Act 3, Scene I - Page 2

for she must overboard straight.

PERICLES
As you think meet. Most wretched queen!

LYCHORIDA
Here she lies, sir.

PERICLES
A terrible childbed 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 e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse,
Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida,
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper,
My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander
Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe
Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman.

Exit LYCHORIDA

Second Sailor
Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked
and bitumed ready.

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

Second Sailor
We are near Tarsus.

PERICLES
Thither, gentle mariner.
Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?

Second Sailor
By break of day, if the wind cease.

PERICLES
O, make for Tarsus!
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.

Exeunt