Page 183 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Exit.

Scene I IT

Enter Pericles a-shipboard.

PERICLES
The 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 called them from the deep! O, still
Thy deafening, dreadful thunders, gently quench [5]

Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida.
How does my queen? Then, storm, venomously
Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman’s whistle
Is as a whisper in the ears of death,

Unheard. Lychorida! Lucina, O [10]
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! Now, Lychorida!

Enter Lychorida with a baby.

LYCHORIDA
Here is a thing too young for such a place, [15]
Who if it had conceit would die as I
Am like to do. Take in your arms this piece

Of your dead queen.

PERICLES

How? How, Lychorida?

LYCHORIDA
Patience, good sir, do not assist the storm.
Here’s all that is left living of your queen, [20]
A little daughter; for the sake of it,