And feen the defolation of your streets:
Nor come we to add forrow to your tears,
But to relieve them of their heavy load ;
And these our ships you happily may think
Are, like the Trojan horfe, war-ftuff'd within,
With bloody views, expecting overthrow,
Are ftor'd with corn, to make your needy bread,
And give them life, who are hunger-starv'd, half dead.
All. The gods of Greece protect you!
Rife, I pray you, rise;
We do not look for reverence, but for love,
And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men.
Cle. The which when any shall not gratify,
with unthankfulness in thought,
Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves,
The curfe of heaven and men fucceed their evils!
Till when, (the which, I hope, shall ne'er be seen,)
Your grace is welcome to our town and us.
Per. Which welcome we'll accept ; feast here a while, Until our stars that frown, lend us a smile.
Gow. Here have you feen a mighty king
His child, I wis, to incest bring;
A better prince, and benign lord,
Prove awful both in deed and word.
Be quiet then, as men fhould be,
Till he hath pafs'd neceflity.
I'll show you thofe in troubles reign,
Lofing a mite, a mountain gain.
The good in converfation
(To whom I give my benizon,)
Is ftill at Tharfus, where each man
Thinks all is writ he spoken can:
And, to remember what he does,
Gild his ftatue glorious:
But tidings to the contrary
Are brought your eyes; what need speak I?
Enter at one door PERICLES, talking with CLEON; all the train with them. Enter at another door, a Gentleman, with a letter to PERICLES; PERICLES fhows the letter to CLEON; then gives the Messenger a reward, and knights Dim. Exeunt PERICLES, CLEON, &c. feverally.
Cow. Good Helicane hath ftaid at home,
Not to eat honey, like a drone,
J.J. Van den Berghe foulp. 1800.
Pub. Apr 20 by Vernor & Hood Poultry
From others' labours; forth he strive
To killen bad, keep good alive;
And, to fulfil his prince' defire,
Sends word of all that haps in Tyrė:
How Thaliard came full bent with fin,
And hid intent, to murder him;
And that in Tharfus was not best
Longer for him to make his reft:
He knowing fo, put forth to feas,
Where when men been, there's feldom eafe;
For now the wind begins to blow;
Thunder above, and deeps below,
Make fuch unquiet, that the fhip
Should house him fafe, is wreck'd and split;
And he, good prince, having all lost,
By waves from coast to coaft is toft:
All perishen of man, of pelf,
Ne aught escapen but himself;
Till fortune, tir'd with doing bad,
Threw him ashore, to give him glad :
And here he comes: what shall be next,
Pardon old Gower; this long's the text.
Pentapolis. An open place, by the fea fide.
Per. Yet cease your ire, ye 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 fea hath caft me on the rocks,
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