Enter Cleon, the Governor of Tarsus, with Dionyza,
his wife, and others
My Dionyza, shall we rest us here
And, by relating tales of others' griefs,
See if 'twill teach us to forget our own?
That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it,
For who digs hills because they do aspire
Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher.
O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are.
Here they are but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes,
But like to groves, being topped, they higher rise.
Who wanteth food and will not say he wants it,
Or can conceal his hunger till he famish?
Our tongues and sorrows force us to sound deep
Our woes into the air, our eyes to weep,
Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder,
That, if heaven slumber while their creatures want,
They may awake their helpers to comfort them.
I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years,
And wanting breath to speak, help me with tears.
I'll do my best, sir.
This Tarsus, o'er which I have the government,
A city on whom plenty held full hand,
For riches strewed herself even in her streets,
Whose towers bore heads so high they kissed the clouds,
And strangers ne'er beheld but wondered at,
Whose men and dames so jetted and adorned,
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 scorned, and pride so great,
The name of help grew odious to repeat.
O, 'tis too true!
But see what heaven can do by this our change.
These mouths who but of late earth, sea, and air
Were all too little to content and please,
Although they gave their creatures in abundance,
As houses are defiled for want of use,
They are now starved for want of exercise.
Those palates who, not yet two summers younger,
Must have inventions to delight the taste
Would now be glad of bread and beg for it.
Those mothers who to nuzzle up their babes
Thought naught 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?
Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.
O, let those cities that of plenty's cup
And her prosperities so largely taste
With their superfluous riots, hear these tears!
riot (n.) 1
dissipation, wasteful revelry, extravagance
The misery of Tarsus may be theirs.
Enter a Lord
Where's the lord governor?
Speak out thy sorrows which thou bringest in haste,
For comfort is too far for us to expect.
We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore,
A portly sail of ships make hitherward.
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 stuffed the hollow vessels with their power,
To beat us down, the which are down already,
And make a conquest of unhappy me,
Whereas no glory's got to overcome.
That's the least fear, for by the semblance
Of their white flags displayed they bring us peace,
And come to us as favourers, not as foes.
Thou speakest like him's untutored to repeat:
Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.
But bring they what they will and what they can,
What need we fear?
The ground's the lowest 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.
I go, my lord.
Welcome is peace if he on peace consist;
If wars, we are unable to resist.
Enter Pericles with attendants
Lord governor, for so we hear you are,
Let not our ships and number of our men
Be like a beacon fired t' amaze your eyes.
We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre
And seen the desolation of your streets;
Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears,
But to relieve them of their heavy load;
And these our ships you happily may think
Are like the Trojan horse, was stuffed within
With bloody veins expecting overthrow,
Are stored with corn to make your needy bread,
And give them life whom hunger starved half dead.
The gods of Greece protect you!
And we'll pray for you.
Arise, I pray you, rise.
We do not look for reverence but for love,
And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men.
The which when any shall not gratify,
Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought,
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 be seen –
Your grace is welcome to our town and us.
Which welcome we'll accept, feast here awhile,
Until our stars that frown lend us a smile.