Act 3, Scene 2: Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house

SCENE II. Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house.

    Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked

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 minister'd 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 compell'd.

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 practise, made familiar
    To me and to my aid the blest infusions
    That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
    And I 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 treasure up in silken bags,
    To please the fool and death.

Second Gentleman

    Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd 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 decay.

    Enter two or three Servants with a chest

First Servant

    So; lift there.

CERIMON

    What is that?

First Servant

    Sir, even now
    Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest:
    'Tis of some wreck.

CERIMON

    Set 't down, let's look upon't.

Second Gentleman

    'Tis like a coffin, sir.

CERIMON

    Whate'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 caulk'd and bitumed!
    Did the sea cast it up?

First Servant

    I never saw so huge a billow, sir,
    As toss'd it upon shore.

CERIMON

    Wrench it open;
    Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense.

Second Gentleman

    A delicate odour.

CERIMON

    As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it.
    O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse!

First Gentleman

    Most strange!

CERIMON

    Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd 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 drive 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 even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight.

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'erpress'd 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 set up
    Your fame forever.

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
    Do 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 look'd to,
    For her relapse is mortal. Come, come;
    And AEsculapius guide us!

    Exeunt, carrying her away