Than to be thirsty after tottering honour,
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags,
To please the fool and death".

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-

Enter Two Servants with a Chest.

Serv. So; lift there.

Cer.

Serv.

What is that?

Sir, even now

Set 't down, let's look on it.

Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest; "Tis of some wreck.

Cer.

2 Gent. 'Tis like a coffin, sir. Cer.

Whate'er it be, "Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight; If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold, It is a good constraint of fortune, that It belches upon us.

Mr. Steevens had seen an old Flemish print in which Death was exhibited in the act of plundering a miser of his bags, and the Fool (discriminated by his bauble, &c.) was standing behind and grinning at the process. The Dance of Death appears to have been anciently a popular exhibition. A venerable and aged clergyman informed Mr. Steevens that he had once been a spectator of it. The dance consisted of Death's contrivances to surprise the Merry Andrew, and of the Merry Andrew's efforts to elude the stratagems of Death, by whom at last he was overpowered; his finale being attended with such circumstances as mark the exit of the Dragon of Wantley. It should seem that the general idea of this serio-comic pas-de-deux had been borrowed from the ancient Dance of Machabre, commonly called the Dance of Death, which appears to have heen anciently acted in churches like the Moralities. The subject was a frequent ornament of cloisters both here and abroad. The reader will remember the beautiful series of wood cuts of the Dance of Death, attributed (though erroneously) to Holbein. Mr. Douce is in possession of an exquisite set of initial letters, representing the same subject; in one of which the Fool is engaged in a very stout combat with his adversary, and is actually buffeting him with a bladder filled with peas or pebbles, an instrument used by modern merry Andrews.

2 Gent.

'Tis so, my lord.

Cer. How close 'tis caulk'd and bitum'd!—

Did the sea cast it up?

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

Cer.

Come, wrench it open; Soft, soft!-it smells most sweetly in my sense. 2 Gent. A delicate odour.

Cer. As ever hit my nostril; so,-up with it. O you most potent god! what's here? a corse! 1 Gent. Most strange!

Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and en

treasur'd

With bags of spices full! A passport too!

Apollo, perfect me i'the characters!

Here I give to understand

[Unfolds a Scroll.

[Reads.

(If e'er this coffin drive a-lands),

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 liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heart

That even cracks for woe!-This chanc'd to-night.

2 Gent. Most likely, sir.

Cer.

Nay, certainly to-night;

For look, how fresh she looks!-They were too

rough,

That threw her in the sea. Make fire within;
Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet.
Death may usurp on nature many hours,

And yet the fire of life kindle again

8 In Twine's translation of the story of Apollonius of Tyre this uncommon phrase, a-'and, is repeatedly used. In that version it is to Cerimon's pupil, Machaon, and not to Cerimon himself, that the lady is indebted for her recovery.

The overpressed spirits. I have heard

Of an Egyptian, had nine hours lien dead,
By good appliance was recover'd.

Enter a Servant, with Boxes, Napkins, and Fire.
Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths.-
The rough and woful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, 'beseech you.

The vial 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 entranc'd
Above five hours. See, how she 'gins to blow
Into life's flower again!

1 Gent.
The heavens, sir,
Through you, increase our wonder, and set up
Your fame for ever.

Cer.

She is alive; behold,

Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels
Which Pericles hath lost,

Begin to part their fringes of bright gold9;
The diamonds of a most praised water

Appear, to make the world twice rich. O live,
And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature,
Rare as you seem to be!
[She moves.

Thai.

O dear Diana,

Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is

this10 ?

2 Gent. Is not this strange?

9 So in the Tempest:

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say what thou seest yond?"

10 This is from the Confessio Amantis :

And first hir eyen up she caste,

And when she more of strength caught,
Her armes both forth she straughte;
Held up hir honde and piteouslie

She spake, and said, Where am I?

Where is my lorde? What worlde is this?'

Hush, 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, come;
And Esculapius guide us!

[Exeunt carrying THAISA away.

SCENE III.

Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House.

Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, LYCHORIDA, and MARINA.

Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus stands In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods Make up the rest upon you!

Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally1,

Yet glance full wand'ringly on us.

Dion.

O your sweet queen! That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought

her hither,

To have bless'd mine eyes!

Per.

We cannot but obey

The old copy reads:

"Your shakes of fortune, though they haunt you mortally,

Yet glance full wond'ringly,' &c.

The folios have though they hate you. The emendation is by Steevens, who cites the following illustrations :-'Omnibus telis fortuna proposita sit vita nostra.-Cicero Epist. Fam.

"The shot of accident or dart of chance.'

Othello.

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.' Hamlet.

I am glad, though you have taken a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.-Merry Wives of Windsor. The sense of the passage seems to be, all the malice of fortune is not confined to yourself, though her arrows strike deeply at you, yet wandering from their mark, they sometimes glance on us; as at present, when the uncertain state of Tyre deprives us of your company at Tharsus,

The powers above us.

Could I rage

and roar

As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end
Must be as 'tis. My babe Marina (whom
For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so) here
I charge your charity withal, and leave her
The infant of your care; beseeching you

To give her princely training, that she may be
Manner'd as she is born.

Cle.
Fear not, my lord, but think2
Your grace, that fed my country with your corn
(For which the people's prayers still fall upon you),
Must in your child be thought on. If neglection
Should therein make me vile, the common body,
By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty:
But if to that my nature need a spur,

The gods revenge it upon me and mine,
To the end of generation!

Per.

I believe you;

Your honour and your goodness teach me credit3,
Without your vows. Till she be married, madam,
By bright Diana, whom we honour all,

Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain,
Though I show will in't. So I take my leave.
Good madam, make me blessed in your care
In bringing up my child.

Dion.

I have one myself, Who shall not be more dear to my respect,

Than yours, my lord.

Per.

Madam, my thanks and prayers. Cle. W'ell bring your grace even to the edge

o'the shore;

2 i. e. be satisfied that we cannot forget the benefits you have bestowed on us.

3 The old copy reads, teach me to it: the alteration was made by Steevens.

4 i. e. appear wilful, perverse by such conduct.

reads in the preceding line:

Unsister'd shall this heir of mine,' &c.

The old copy

The corruption is obvious, as appears from a subsequent passage:This ornament that makes me look so dismal

Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form,' &c.