Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant.
Lyc. 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
Per. How! how, Lychorida!

queen.

Lyc. 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.

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

Vie honour with yourselves.*

Patience, good sir,

Now, mild may be thy life!

For a more blust'rous birth had never babe:

Quiet and gentle thy conditions !"

For thou'rt the rudeliest welcom'd to this world, That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows! Thou hast as chiding a nativity,

6

As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make, To herald thee from the womb: even at the first, Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,7

3 who, if it had

Conceit,] If it had thought.

* Vie honour with yourselves.] The meaning is, In this particular you might learn from us a more honourable conduct.

5 Quiet and gentle thy conditions!] Conditions anciently meant qualities; dispositions of mind.

as chiding a nativity,] i. e. as noisy a one.

Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit,] i. e. thou hast already lost more (by the death of thy mother) than thy safe arrival at the port of life can counterbalance, with all to boot that we can give thee.

With all thou canst find here.-Now the good gods Throw their best eyes upon it!

Enter Two Sailors.

1 Sail. What courage, sir? God save you. Per. Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw;8

It hath done to me the worst.

Yet, for the love

Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer,

I would, it would be quiet.

1 Sail. Slack the bolins there; thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself.

2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.

1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard; the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.

Per. That's your superstition.

1 Sail. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it still hath been observed; and we are strong in earnest. Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight.

Per. Be it as you think meet.-Most wretched queen!

Lyc. Here she lies, sir.

Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear;
No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements
Forgot thee utterly; nor have I time

To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight
Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze;
Where, for a monument upon thy bones,
And ayc-remaining lamps, the belching whale

8 I do not fear the flaw ;] i. e. the blast.

• Slack the bolins there;] Bowlines are ropes by which the sails of a ship are governed when the wind is unfavourable. They are slackened when it is high.

And aye-remaining lamps, &c.] Instead of a monument erected above thy bones, AND perpetual lamps to burn near them, the spout

And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells. Lychorida,
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and
paper,
My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
Bring me the sattin coffer: lay the babe
Upon the pillow; hie thee, whiles I say
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

[Exit LYCHORIDA.

2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulk'd and bitumed ready.

Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this?

2. Sail. We are near Tharsus. Per. Thither, gentle mariner,

Alter thy course for Tyre. When can'st thou reach it?

2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease. Per. O make for Tharsus.

There will I visit Cleon, for the babe

Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it
At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner;
I'll bring the body presently.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House.

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

Cer. Philemon, ho!

Enter PHILEMON.

Phil. Doth my lord call?

ing-whale shall oppress thee with his weight, and the mass of waters shall roll with low heavy murmur over thy head.

Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men; It has been a turbulent and stormy night.

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

Till now, I ne'er endur'd.

Cer. Your master will be dead ere you return; There's nothing can be minister'd to nature, That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary, And tell me how it works. [TO PHILEMON. [Exeunt PHILEMON, Servant, and those who had been shipwrecked.

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 surprize and fear
Made me to quit the house.

2 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so early; "Tis not our husbandry.3

Cer.

O, you say well.

1 Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship,

having

Rich tire about you, should at these early hours
Shake off the golden slumber of repose.

It is most strange,

The very principals did seem to rend,

And all to topple :] The principals are the strongest rafters in the roof of a building. The word topple means tumble.

'Tis not our husbandry.] Husbandry here signifies economical prudence.

Nature should be so conversant with pain,
Being thereto not compell'd.

I held it ever,

Cer
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 physick, 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 dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones;
And I can speak of the disturbances

That nature works, and of her cures; which 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.3

2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth

Your charity, and hundreds call themselves
Your creatures, who by you have been restor❜d:
And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even
Your purse, still open, hath built lord Cerimon
Such strong renown as time shall never-

• Virtue and cunning-] Cunning means here knowledge. 5 To please the fool and death.] Mr. Malone says, that the Fool and Death were principal personages in the old moralities, but Mr. Steevens thinks this more than doubtful, yet allows that they occurred in dances.