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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 earnest

       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.

       PERICLES.

       Ho, Helicanus!

       HELICANUS.

       Calls my lord?

       PERICLES.

       Thou art a grave and noble counsellor,

       Most wise in general: tell me, if thou canst,

       What this maid is, or what is like to be,

       That thus hath made me weep?

       HELICANUS.

       I know not; but

       Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene

       Speaks nobly of her.

       LYSIMACHUS.

       She would never tell

       Her parentage; being demanded that,

       She would sit still and weep.

       PERICLES.

       O Helicanus, strike me, honour’d sir;

       Give me a gash, put me to present pain;

       Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me

       O’erbear the shores of my mortality,

       And drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither,

       Thou that beget’st him that did thee beget;

       Thou

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