CLEON

My Dyoniza shall we rest us here, And by relating tales of others griefs, See if will each us to forget our own ? Oh Di niza. Who wants food, and will not say he wants it, Or can conceal his hunger till he famish? Our tongues and sorrows to found deep: Our woes into the air, our exes 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. This Tharsus over which I have the government, A City on whom plenty held full hand: For riches strew'de her self even in her streets, Whose towers boar heads so high they kissed the clouds, And strangers never beheld, but wondered at, Whose men and dams so jetted and adorned, one another's glass to trim them by, Their tables were stored full to glad the sighed, And not so much to feed on as delight, All poverty was scor'nde, and pride so great, The name of help grew odious to repeat. I thought as much. One sorrow never comes but brings and heir, That may succcede as his inheritor: And so ours, some neighbouring nation, Taking advantage of our misery, That stum t't the hollow vessels with their power, To Beatrice us down, the which are down already, And make a conquest of unhappy me, Whereas no glories God to overcome. Thou speakest Like hymns vntuterd to repeat, Who makes the fairest show, means most deceit. But bring they what they will, and what they can, What needs we leave our grounds 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? Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist, If wars, we are unable to resist. The which when any shall not gratify, Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought, Be it our Wives, our Children, or our selves, The Curse of heaven and men succeed their evils: Till when the which (I hope) shall near be seen: Your Grace is welcome to our Town and us. Oh Dioniza, such a piece of sla ghter, The Sun and Moon never looked upon. Were I chief Lord of all this spacious world, Idem give it to undo the deed. Oh Lady much less in blood then virtue, yet a Princes to equal any single Crown ath earth I h lustice of compare, Oh villain, Leonine whom thou hast poisoned too, if thou hadst drunk to him tad been a kindness becoming well thy face, what canst thou say when noble Pericles shall demand his child? 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 thy gave their creatures in abundance, As houses are defil'de for want of use, They are now starved of exercise, Those palates who not yet too savers younger, Must have inventions to delight the taste, Would now be glad of bred and beg for it, Those mother's who to nouzell up their babes, Thought nought too curious, are ready now To eat those little darlings whom they lou'de, So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and w e, 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 fallen, Have scarce strength left to give them burial. Is not this true? Oh go too, well, well, of all the faults beneath the heavens, the Gods do Like this worst. To such proceeding who ever but his approba cion added, though not his p nce consent, he did not flow from honourable courses. Heavens forgive it. Thou art Like the Harpy, Which to betray, dost with thine Angels face cea with thine Eagles talents. Oh let those Cities that of plenties cup, And her prosperities so largely taste, With their superfluous riots hear these tears, The misery of Tharsus may be theirs. Here, speak out thy sorrows, which thee bringest n hast, for comfort is too far for us to expect. Fear not (my Lord) but think your Grace, That fed my Country with your Corn; for which, The peoples prayers still fallen upon you, must in your child Be thought on if neglection should therein make me vile, The common body by you relieved, Would force me to my duty: but if to that, My nature need a spur, the Gods revenge it Upon me and mine, to the end of generation. Weel bring your Grace ene to the edge that shore, then give you up to the masked Neptune, and the gentlest winds of heaven. Madam, if this you purpose as you speak, Diana's Temple is not distant far, Where you may abide till your date expire, Moreover if you please a Niece of mine, Shall there attend you. Your shakes of foe tune, though they hant you mortally Yet glance full wondringly on us.