" "Patience, good sir," said Lychorida, "here is all
that is left alive of our dead queen, a little daughter, and for your
child's sake be more manly. Patience, good sir, even for the sake of
this precious charge." Pericles took the new-born infant in his arms,
and he said to the little babe, "Now may your life be mild, for a
more blusterous birth had never babe! May your condition be mild and
gentle, for you have had the rudest welcome that ever prince's child
did meet with! May that which follows be happy, for you have had as
chiding a nativity as fire, air, water, earth, and heaven, could make,
to herald you from the womb! Even at the first, your loss," meaning in
the death of her mother, "is more than all the joys which you shall
find upon this earth, to which you are come a new visitor, shall be
able to recompence."

The storm still continuing to rage furiously, and the sailors having
a superstition that while a dead body remained in the ship the storm
would never cease, they came to Pericles to demand that his queen
should be thrown overboard; and they said, "What courage, sir? God
save you!" "Courage enough," said the sorrowing prince: "I do not fear
the storm; it has done to me its worst; yet for the love of this poor
infant, this fresh new sea-farer, I wish the storm was over." "Sir,"
said the sailors, "your queen must overboard. The sea works high, the
wind is loud, and the storm will not abate till the ship be cleared
of the dead." Though Pericles knew how weak and unfounded this
superstition was, yet he patiently submitted, saying, "As you think
meet. Then she must overboard, most wretched queen!" And now this
unhappy prince went to take a last view of his dear wife, and as he
looked on his Thaisa, he said, "A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my
dear; no light, no fire; the unfriendly elements forgot thee utterly,
nor have I time to bring thee hallowed to thy grave, but must cast
thee scarcely coffined into the sea, where for a monument upon thy
bones the humming waters must overwhelm thy corpse, lying with simple
shells. O Lychorida, bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper, my
casket and my jewels, and bid Nicandor bring me the satin coffin. Lay
the babe upon the pillow, and go about this suddenly, Lychorida, while
I say a priestly farewel to my Thaisa."

They brought Pericles a large chest, in which (wrapt in a satin
shroud) he placed his queen, and sweet-smelling spices he strewed
over her, and besi