| 1 |
III / 1
|
-
Here is a thing too young for such a place,
Who, if it had conceit, would di...
-
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. 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.
|
| 2 |
III / 1
|
-
Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm.
Here's all that is left living...
-
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. 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.
|
| 3 |
III / 1
|
-
Patience, good sir,
Even for this charge.
-
Patience, good sir,
Even for this charge.
-
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.
|
| 4 |
III / 1
|
|
