Florish.
_New Plays and Maiden-heads are near a-kin,_
_Much follow'd both; for both much money gi'n,_
_If they stand sound, and well: And a good Play_
_(Whose modest Scenes blush on his marriage day,_
_And shake to loose his honour) is like hir_
_That after holy Tie, and first nights stir_
_Yet still is Modesty, and still retains_
_More of the Maid to sight, than Husbands pains;_
_We pray our Play may be so; for I'm sure_
_It has a noble breeder, and a pure,_
_A Learned, and a Poet never went_
_More famous yet 'twixt_ Po, _and silver_ Trent.
Chaucer (_of all admir'd_) _the Story gives,_
_There constant to eternity it lives:_
_If we let fall the Nobleness of this,_
_And the first sound this Child hear, be a hiss,_
_How will it shake the bones of that good man_
_And make him cry from under-ground. Oh fan_
_From me the witless chaff of such a writer_
_That blasts my Bayes, and my fam'd Works makes lighter_
_Than_ Robin Hood, _this is the fear we bring_
_For to say Truth, it were an endless thing:_
_And too ambitious to aspire to him;_
_Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim_
_In this deep water. Do but you hold out_
_Your helping hands, and we shall tack about,_
_And something do to save us: You shall hear_
_Scænes, though below his Art, may yet appear_
_Worth two hours travel. To his bones sweet sleep:_
_Content to you. If this Play do not keep,_
_A little dull time from us, we perceive_
_Our losses fall so thick, we must needs leave._ Florish.
_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Hymen _with a Torch burning: a Boy, in a white Robe_
_before, singing, and strewing Flowers: after_ Hymen, _a_
_Nymph, encompassed in her Tresses, bearing a wheaten_
_Garland. Then_ Theseus _between two other Nymphs, with_
_wheaten Chaplets on their heads. Then_ Hippolita _the Bride_
_lead by_ Theseus, _and another holding a Garland over her_
_head (her Tresses likewise hanging.) After her_ Emilia _holding_
_up her Train_.
The SONG. Musick.
_Roses their sharp spines being gone,_
_Not royal in their smells alone,_
_But in their hew,_
_Maiden-Pinks, of odour faint,_
_Daizies smell-less, yet most quaint_
_And sweet Time true._
_Primrose first born, child of Ver,_
_Merry Spring time's Harbinger,_
_With her bels dimm._
_Oxlips in their Cradles growing,_
_Marigolds on death-beds blowing,_
_Larks-heels trim._
_All dear natures children sweet,_
_Lie fore Bride and Bridegrooms feet,_ [Strew Flowers.
_Blessing their sence._
_Not an Angel of the Air,_
_Bird melodious, or Bird fair,_
_Is absent hence._
_The Crow, the slanderous Cuckooe, nor_
_The boading Raven, nor Clough h[ee]_
_Nor chatt'ring Pie,_
_May on our Bridehouse pearch or sing,_
_Or with them any discord bring_
_But from it fly._
_Enter three Queens in Black, with vails stain'd, with Imperial_
_Crowns. The first Queen falls down at the foot of_ Theseus;
_The second fals down at the foot of_ Hippolita. _The third_
_before_ Emilia.
_1 Qu._ For pities sake, and true gentilities,
Hear and respect me.
_2 Qu._ For your Mothers sake.
And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,
Hear and respect me.
_3 Qu._ Now for the love of him whom _Jove_ hath mark'd
The honor of your Bed, and for the sake
Of clear Virginity, be Advocate
For us, and our distresses: This good deed
Shall raze you out o'th' Book of Trespasses
All you are set down there.
_Thes._ Sad Lady rise.
_Hip._ Stand up.
_Emil._ No knees to me.
What Woman I may steed that is distrest,
Does bind me to her.
_Thes._ What's your request? Deliver you for all?
_1 Qu._ We are three Queens, whose Sovereigns fell before
The wrath of cruel _Creon_; who endur'd
The Beaks of Ravens, Tallents of the Kites,
And pecks of Crows in the foul field[s] of _Thebs_.
