Act III, Scene iii
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; | |
| | My twelve months are expired, 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! | |
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| | CLEON.: | |
| | Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally, | |
| | Yet glance full wanderingly on us. | |
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| | DIONYZA.: | |
| | O, your sweet queen! | |
| | That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither, | |
| | To have bless'd mine eyes with her! | |
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | We cannot but obey | |
| | The powers above us. Could I rage and roar | |
| | As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end | |
| | Must be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom, | |
| | For she was born at sea, I have named so, here | |
| | I charge your charity withal, leaving her | |
| | The infant of your care; beseeching you | |
| | To give her princely training, that she may be | |
| | Manner'd as she is born. | |
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| | CLEON.: | |
| | Fear not, my lord, but think | |
| | 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 relieved, 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! | |
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | I believe you; | |
| | Your honour and your goodness teach me to 't, | |
| | 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 ill in 't. So I take my leave | |
| | Good madam, make me blessed in your care | |
| | In bringing up my child. | |
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| | DIONYZA.: | |
| | I have one myself, | |
| | Who shall not be mere dear to my respect | |
| | Than yours, my lord. | |
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | Madam, my thanks and prayers. | |
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| | CLEON.: | |
| | We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore, | |
| | Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and | |
| | The gentlest winds of heaven. | |
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| | PERICLES.: | |
| | I will embrace | |
| | Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears, | |
| | Lychorida, no tears: | |
| | Look to your little mistress, on whose grace | |
| | You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord. | |
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