Pericles, Prince of Tyre: Act 3, Scene 1

    comedy

    SCENE I:

    Scene Summary

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    During a terrible storm at sea, Thaisa goes into labour and appears to die giving birth. The sailors, superstitious about carrying a corpse, insist she be cast overboard. Pericles complies in grief, names the baby Marina because she was born at sea, and orders the ship to Tarsus to leave the child with Cleon and Dionyza. Thaisa's body is sealed in a chest with her jewels and lowered into the waves.

    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