LITMIR.BIZ

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rich and constant pen

       Vail to her mistress Dian; still

       This Philoten contends in skill

       With absolute Marina: so

       With the dove of Paphos might the crow

       Vie feathers white. Marina gets

       All praises, which are paid as debts,

       And not as given. This so darks

       In Philoten all graceful marks,

       That Cleon’s wife, with envy rare,

       A present murderer does prepare

       For good Marina, that her daughter

       Might stand peerless by this slaughter.

       The sooner her vile thoughts to stead,

       Lychorida, our nurse, is dead:

       And cursed Dionyza hath

       The pregnant instrument of wrath

       Prest for this blow. The unborn event

       I do commend to your content:

       Only I carry winged time

       Post on the lame feet of my rhyme;

       Which never could I so convey,

       Unless your thoughts went on my way.

       Dionyza does appear,

       With Leonine, a murderer.

       [Exit.]

      Scene I. Tarsus. An open place near the seashore.

       [Enter Dionyza and Leonine.]

       DIONYZA.

       Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do ‘t:

       ‘Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.

       Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon,

       To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,

       Which is but cold, inflaming love i’ thy bosom,

       Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which

       Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be

       A soldier to thy purpose.

       LEONINE.

       I will do’t; but yet she is a goodly creature.

       DIONYZA. The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here she comes weeping for her only mistress’ death. Thou art resolved?

       LEONINE.

       I am resolved.

       [Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers.]

       MARINA.

       No, I will rob Tellus of her weed

       To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues,

       The purple violets, and marigolds,

       Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave,

       While summer-days do last. Ay me! poor maid,

       Born in a tempest, when my mother died,

       This world to me is like a lasting storm,

       Whirring me from my friends.

       DIONYZA.

       How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?

       How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not

       Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have

       A nurse of me. Lord, how your favour’s changed

       With this unprofitable woe!

       Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it.

       Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there,

       And it pierces and sharpens the stomach.

       Come,

       Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.

       MARINA.

       No, I pray you;

       I’ll not bereave you of your servant.

       DIONYZA.

       Come, come;

       I love the king your father, and yourself,

       With more than foreign heart. We every day

       Expect him here: when he shall come and find

       Our paragon to all reports thus blasted,

       He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;

       Blame both my lord and me, that we have taken

       No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,

       Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve

       That excellent complexion, which did steal

       The eyes of young and old. Care not for me;

       I can go home alone.

       MARINA.

       Well, I will go;

       But yet I have no desire to it.

       DIONYZA.

       Come, come, I know ‘tis good for you.

       Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least:

       Remember what I have said.

       LEONINE.

       I warrant you, madam.

       DIONYZA.

       I’ll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while:

       Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood:

       What! I must have a care of you.

       MARINA.

       My thanks, sweet madam.

       [Exit Dionyza.]

       Is this wind westerly that blows?

       LEONINE.

       South-west.

       MARINA.

       When I was born, the wind was north.

       LEONINE.

       Was ‘t so?

       MARINA.

       My father, as nurse said, did never fear,

       But cried ‘Good seamen!’ to the sailors, galling

       His kingly hands, haling ropes;

       And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea

       That almost burst the deck.

       LEONINE.

       When was this?

       MARINA.

       When I was born:

       Never was waves nor wind more violent;

       And from the ladder-tackle washes off

       A canvas-climber. ‘Ha!’ says one, wilt out?’

       And with a dropping industry they skip

       From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and

       The master calls, and trebles their confusion.

       LEONINE.

       Come, say your prayers.

       MARINA.

       What mean you?

       LEONINE.

       If you require a little space for prayer,

       I grant it: pray; but be not tedious,

       For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn

       To do my work with haste.

       MARINA.

       Why will you kill rne?

       LEONINE.

       To satisfy my lady.

       MARINA.

       Why would she have me kill’d?

       Now, as I can remember, by my troth,

       I never did her hurt

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