Start: MARINA: Hail, sir! my lord, le...

Start:

MARINA: Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear.

PERICLES: Hum, ha!

MARINA: I am a maid,

My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes,

But have been gazed on like a comet: she speaks,

My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief

Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd.

Though wayward fortune did malign my state,

My derivation was from ancestors

Who stood equivalent with mighty kings:

But time hath rooted out my parentage,

And to the world and awkward casualties

Bound me in servitude.

Aside

I will desist;

But there is something glows upon my cheek,

And whispers in mine ear, 'Go not till he speak.'

PERICLES: My fortunes--parentage--good parentage--

To equal mine!--was it not thus? what say you?

MARINA: I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage,

You would not do me violence.

PERICLES: I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me.

You are like something that--What country-woman?

Here of these shores?

MARINA: No, nor of any shores:

Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am

No other than I appear.

PERICLES: I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.

My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one

My daughter might have been: my queen's square brows;

Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight;

As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like

And cased as richly; in pace another Juno;

Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry,

The more she gives them speech. Where do you live?

MARINA: Where I am but a stranger: from the deck

You may discern the place.

PERICLES: Where were you bred?

And how achieved you these endowments, which

You make more rich to owe?

MARINA: If I should tell my history, it would seem

Like lies disdain'd in the reporting.

PERICLES: Prithee, speak:

Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st

Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace

For the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will

believe thee,

And make my senses credit thy relation

To points that seem impossible; for thou look'st

Like one I loved indeed. What were thy friends?

Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back--

Which was when I perceived thee--that thou camest

From good descending?

MARINA: So indeed I did.

PERICLES: Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st

Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury,

And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine,

If both were open'd.

MARINA: Some such thing

I said, and said no more but what my thoughts

Did warrant me was likely.

PERICLES: Tell thy story;

If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part

Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I

Have suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look

Like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling

Extremity out of act. What were thy friends?

How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin?

Recount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me.

MARINA: My name is Marina.

PERICLES: O, I am mock'd,

And thou by some incensed god sent hither

To make the world to laugh at me.

MARINA: Patience, good sir,

Or here I'll cease.

PERICLES: Nay, I'll be patient.

Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me,

To call thyself Marina.

MARINA: The name

Was given me by one that had some power,

My father, and a king.

PERICLES: How! a king's daughter?

And call'd Marina?

MARINA: You said you would believe me;

But, not to be a troubler of your peace,

I will end here.

PERICLES: But are you flesh and blood?

Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy?

Motion! Well; speak on. Where were you born?

And wherefore call'd Marina?

MARINA: Call'd Marina

For I was born at sea.

PERICLES: At sea! what mother?

MARINA: My mother was the daughter of a king;

Who died the minute I was born,

As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft

Deliver'd weeping.

PERICLES: O, stop there a little!

Aside

This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep

Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be:

My daughter's buried. Well: where were you bred?

I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story,

And never interrupt you.

MARINA: You scorn: believe me, 'twere best I did give o'er.

PERICLES: I will believe you by the syllable

Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave:

How came you in these parts? where were you bred?

MARINA: The king my father did in Tarsus leave me;

Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,

Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd

A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do't,

A crew of pirates came and rescued me;

Brought me to Mytilene. But, good sir,

Whither will you have me? Why do you weep?

It may be,

You think me an impostor: no, good faith;

I am the daughter to King Pericles,

If good King Pericles be.

Shakespeare, William, Pericles, The Riverside Shakespeare, 1974, pp. 1507-1508.