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Scene Study (Male-Female)


Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear.


Hum, ha!

Pushing her roughly back.


I am a maid,

My lord, that ne’er before invited eyes,

But have been gaz’d on like a comet. She speaks,

My lord, that, may be, hath endur’d a grief

Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh’d.

Though wayward fortune did malign my state,

My derivation was from ancestors

Who stood equivalent with mighty kings,

But time hath rooted out my parentage,

And to the world and awkward casualties

Bound me in servitude.


I will desist,

But there is something glows upon my cheek,

And whispers in mine ear, “Go not till he speak.”


My fortunes—parentage—good parentage—

To equal mine—was it not thus? What say you?


I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage,

You would not do me violence.


I do think so. Pray you turn your eyes upon me.

You’re like something that—What country-woman?

Here of these shores?


No, nor of any shores,

Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am

No other than I appear.


I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping.

My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one

My daughter might have been. My queen’s square brows,

Her stature to an inch, as wand-like straight,

As silver-voic’d, her eyes as jewel-like

And cas’d 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?


Where I am but a stranger. From the deck

You may discern the place.


Where were you bred?

And how achiev’d you these endowments which

You make more rich to owe?


If I should tell my history, it would seem

Like lies disdain’d in the reporting.


Prithee speak.

Falseness cannot come from thee, for thou lookest

Modest as Justice, and thou seemest 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 lookest

Like one I lov’d indeed. What were thy friends?

Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back—

Which was when I perceiv’d thee—that thou cam’st

From good descending?


So indeed I did.


Report thy parentage. I think thou saidst

Thou hadst been toss’d from wrong to injury,

And that thou thoughts’ thy griefs might equal mine,

If both were opened.


Some such thing

I said, and said no more but what my thoughts

Did warrant me was likely.


Tell thy story;

If thine, considered, prove the thousand part

Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I

Have suffered 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.


My name is Marina.


O, I am mock’d,

And thou by some incensed god sent hither

To make the world to laugh at me.


Patience, good sir!

Or here I’ll cease.


Nay, I’ll be patient.

Thou little know’st how thou dost startle me

To call thyself Marina.


The name

Was given me by one that had some power,

My father, and a king.


How, a king’s daughter?

And call’d Marina?


You said you would believe me,

But not to be a troubler of your peace,

I will end here.


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?


Call’d Marina

For I was born at sea.


At sea! what mother?


My mother was the daughter of a king,

Who died the minute I was born,

As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft

Delivered weeping.


O, stop there a little!


This is the rarest dream that e’er dull’d sleep

Did mock sad fools withal. This cannot be

My daughter—buried!—Well, where were you bred?

I’ll hear you more, to th’ bottom of your story,

And never interrupt you.


You scorn. Believe me, ’twere best I did give o’er.


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?


The King my father did in Tharsus leave me,

Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife,

Did seek to murder me; and having wooed

A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do’t,

A crew of pirates came and rescued me;

Brought me to Meteline. But, good sir,

Whither will you have me? Why do you weep? It may be

You think me an imposture. No, good faith;

I am the daughter to King Pericles,

If good King Pericles be.


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