He will not suffer us to burn their bones,
To urne their ashes, nor to take th' offence
Of mortal loathsomness from the blest eye
Of holy _Phoebus_, but infects the winds
With stench of our slain Lords. Oh pity Duke,
Thou purger of the earth, draw thy fear'd Sword
That does good turns to th' world; give us the Bones
Of our dead Kings, that we may Chappel them;
And of thy boundless goodness take some note
That for our crowned heads we have no roof;
Save this which is the Lions and the Bears,
And vault to every thing.
_Thes._ Pray you kneel not,
I was transported with your Speech, and suffer'd
Your knees to wrong themselves; I have heard the fortunes
Of your dead Lords, which gives me such lamenting
As wakes my vengeance, and revenge for 'em:
King _Capaneus_, was your Lord the day
That he should marry you, at such a season,
As now it is with me, I met your Groom,
By _Mars's Altar_; you were that time fair;
Not _Juno's Mantle_, fairer than your Tresses,
Nor in more bounty spread her. Your wheaten wreath
Was then not thrash'd, nor blasted; Fortune at you
Dimpled her Cheek with smiles: _Hercules_ our kinsman
(Then weaker than your eyes) laid by his Club,
He tumbled down upon his Nenuan hide
And swore his sinews thaw'd: Oh grief, and time,
Fearful consumers, you will all devour.
_1 Qu._ Oh I hope some God,
Some God hath put his mercy in your manhood
Whereto he'll infuse power, and press you forth
Our undertaker.
_Thes._ Oh no knees, none Widow,
Unto the Helmeted-_Belona_ use them,
And pray for me your Soldier.
Troubl'd I am. [_Turns away._
_2 Qu._ Honoured _Hippolita_
Most dreaded _Amazonian_, that hast slain
The Sith-tusk'd-Bore; that with thy Arm as strong
As it is white, was't near to make the male
To thy Sex captive; but that this thy Lord
Born to uphold Creation, in that honor
First nature stil'd it in, shrunk thee into
The bound thou wast o'er-flowing; at once subduing
Thy force, and thy affection: Soldieress
That equally canst poize sternness with pity,
Whom now I know hast [much] more power on him
Than ever he had on thee, who ow'st his strength,
And his Love too: who is a Servant for
The Tenor of the Speech. Dear Glass of Ladies.
Bid him that we whom flaming war doth scorch,
Under the shadow of his Sword, may cool us:
Require him he advance it o'er our heads;
Speak't in a womans key: like such a woman
As any of us three; weep e'r you fail; lend us a knee;
But touch the ground for us no longer time
Than a Doves motion, when the head's pluckt off:
Tell him if he i'th' blood-ciz'd field, lay swoln
Shewing the Sun his Teeth, grinning at the Moon
What you would do.
_Hip._ Poor Lady say no more:
I had as leif trace this good action with you
As that whereto I'm going, and never yet
Went I so willing, way. My Lord is taken
Heart deep with your distress: Let him consider;
I'll speak anon.
_3 Qu._ Oh my petition was, [_Kneel to_ Emilia.
Set down in Ice, which by hot grief uncandied
Melts into drops, so sorrow wanting form
Is prest with deeper matter.
_Emil._ Pray stand up,
Your grief is written in your cheek.
_3 Qu._ Oh woe,
You cannot read it there; there through my tears,
Like wrinkl'd pebbles in a Glass stream
You may behold 'em (Lady, Lady, alack)
He that will all the treasure know o'th' earth
Must know the Center too; he that will fish
For my least minnow, let him lead his line
To catch one at my heart. Oh pardon me;
Extremity that sharpens sundry wits
Makes me a fool.
