Slack the bolins there! – Thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself.

2. SAIL. But sea-room, and the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.

1. SAIL. Sir, your queen must overboard. The sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be clear'd of the dead.

PER. That's your superstition.

1. SAIL. Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still observ'd, and we are strong in [custom]; therefore briefly yield 'er, for she must overboard straight.

PER. As you think meet. Most wretched queen!

LYC. Here she lies, sir.

PER.

A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear,

No light, no fire. Th' 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,

The [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 coffin. Lay the babe

Upon the pillow. Hie thee, whiles I say

A priestly farewell to her. Suddenly, woman.

 

[Exit Lychorida.]

 

2. SAIL. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulk'd and bitum'd ready.

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

2. SAIL. We are near Tharsus.

PER.

Thither, gentle mariner,

Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it?

1. SAIL.

By break of day, if the wind cease.

PER.

O, make for Tharsus!

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.

 

 

[Scene II]

Enter Lord Cerimon with a Servant [and another Man, both storm-beaten].

 

CER.

Philemon, ho!

 

Enter Philemon.

 

PHIL.

Doth my lord call?

CER.

Get fire and meat for these poor men.

 

[Exit Philemon.]

 

'T 'as been a turbulent and stormy night.

SERV.

I have been in many; but such a night as this

Till now I ne'er endured.

CER.

Your master will be dead ere you return,

There's nothing can be minist'red to nature

That can recover him.

 

[To the other Man.]

 

Give this to the pothecary,

And tell me how it works.

[Exeunt Servant and other Man.]

 

Enter two Gentlemen.

 

1. GENT.

Good morrow.

2.