Cerimon ordered the chest to be conveyed to his own house, and when it was opened he beheld with wonder the body of a young and lovely lady; and the sweet-smelling spices and rich casket of jewels made him conclude it was some great person who was thus strangely entombed. Searching farther, he discovered a paper, from which he learned that the corpse which lay as dead before him had been a queen, and wife to Pericles, Prince of Tyre; and much admiring at the strangeness of that accident, and more pitying the husband who had lost this sweet lady, he said: “If you are living, Pericles, you have a heart that even cracks with woe.” Then, observing attentively Thaisa’s face, he saw how fresh and unlike death her looks were, and he said, “They were too hasty that threw you into the sea”; for he did not believe her to be dead. He ordered a fire to be made, and proper cordials to be brought, and soft music to be played, which might help to calm her amazed spirits if she should revive; and he said to those who crowded round her, wondering at what they saw, “O, I pray you, gentlemen, give her air; this queen will live; she has not been entranced above five hours; and see, she begins to blow into life again; she is alive; behold, her eyelids move; this fair creature will live to make us weep to hear her fate.” Thaisa had never died, but after the birth of her little baby had fallen into a deep swoon which made all that saw her conclude her to be dead; and now by the care of this kind gentleman she once more revived to light and life; and, opening her eyes, she said: “Where am I? Where is my lord? What world is this?” By gentle degrees Cerimon let her understand what had befallen her; and when he thought she was enough recovered to bear the sight he showed her the paper written by her husband, and the jewels; and she looked on the paper and said: “It is my lord’s writing. That I was shipped at sea I well remember, but whether there delivered of my babe, by the holy gods I cannot rightly say; but since my wedded lord I never shall see again, I will put on a vestal livery and never more have joy.” “Madam,” said Cerimon, “if you purpose as you speak, the temple of Diana is not far distant from hence; there you may abide as a vestal. Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine shall there attend you.” This proposal was accepted with thanks by Thaisa; and when she was perfectly recovered, Cerimon placed her in the temple of Diana, where she became a vestal or priestess of that goddess, and passed her days in sorrowing for her husband’s supposed loss, and in the most devout exercises of those times.