_Emil._ Pray you say nothing, pray you,
Who cannot feel, nor see the rain being in't,
Knows neither wet, nor dry, if that you were
The ground-piece of some Painter, I would buy you
T'instruct me 'gainst a capital grief indeed
Such heart-pierc'd demonstration; but alas
Being a natural Sister of our Sex
Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me:
That it shall make a counter-reflect 'gainst
My Brothers heart, and warm it to some pity
Though it were made of stone: pray have good comfort:
_Thes._ Forward to th' Temple, leave not out a jot
O' th' sacred ceremony.
_1 Qu._ Oh this celebration
Will long last, and be more costly than
Your Suppliants war: Remember that your Fame
Knowls in the ear o'th' world: what you do quickly,
Is not done rashly; your first thought is more,
Than others laboured meditance: your premeditating
More than their actions: But oh _Jove_, your actions,
Soon as they move, as Asprays do the fish,
Subdue before they touch: think, dear Duke think
What beds our slain Kings have.
_2 Qu._ What griefs our beds
That our dear Lords have none.
_3 Qu._ None fit for th' dead:
Those that with Cords, Knives, Drams precipitance,
Weary of this worlds light, have to themselves
Been deaths most horrid Agents, humane grace
Affords them dust and shadow.
_1 Qu._ But our Lords
Lie blist'ring 'fore the visitating Sun,
And were good Kings, when living.
_Thes._ It is true, and I will give you comfort,
To give your dead Lords graves:
The which to do must make some work with _Creon_.
_1 Qu._ And that work presents it self to th' doing:
Now 'twill take form, the heats are gone to morrow,
Then bootless toil must recompence it self,
With its own sweat; Now he's secure,
Not dre[a]ms, we stand before your puissance
Wrinching our holy begging in our eyes
To make petition clear.
_2 Qu._ Now you may take him,
Drunk with his victory.
_3 Qu._ And his Army full
Of Bread, and sloth.
_Thes. Artesis_ that best knowest
How to draw out, fit to this enterprize,
The prim'st for this proceeding, and the number
To carry such a business, forth and levy
Our worthiest Instruments, whilst we dispatch
This grand act of our life, this daring deed
Of Fate in wedlock.
_1 Qu._ Dowagers, take hands
Let us be Widows to our woes, delay
Commends us to a famishing hope.
_All._ Farewell.
_2 Qu._ We come unseasonably: But when could grief
Cull forth as unpanged judgement can, fit'st time
For best solicitation.
_Thes._ Why good Ladies,
This is a service, whereto I am going,
Greater than any was; it more imports me
Than all the actions that I have foregone,
Or futurely can cope.
_1 Qu._ The more proclaiming
Our suit shall be neglected, when her Arms,
Able to lock _Jove_ from a Synod, shall
By warranting Moon-light corslet thee, oh when
Her twining Cherries shall their sweetness fall
Upon thy tastful Lips, what wilt thou think
Of rotten Kings, or blubber'd Queens, what care
For what thou feel'st not? what thou feel'st being able
To make _Mars_ spurn his Drom. Oh if thou couch
But one night with her, every hour in't will
Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and
Thou shalt remember nothing more, than what
That Banquet bids thee too.
_Hip._ Though much unlike
You should be so transported, as much sorry
I should be such a Suitor; yet I think
Did I not by th' abstaining of my joy
Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit
That craves a present med'cine, I should pluck
All Ladies scandal on me. Therefore Sir
As I shall here make trial of my Prayers,
Either presuming them to have some force,
Or sentencing for ay their vigor dumb,
Prorogue this business, we are going about, and hang
Your Shield afore your heart, about that neck
Which is my Fee, and which I freely lend
To do these poor Queens service.
_All Queens._ Oh help now
Our Cause cries for your knee.
_Emil._ If you grant not
My Sister her petition in that force,
With that Celerity, and nature which
She makes it in: from henceforth I'll not dare
To ask you any thing, nor be so hardy
Ever to take a Husband.
_Thes._ Pray stand up.
