Princes -- Lebanon -- Tyre -- Drama; Tragicomedy; Tyre (Lebanon) -- Drama
FIRST LORD.
He had need mean better than his outward show
Can any way speak in his just commend;
For by his rusty outside he appears
To have practised more the whipstock than the lance.
SECOND LORD.
He well may be a stranger, for he comes
To an honour’d triumph strangely furnished.
THIRD LORD.
And on set purpose let his armour rust
Until this day, to scour it in the dust.
SIMONIDES.
Opinion’s but a fool, that makes us scan
The outward habit by the inward man.
But stay, the knights are coming.
We will withdraw into the gallery.
[_Exeunt. Great shouts within, and all cry_ ‘The mean Knight!’]
SCENE III. The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared.
Enter Simonides, Thaisa, Lords, Attendants and Knights, from tilting.
SIMONIDES.
Knights,
To say you’re welcome were superfluous.
To place upon the volume of your deeds,
As in a title-page, your worth in arms,
Were more than you expect, or more than’s fit,
Since every worth in show commends itself.
Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast:
You are princes and my guests.
THAISA.
But you, my knight and guest;
To whom this wreath of victory I give,
And crown you king of this day’s happiness.
PERICLES.
’Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit.
SIMONIDES.
Call it by what you will, the day is yours;
And here, I hope, is none that envies it.
In framing an artist, art hath thus decreed,
To make some good, but others to exceed;
And you are her labour’d scholar. Come queen of the feast,—
For, daughter, so you are,—here take your place:
Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace.
KNIGHTS.
We are honour’d much by good Simonides.
SIMONIDES.
Your presence glads our days; honour we love;
For who hates honour hates the gods above.
MARSHALL.
Sir, yonder is your place.
PERICLES.
Some other is more fit.
FIRST KNIGHT.
Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen
Have neither in our hearts nor outward eyes
Envied the great, nor shall the low despise.
PERICLES.
You are right courteous knights.
SIMONIDES.
Sit, sir, sit.
By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts,
These cates resist me, he but thought upon.
THAISA.
By Juno, that is queen of marriage,
All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury,
Wishing him my meat. Sure, he’s a gallant gentleman.
SIMONIDES.
He’s but a country gentleman;
Has done no more than other knights have done;
Has broken a staff or so; so let it pass.
THAISA.
To me he seems like diamond to glass.
PERICLES.
Yon king’s to me like to my father’s picture,
Which tells me in that glory once he was;
Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne,
And he the sun, for them to reverence;
None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights,
Did vail their crowns to his supremacy:
Where now his son’s like a glow-worm in the night,
The which hath fire in darkness, none in light:
Whereby I see that time’s the king of men,
He’s both their parent, and he is their grave,
And gives them what he will, not what they crave.
SIMONIDES.
What, are you merry, knights?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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