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.