I am intreating of my self to do
That which you kneel to have me; _Pyrithous_
Lead on the Bride; get you and pray the gods
For success, and return; omit not any thing
In the pretended Celebration; Queens
Follow your Soldier (as before) hence you
And at the banks of _Anly_ meet us with
The forces you can raise, where we shall find
The moiety of a number, for a business,
More bigger look't; since that our Theme is haste
I stamp this kiss uppon thy currant Lip,
Sweet keep it as my token; set you forward
For I will see you gone. [_Exeunt towards the Temple._
Farewel my beauteous Sister; _Pyrithous_
Keep the Feast full, bate not an hour on't.
_Pyri._ Sir,
I'll follow you at heels; The Feasts solemnity
Shall want till your return.
_Thes._ Cosin I charge you
Budge not from _Athens_; we shall be returning
E'r you can end this Feast; of which I pray you
Make no abatement; once more farewel all.
_1 Qu._ Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o'th' world.
_[2] Qu._ And earnst a Deity equal with _Mars_.
_3 Qu._ If not above him, for
Thou being but mortal, makest affections bend
To godlike honors; they themselves some say
Groan under such a Mast'ry.
_Thes._ As we are men
Thus should we doe, being sensually subdu'd
We loose our humane Title; good cheer Ladies. _Florish._
Now turn we towards our Comforts. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Palamon, _and_ Arcite.
_Arcite._ Dear _Palamon_, dearer in Love than Blood
And our prime Cosin, yet unhard'ned in
The Crimes of nature; Let us leave the City
_Thebs_, and the temptings in't, before we further
Sully our gloss of youth,
And here to keep in abstinence we shame
As in Incontinence; for not to swim
I' th' aid o'th' current, were almost to sink,
At least to frustrate striving, and to follow
The common stream, 't would bring us to an Eddy
Where we should turn or drown; if labour through,
Our gain but life, and weakness.
_Pal._ Your advice
Is cry'd up with example; what strange ruins
Since first we went to School, may we perceive
Walking in _Thebs_! Skars, and bare weeds
The gain o'th' Martialist, who did propound
To his bold ends, honor, and golden Ingots,
Which though he won, he had not, and now flurted
By peace, for whom he fought, who then shall offer
To _Mars's_ so scorn'd Altar? I doe bleed
When such I meet, and wish great _Juno_ would
Resume her antient fit of _jealousie_
To get the Soldier work, that peace might purge
For her repletion, and retain anew
Her charitable heart now hard, and harsher
Than strife, or war could be.
_Arcite._ Are you not out?
Meet you no ruin, but the Soldier in
The crancks and turns of _Thebs_? you did begin
As if you met decaies of many kinds:
Perceive you none, that do arouse your pity
But th' unconsider'd Soldier?
_Pal._ Yes, I pity
Decaies where-e'er I find them, but such most
That sweating in an honourable toil
Are paid with Ice to cool 'em.
_Arcite._ 'Tis not this
I did begin to speak of, this is virtue
Of no respect in _Thebs_, I spake of _Thebs_
How dangerous if we will keep our honors,
It is for our residing, where every evil
Hath a good colour; where ev'ry seeming good's
A certain evil, where not to be ev'n jump
As they are, here were to be strangers, and
Such things to be meer Monsters.
_Pal._ 'Tis in our power,
(Unless we fear that Apes can Tutor's) to
Be Masters of our manners: what need I
Affect anothers gate, which is not catching
Where there is faith, or to be fond upon
Anothers way of speech, when by mine own
I may be reasonably conceiv'd; sav'd too,
Speaking it truly; why am I bound
By any generous bond to follow him
Follows his Taylor, haply so long, until
The follow'd, make pursuit? or let me know,
Why mine own Barber is unblest, with him
My poor Chinn too, for 'tis not Cizard just
To such a Favorites glass: What Cannon is there
That does command my Rapier from my hip
To dangle't in my hand, or to goe tip toe
Before the street be foul? either I am
The fore-horse in the Team, or I am none
That draw i' th' sequent trace: these poor slight sores,
Need not a Plantain; That which [r]ips my bosome
Almost to th' heart's.
