Act 2 - Scene 1
Pentapolis. An open place by the sea-side.
Enter PERICLES, wet
Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven!
Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man
Is but a
substance that must yield to you;
And I, as fits my nature, do obey you:
Alas, the sea hath cast me on
Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath
Nothing to think on but ensuing death:
it suffice the greatness of your powers
To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes;
And having thrown him
from your watery grave,
Here to have death in peace is all he'll crave.
Enter three FISHERMEN
What, ho, Pilch!
Ha, come and bring away the nets!
What, Patch-breech, I say!
What say you, master?
Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I'll
fetch thee with a wanion.
Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that
were cast away before us even now.
Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what
pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when,
day, we could scarce help ourselves.
Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the
porpus how he bounced and tumbled? they say
half fish, half flesh: a plague on them,
they ne'er come but I look to be washed. Master, I
marvel how the
fishes live in the sea.
Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the
little ones: I can compare our rich misers to
fitly as to a whale; a' plays and
tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at
last devours them all at a
mouthful: such whales
have I heard on o' the land, who never leave gaping
till they've swallowed the whole
steeple, bells, and all.
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