Cle.
My Dionyza ^note, shall we rest us here,
And by relating tales of others' griefs,
See if 'twill teach us to forget our own?

Dio.
That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it;

For who digs hills because they do aspire ^note
Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher.
O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are ^note;
Here they're ^note but felt, and seen ^note with mischief's eyes ^note,
But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise.

Cle.
O Dionyza, ^note
Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it,
Or can conceal his hunger till he famish?
Our tongues ^note and sorrows do ^{note note} sound deep ^note
Our woes into the air; our eyes do ^note weep,
Till tongues ^note fetch breath that may proclaim them louder;
That, if heaven ^note slumber while their creatures want,
They may awake their helps ^note to comfort them. ^note
I'll then discourse our ^note woes, felt several years,
And wanting breath to speak help me with tears.

Dio.
I'll do my best, sir.

Cle.
This Tarsus, o'er which I have ^note the government,
A city on whom plenty held full hand,
For ^note riches ^note strew'd herself ^note even in the ^note streets;
Whose towers bore heads ^note so high they kiss'd the clouds,
And strangers ne'er ^note beheld but wonder'd ^note at;

Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd,
Like one another's glass to trim them by:
Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight,
And not so much to feed on as delight;
All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great,
The name of help grew odious to repeat.

Dio.
O, 'tis too ^note true.

Cle.
But see what heaven can do! By ^note this our change,
These mouths, who ^note but of late earth, sea and air,
Were all too little to content and please,
Although they gave their creatures in abundance ^note,
As houses are defiled for want of use,
They are now starved for want of exercise:
Those palates ^note who, not yet ^note two summers younger ^note,
Must have inventions to delight the taste,
Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it:
Those mothers who, to nousle ^note up their babes,
Thought nought too curious, are ready now
To eat those little darlings whom they loved.
So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife
Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life:
Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping;
Here many sink, yet those which see them fall
Have scarce strength left to give them burial.
Is not this true?

Dio.
Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.

Cle.
O, let those cities that of plenty's cup
And her prosperities so largely taste,
With their superfluous riots, hear ^note these tears!
The misery of Tarsus may be theirs.

Enter a Lord.

Lord.
Where's the lord governor?

Cle.
Here.
Speak out thy ^note sorrows which thou bring'st ^note in haste,
For comfort is too far for us to expect. ^note

Lord.
We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore,
A portly sail of ships make hitherward.

Cle.
I thought as much.
One sorrow never comes but brings an heir,
That may succeed as his inheritor;
And so in ours: some neighbouring nation,
Taking advantage of our misery,
Hath ^note stuff'd these ^note hollow vessels with their power,
To beat us down, the which are down already,
And make a conquest of unhappy me ^note,
Whereas no glory's ^note got to overcome.

Lord.
That's the least fear; for, by the semblance
Of their white ^note flags display'd, they bring us peace,
And come to us as favourers, not as foes. ^note

Cle.
Thou speak'st like him's ^note untutor'd to repeat:
Who ^note makes the fairest show means most deceit. ^note
But bring they what they will and what they can ^note,
What need we fear?

The ground's the lowest ^note, ^{note note} and we are half way there.
Go tell their general we attend him here,
To know for what he comes and whence he comes
And what he craves. ^{note note}

Lord.
I go, my lord. [Exit. ^note

Cle.
Welcome is peace ^note, if he on peace consist;
If wars, we are unable to resist. Enter Pericles with Attendants.

Per.
Lord governor, for so we hear you are,
Let not our ships and number of our men
Be like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes.
We have ^note heard your miseries as far as Tyre,
And seen the desolation of your streets:
Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears ^note,
But to relieve ^note them of their heavy load;
And these our ships, you happily may think
Are ^note like the Trojan horse was ^note stuff'd ^note within
With bloody veins ^note expecting ^note overthrow,
Are stored with corn to make your needy bread,
And give them life whom hunger starved ^note half dead.

All. ^note
The gods of Greece protect you!
And we'll pray for you.

Per.
Arise ^note, I pray you, rise ^note:
We do not look for reverence, but for love

And harbourage for ourself, our ships and men ^note. ^note

Cle.
The which when any shall not gratify,
Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought ^note,
Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves,
The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils!
Till when,—the which I hope shall ne'er ^note be seen—
Your grace is welcome to our town and us.

Per.
Which welcome we'll accept; feast here awhile,
Until our stars that frown lend us a smile. [Exeunt. ^note

Previous section