lord, that ne’er before invited eyes,

But have been gazed on like a cornet: she speaks,

My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief

Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh’d.

Though wayward fortune did malign my state,

My derivation was from ancestors

Who stood equivalent with mighty kings:

But time hath rooted out my parentage,

And to the world and awkward casualties

Bound me in servitude.

[Aside.]

I will desist;

But there is something glows upon my cheek,

And whispers in mine ear ‘Go not till he speak.’

PERICLES.

My fortunes — parentage — good parentage —

To equal mine! — was it not thus? what say you?

MARINA.

I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage.

You would not do me violence.

PERICLES.

I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me.

You are like something that — What countrywoman?

Here of these shores?

MARINA.

No, nor of any shores:

Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am

No other than I appear.

PERICLES.

I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.

My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one

My daughter might have been: my queen’s square brows;

Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight;

As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like

And cased as richly; in pace another Juno;

Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry,

The more she gives them speech. Where do you live?

MARINA.

Where I am but a stranger: from the deck

You may discern the place.

PERICLES.

Where were you bred?

And how achieved you these endowments, which

You make more rich to owe?

MARINA.

If I should tell my history, it would seem

Like lies disdain’d in the reporting.

PERICLES.

Prithee, speak:

Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look’st

Modest as Justice, and thou seem’st a palace

For the crown’d Truth to dwell in: I will believe thee,

And make my senses credit thy relation

To points that seem impossible; for thou look’st

Like one I loved indeed. What were thy friends?

Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back —

Which was when I perceived thee — that thou earnest

From good descending?

MARINA.

So indeed I did.

PERICLES.

Report thy parentage. I think thou said’st

Thou hadst been toss’d from wrong to injury,

And that thou thought’st thy griefs might equal mine,

If both were open’d.

MARINA.

Some such thing,

I said, and said no more but what my thoughts

Did warrant me was likely.

PERICLES.

Tell thy story;

If thine consider’d prove the thousandth part

Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I

Have suffer’d like a girl: yet thou dost look

Like Patience gazing on kings’ graves, and smiling

Extremity out of act. What were thy friends?

How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin?

Recount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me.

MARINA.

My name is Marina.

PERICLES.

O, I am mock’d,

And thou by some incensed god sent hither

To make the world to laugh at me.

MARINA.

Patience, good sir,

Or here I’ll cease.

PERICLES.

Nay, I’ll be patient.

Thou little know’st how thou dost startle me,

To call thyself Marina.

MARINA.

The name

Was given me by one that had some power,

My father, and a king.

PERICLES.

How! a king’s daughter?

And call’d Marina?

MARINA.

You said you would believe me;

But, not to be a troubler of your peace,

I will end here.

PERICLES.

But are you flesh and blood?

Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy?

Motion! Well; speak on. Where were you born?

And wherefore call’d Marina?

MARINA.

Call’d Marina

For I was born at sea.

PERICLES.

At sea! what mother?

MARINA.

My mother was the daughter of a king;

Who died the minute I was born,

As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft

Deliver’d weeping.

PERICLES.

O, stop there a little!

[Aside.]

This is the rarest dream that e’er dull sleep

Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be:

My daughter’s buried. Well: where were: you bred?

I’ll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,

And never interrupt you.

MARINA. You scorn: believe me, ‘twere best I did give o’er. -

PERICLES.

I will believe you by the syllable

Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave:

How came you in these parts? where were you bred?

MARINA.

The king my father did in Tarsus leave me;

Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,

Did seek to murder me: and having woo’d

A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do ‘t,

A crew of pirates came and rescued me;

Brought me to Mytilene. But, good sir.

Whither will you have me? Why do you weep? It may be,

You think me an impostor: no, good faith;

I am the daughter to King Pericles,

If good King Pericles be.

PERICLES.

Ho, Helicanus!

HELICANUS.

Calls my lord?

PERICLES.

Thou art a grave and noble counsellor,

Most wise in general: tell me, if thou canst,

What this maid is, or what is like to be,