_Arcite._ Our Uncle _Creon_.
_Pal._ He,
A most unbounded Tyrant, whose successes
Makes Heaven unfear'd, and villany assured
Beyond its power: there's nothing, almost puts
Faith in a Feavor, and deifies alone
Voluble chance, who only attributes
The faculties of other Instruments
To his own Nerves and act; Commands men service,
And what they win in't, boot and glory on;
That fears not to [do] harm; good, dares not; Let
The bloud of mine that's sibbe to him, be suckt
From me with Leeches, let them break and fall
Off me with that corruption.
_Arc._ Clear spirited Cosin
Let's leave his Court, that we may nothing share,
Of his loud infamy: for our milk,
Will relish of the pasture, and we must
Be vile, or disobedient, not his kinsmen
In blood, unless in quality.
_Pal._ Nothing truer:
I think the ecchoes of his shames have deaf't
The ears of heav'nly Justice: widdows cries
Descend again into their throats, and have not
Due audience of the gods: _Valerius_.
_Enter_ Valerius.
_Val._ The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footed
Till his great rage be off him. _Phebus_ when
He broke his whipstock, and exclaim'd against
The Horses of the Sun, but whisper'd to
The loudness of his fury.
_Pal._ Small winds shake him,
But what's the matter?
_Val. Theseus_ (who where he threats appals,) hath sent
Deadly defiance to him, and pronounces
Ruin to _Thebs_, who is at hand to seal
The promise of his wrath.
_Arc._ Let him approach:
But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not
A jot of terror to us; yet what man
Thirds his own worth (the case is each of ours)
When that his actions dregg'd, with mind assur'd
'Tis bad he goes about.
_Pal._ Leave that unreason'd.
Our services stand now for _Thebs_, not _Creon_,
Yet to be neutral to him, were dishonor;
Rebellious to oppose: therefore we must
With him stand to the mercy of our Fate,
Who hath bounded our last minute.
_Arc._ So we must;
Ist sed this wars afoot? or it shall be
On fail of some condition.
_Val._ 'Tis in motion
The intelligence of state came in the instant
With the defier.
_P[a]l._ Let's to the King, who, were he
A quarter carrier of that honor, which
His enemy came in, the bloud we venture
Should be as for our health, which were not spent,
Rather laid out for purchase: but alas
Our hands advanc'd before our hearts, what will
The fall o' th' stroke do damage?
_Arci._ Let th' event,
That never-erring Arbitrator, tell us
When we know all our selves, and let us follow
The becking of our chance. [_Exeunt._
_Scena Tertia._
_Enter_ Perithous, Hippolita, Emilia.
_Pir._ No further.
_Hip._ Sir farewel; repeat my wishes
To our great Lord, of whose success I dare not
Make any timerous question; yet I wish him
Excess, and overflow of power, and't might be
To dure ill-dealing fortune; speed to him,
Store never hurts good Governors.
_Pir._ Though I know
His Ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they
Must yield their tribute there: My precious Maid,
Those best affections that the heavens infuse
In their best temper'd pieces, keep enthron'd
In your dear heart.
_Emil._ Thanks Sir; remember me
To our all-Royal Brother, for whose speed
The great _Bellona_ I'll solicite; and
Since in our terrene State, petitions are not
Without gifts understood: I'll offer to her
What I shall be advis'd she likes; our hearts
Are in his Army, in his Tent.
_Hip._ In's bosom:
We have been Soldiers, and we cannot weep
When our Friends do'n their helms, or put to Sea,
Or tell of Babes broach'd on the Launce, or Women
That have sod their Infants in (and after eat them)
The brine, they wept at killing 'em; Then if
You stay to see of us such Spinsters, we
Should hold you here for ever.
_Pir._ Peace be to you
As I pursue this war, which shall be then
Beyond further requiring. [_Exit_ Pir.
