Can draw him but to answer thee in aught,
Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay
As thy desires can wish.
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.
Come, let us leave her;
And the gods make her prosperous! Marina sings.
I am a maid,
My lord, that ne’er before invited eyes,
But have been gazed on like a comet: 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.”
My fortunes—parentage—good parentage—
To equal mine!—was it not thus? what say you?
I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage,
You would not do me violence.
I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me.
You are like something that—What countrywoman?
Here of these shores?
No, nor of any shores:
Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am
No other than I appear.
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?
Where I am but a stranger: from the deck
You may discern the place.
Where were you bred?
And how achieved you these endowments, which
You make more rich to owe?
If I should tell my history, it would seem
Like lies disdain’d in the reporting.
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 camest
From good descending?
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.
Some such thing
I said, and said no more but what my thoughts
Did warrant me was likely.
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.
O, I am mock’d,
And thou by some incensed god sent hither
To make the world to laugh at me.
Patience, good sir,
Or here I’ll cease.
Nay, I’ll be patient.
Thou little know’st how thou dost startle me,
To call thyself Marina.
The name
Was given me by one that had some power,
My father, and a king.
How! a king’s daughter?
And call’d Marina?
You said you would believe me;
But, not to be a troubler of your peace,
I will end here.
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?
Call’d Marina
For I was born at sea.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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,
That thus hath made me weep?
I know not; but
Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene
Speaks nobly of her.
She would never tell
Her parentage; being demanded that,
She would sit still and weep.
O Helicanus, strike me, honour’d sir;
Give me a gash, put me to present pain;
Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me
O’erbear the shores of my mortality,
And drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither,
Thou that beget’st him that did thee beget;
Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus,
And found at sea again! O Helicanus,
Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as loud
As thunder threatens us: this is Marina.
What was thy mother’s name? tell me but that,
For truth can never be confirm’d enough,
Though doubts did ever sleep.
First, sir, I pray,
What is your title?
I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now
My drown’d queen’s name, as in the rest you said
Thou hast been godlike perfect,
The heir of kingdoms and another like
To Pericles thy father.
