Cerimon

Philemon, ho! Enter PHILEMON.

Philemon

Doth my lord call?

Cerimon

Get fire and meat for these poor men:

'T has been a turbulent and stormy night.

Servant

I have been in many; but such a night as this,

Till now, I ne'er endured.

Cerimon

Your master will be dead ere you return;

There's nothing can be ministered to nature

That can recover him. To Philemon

Give this to the “pothecary,

And tell me how it works. Exeunt all but Cerimon.Enter two Gentlemen.

First Gentleman

Good morrow.

Second Gentleman

Good morrow to your lordship.

Cerimon

Gentlemen,

Why do you stir so early?

First Gentleman

Sir,

Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea,

Shook as the earth did quake;

The very principals did seem to rend,

And all to topple: pure surprise and fear

Made me to quit the house.

Second Gentleman

That is the cause we trouble you so early;

'Tis not our husbandry.

Cerimon

O, you say well.

First Gentleman

But I much marvel that your lordship, having

Rich tire about you, should at these early hours

Shake off the golden slumber of repose

'Tis most strange,

Nature should be so conversant with pain,

Being thereto not compelled.

Cerimon

I hold it ever,

Virtue and cunning were endowments greater

Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs

May the two latter darken and expend;

But immortality attends the former,

Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever

Have studied physic, through which secret art,

By turning o'er authorities, I have,

Together with my practice, made familiar

To me and to my aid the blest infusions

That dwells in vegetives, in metals, stones;

And can speak of the disturbances

That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me

A more content in course of true delight

Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,

Or tie my pleasure up in silken bags,

To please the fool and death.

Second Gentleman

Your honour has through Ephesus poured forth

Your charity, and hundreds call themselves

Your creatures, who by you have been restored:

And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even

Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon

Such strong renown as time shall ne'er — Enter two or three Servants with a chest.

First Servant

So; lift there.

Cerimon

What's that?

First Servant

Sir, even now

Did the sea toss up upon our shore this chest:

'Tis of some wrack.

Cerimon

Set't down, let's look upon't.

Second Gentleman

'Tis like a coffin, sir.

Cerimon

What e'er it be,

'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight:

If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,

'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us.

Second Gentleman

'Tis so, my lord.

Cerimon

How close 'tis caulked and bitumed!

Did the sea cast it up?

First Servant

I never saw so huge a billow, sir,

As tossed it upon shore.

Cerimon

Wrench it open;

Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.

Second Gentleman

A delicate odor.

Cerimon

As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.

O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!

Second Gentleman

Most strange!

Cerimon

Shrouded in cloth of state; balmed and entreasured

With full bags of spices! A passport too!

Apollo, perfect me in the characters! Reads from a scroll.

“Here I give to understand,

If e'er this coffin drives a-land,

I, King Pericles, have lost

This queen, worth all our mundane cost,

Who finds her, give her burying;

She was the daughter of a king:

Besides this treasure for a fee,

The gods requite his charity!”

If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart

That ever cracks for woe! This chanced to-night.

Second Gentleman

Most likely, sir.

Cerimon

Nay, certainly to-night;

For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough

That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within:

Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet. Exit a Servant.

Death may usurp on nature many hours,

And yet the fire of life kindle again

The o'erpressed spirits. I heard of an Egyptian

That had nine hours lien dead,

Who was by good appliance recovered. Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.

Well said, well said; the fire and cloths.

The rough and woeful music that we have,

Cause it to sound, beseech you.

The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block!

The music there! — I pray you, give her air.

Gentlemen,

This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth

Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced

Above five hours: see how she 'gins

To blow into life's flower again!

First Gentleman

The heavens,

Through you, increase our wonder and sets up

Your fame for ever.

Cerimon

She is alive; behold,

Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels

Which Pericles hath lost,

Begin to part their fringes of bright gold;

The diamonds of a most praised water

Doth appear, to make the world twice rich. Live,

And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,

Rare as you seem to be. She moves.

Thaisa

O dear Diana,

Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this?

Second Gentleman

Is not this strange?

First Gentleman

Most rare.

Cerimon

Hush, my gentle neighbours!

Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her.

Get linen: now this matter must be looked to,

For her relapse is mortal. Come, come;

And AEsculapius guide us! Exeunt, carrying her away.