Act III · Scene IV
Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house.
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Enter CERIMON and THAISA
CERIMON
Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels,Lay with you in your coffer: which are nowAt your command. Know you the character?
THAISA
It is my lord's.That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember,Even on my eaning time; but whether thereDeliver'd, by the holy gods,I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles,My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again,A vestal livery will I take me to,And never more have joy.
CERIMON
Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak,Diana's temple is not distant far,Where you may abide till your date expire.Moreover, if you please, a niece of mineShall there attend you.
THAISA
My recompense is thanks, that's all;Yet my good will is great, though the gift small.
Exeunt
Enter GOWER
GOWER
Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre,Welcomed and settled to his own desire.His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus,Unto Diana there a votaress.Now to Marina bend your mind,Whom our fast-growing scene must findAt Tarsus, and by Cleon train'dIn music, letters; who hath gain'dOf education all the grace,Which makes her both the heart and placeOf general wonder. But, alack,That monster envy, oft the wrackOf earned praise, Marina's lifeSeeks to take off by treason's knife.And in this kind hath our CleonOne daughter, and a wench full grown,Even ripe for marriage-rite; this maidHight Philoten: and it is saidFor certain in our story, sheWould ever with Marina be:Be't when she weaved the sleided silkWith fingers long, small, white as milk;Or when she would with sharp needle woundThe cambric, which she made more soundBy hurting it; or when to the luteShe sung, and made the night-bird mute,That still records with moan; or whenShe would with rich and constant penVail to her mistress Dian; stillThis Philoten contends in skillWith absolute Marina: soWith the dove of Paphos might the crowVie feathers white. Marina getsAll praises, which are paid as debts,And not as given. This so darksIn Philoten all graceful marks,That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,A present murderer does prepareFor good Marina, that her daughterMight stand peerless by this slaughter.The sooner her vile thoughts to stead,Lychorida, our nurse, is dead:And cursed Dionyza hathThe pregnant instrument of wrathPrest for this blow. The unborn eventI do commend to your content:Only I carry winged timePost on the lame feet of my rhyme;Which never could I so convey,Unless your thoughts went on my way.Dionyza does appear,With Leonine, a murderer.
Exit