Act 2 - Scene 1

Pentapolis. An open place by the sea-side.

Enter PERICLES, wet

PERICLES

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 the rocks,
Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath
Nothing to think on but ensuing death:
Let 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

First Fisherman

What, ho, Pilch!

Second Fisherman

Ha, come and bring away the nets!

First Fisherman

What, Patch-breech, I say!

Third Fisherman

What say you, master?

First Fisherman

Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I'll
fetch thee with a wanion.

Third Fisherman

Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that
were cast away before us even now.

First Fisherman

Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what
pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when,
well-a- day, we could scarce help ourselves.

Third Fisherman

Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the
porpus how he bounced and tumbled? they say
they're 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.

First Fisherman

Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the
little ones: I can compare our rich misers to
nothing so 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 parish, church,
steeple, bells, and all.