Tarsus. A Room in CLEON'S House. |
| |
Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA, with MARINA in her arms. |
| Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; |
| My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus stands |
| In a litigious peace. You and your lady |
| Take from my heart all thankfulness; the gods |
| Make up the rest upon you! |
| Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally, |
| Yet glance full wanderingly on us. |
| Dion. O your sweet queen! |
| That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her hither, |
| To have bless'd mine eyes with her! |
| Per. We cannot but obey |
| The powers above us. Could I rage and roar |
| As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end |
| Must be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina—whom, |
| For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so—here |
| I charge your charity withal, and leave her |
| The infant of your care, beseeching you |
| To give her princely training, that she may be |
| Manner'd as she is born. |
| Cle. Fear not, my lord, but think |
| Your Grace, that fed my country with your corn— |
| For which the people's prayers still fall upon you— |
| Must in your child be thought on. If neglection |
| Should therein make me vile, the common body, |
| By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty; |
| But if to that my nature need a spur, |
| The gods revenge it upon me and mine, |
| To the end of generation! |
| Per. I believe you; |
| Your honour and your goodness teach me to 't, |
| Without your vows. Till she be married, madam, |
| By bright Diana, whom we honour, all |
| Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain, |
| Though I show ill in 't. So I take my leave. |
| Good madam, make me blessed in your care |
| In bringing up my child. |
| Dion. I have one myself, |
| Who shall not be more dear to my respect |
| Than yours, my lord. |
| Per. Madam, my thanks and prayers. |
| Cle. We'll bring your Grace e'en to the edge o' the shore; |
| Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and |
| The gentlest winds of heaven. |
| Per. I will embrace |
| Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O! no tears, |
| Lychorida, no tears: |
| Look to your little mistress, on whose grace |
| You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord. [Exeunt. |
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