Enter Helicanus and Aeschines, with other lords

HELICANUS

You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre,

Further to question of your King’s departure.

His sealed commission left in trust with me

Does speak sufficiently he’s gone to travel.

THALIART (aside) How? The King gone?

HELICANUS

If further yet you will be satisfied

Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves,

He would depart, I’ll give some light unto you.

Being at Antioch—

THALIART (aside)

What from Antioch?

HELICANUS

Royal Antiochus, on what cause I know not,

Took some displeasure at him—at least he judged so—

And doubting lest that he had erred or sinned,

To show his sorrow he’d correct himself;

So puts himself unto the ship-man’s toil,

With whom each minute threatens life or death.

THALIART (aside)

Well, I perceive I shall not be hanged now,

Although I would.

But since he’s gone, the King’s ears it must please

He scaped the land to perish on the seas.

I’ll present myself.—Peace to the lords of Tyre.

Lord Thaliart am I, of Antioch.

⌈HELICANUS⌉

Lord Thaliart of Antioch is welcome.

THALIART

From King Antiochus I come

With message unto princely Pericles,

But since my landing I have understood

Your lord’s betook himself to unknown travels.

Now my message must return from whence it came.

HELICANUS

We have no reason to enquire it,

Commended to our master, not to us.

Yet ere you shall depart, this we desire:

As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. Exeunt

Sc. 4 Enter Cleon, the Governor of Tarsus, with Dionyza his wife, and others

CLEON

My Dionyza, shall we rest us here

And, by relating tales of others’ griefs,

See if ’twill teach us to forget our own?

DIONYZA

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, e’en such our griefs are;

Here they’re but felt and seen with midges’ eyes,

But like to groves, being topped they higher rise.

CLEON O Dionyza,

Who wanteth food and will not say he wants it,

Or can conceal his hunger till he famish?

Our tongues our sorrows dictate to sound deep

Our woes into the air, our eyes to weep

Till lungs fetch breath that may proclaim them louder,

That, if heav’n slumber while their creatures want,

They may awake their helps to comfort them.

I’ll then discourse our woes, felt sev’ral years,

And, wanting breath to speak, help me with tears.

DIONYZA As you think best, sir.

CLEON

This Tarsus o‘er which I have the government,

A city o’er whom plenty held full hand,

For riches strewed herself ev’n in the streets,

Whose tow‘rs 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.

DIONYZA O, ’tis too true.

CLEON

But see what heav’n can do by this our change.

Those 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 weeping stands a lord, there lies a lady dying,

Here many sink, yet those which see them fall

Have scarce strength left to give them burial.

Is not this true?

DIONYZA

Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.

CLEON

O, let those cities that of plenty’s cup

And her prosperities so largely taste

With their superfluous riots, heed these tears!

The misery of Tarsus may be theirs.

Enter a ⌈fainting⌉Lord of Tarsus ⌈slowly⌉

LORD Where’s the Lord Governor?

CLEON

Here. Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring‘st in

haste,

For comfort is too far for us t’expect.

LORD

We have descried upon our neighbouring shore

A portly sail of ships make hitherward.

CLEON I thought as much.

One sorrow never comes but brings an heir

That may succeed as his inheritor,

And so in ours. Some neighbour nation,

Taking advantage of our misery,

Hath stuffed these hollow vessels with their power

To beat us down, the which are down already,

And make a conquest of unhappy men,

Whereas no glory’s got to overcome.