Pericles Prince of Tyre.
Are like the Troian Horse, was stuft within
With bloody veines expecting ouerthrow,
Are stor'd with Corne, to make your needie bread,
And giue them life, whom hunger-staru'd halfe dead.
With bloody veines expecting ouerthrow,
Are stor'd with Corne, to make your needie bread,
And giue them life, whom hunger-staru'd halfe dead.
Omnes.The Gods of Greece protect you,
And wee'le pray for you.
And wee'le pray for you.
Per.Arise I pray you, rise; we do not looke for reuerence,
But for loue, and harborage for our selfe, our ships, & men.
But for loue, and harborage for our selfe, our ships, & men.
Cleon.The which when any shall not gratifie,
Or pay you with vnthankfulnesse in thought,
Be it our Wiues, our Children, or our selues,
The Curse of heauen and men succeed their euils:
Till when the which (I hope) shall neare be seene:
Your Grace is welcome to our Towne and vs.
Peri. Which welcome wee'le accept, feast here awhile,
ExeuntVntill our Starres that frowne, lend vs a simile.
Or pay you with vnthankfulnesse in thought,
Be it our Wiues, our Children, or our selues,
The Curse of heauen and men succeed their euils:
Till when the which (I hope) shall neare be seene:
Your Grace is welcome to our Towne and vs.
Peri. Which welcome wee'le accept, feast here awhile,
ExeuntVntill our Starres that frowne, lend vs a simile.
Enter Gower.
Heere haue you seene a mightie King,
His child I'wis to incest bring:
A better Prince, and benigne Lord,
That Will proue awfull both in deed and word:
Be quiet then, as men should bee,
Till he hath past necessitie:
I'le shew you those in troubles raigne;
Loosing a Mite,a Mountaine gaine:
The good in conuersation,
To whom I give my benizon:
Is still at Tharstill, where each man,
Thinkes all is writ, he spoken can:
And to remember what he does,
Build his Statue to make him glorious:
But tidinges to the contrarie,
Are brought your eyes, what need speake I.
His child I'wis to incest bring:
A better Prince, and benigne Lord,
That Will proue awfull both in deed and word:
Be quiet then, as men should bee,
Till he hath past necessitie:
I'le shew you those in troubles raigne;
Loosing a Mite,a Mountaine gaine:
The good in conuersation,
To whom I give my benizon:
Is still at Tharstill, where each man,
Thinkes all is writ, he spoken can:
And to remember what he does,
Build his Statue to make him glorious:
But tidinges to the contrarie,
Are brought your eyes, what need speake I.
Dombe