_Emil._ How his longing
Follows his friend; since his depart, his sports
Though craving seriousness, and skill, past slightly
His careless execution, where nor gain
Made him regard, or loss consider, but
Playing o'er business in his hand, another
Directing in his head, his mind, nurse equal
To these so diff'ring Twins; have you observ'd him,
Since our great Lord departed?
_Hip._ With much labour:
And I did love him for't, they two have Cabin'd
In many as dangerous, as poor a corner,
Peril and want contending, they have skift
Torrents, whose roaring tyranny and power
I'th' least of these was dreadful, and they have
Fought out together, where Death's-self was lodg'd,
Yet Fate hath brought them off: their knot of love
Ti'd, weav'd, intangl'd, with so true, so long,
And with a finger of so deep a cunning
May be out-worn, never undone. I think
_Theseus_ cannot be umpire to himself
Cleaving his conscience into twain, and doing
Each side like Justice, which he loves best.
_Emil._ Doubtless
There is a best, and reason has no manners
To say it is not you: I was acquainted
Once with a time, when I enjoy'd a Play-fellow;
You were at wars, when she the grave enrich'd,
Who made too proud the Bed, took leave o' th' Moon
(Which then lookt pale at parting) when our count
Was each eleven.
_Hip._ 'Twas _Flavia_.
[_Two Hearses ready with_ Palamon, _and_ Arcite:
_The three Queens_. Theseus, _and his Lords ready_.
_Emil._ Yes,
You talk of _Pirithous_ and _Theseus_ love;
Theirs has more ground, is more maturely season'd,
More buckled with strong judgement, and their needs
The one of th' other may be said to water
Their intertangled roots of love, but I
And she (I sigh and spoke of) were things innocent,
Lov'd for we did, and like the Elements
That know not what, nor why, yet do effect
Rare issues by their operance; our souls
Did so to one another; what she lik'd,
Was then of me approv'd, what not condemn'd
No more arraignment, the flower that I would pluck
And put between my breasts, oh (then but beginning
To swell about the blossom) she would long
Till she had such another, and commit it
To the like innocent Cradle, where _Phenix_-like
They di'd in perfume: on my head no toy
But was her pattern, her affections pretty
Though happily, her careless, were, I followed
For my most serious decking, had mine ear
Stol'n some new air, or at adventure humm'd on
From musical Coynage, why, it was a Note
Whereon her spirits would sojourn (rather dwell on)
And sing it in her slumbers; This rehearsal
(Which fury innocent wots well) comes in
Like old importments-bastard, has this end;
That the true love 'tween Maid, and Maid, may be
More than in sex individual.
_Hip._ Y'are out of breath
And this high speeded-pace, is but to say
That you shall never (like the Maid _Flavina_)
Love any that's call'd Man.
_Emil._ I'm sure I shall not.
_Hip._ Now alack weak Sister,
I must no more believe thee in this point
(Though in't I know thou dost believe thy self)
Then I will trust a sickly appetite,
That loaths even as it longs, but sure my Sister
If I were ripe for your perswasion, you
Have said enough to shake me from the Arm
Of the all noble _Theseus_, for whose fortunes,
I will now in, and kneel with great assurance,
That we, more than his _Pirathous_, possess
The high Throne in his heart.
_E[m]il._ I am not against your faith,
Yet I continue mine. [_Exeunt Cornets._
_Scena Quarta._
_A Battel struck within: then a Retreat: Florish. Then Enter_
Theseus _(victor) the three Queens meet him, and fall on their_
_faces before him_.
_1 Qu._ To thee no Star be dark.
_2 Qu._ Both Heaven and Earth
Friend thee for ever.
_3 Qu._ All the good that may
Be wish'd upon thy head, I cry _Amen_ to't.
_Thes._ Th'impartial gods, who from the mounted heavens
View us their mortal Herd, behold who erre,
And in their time chastise: goe and find out
The bones of your dead Lords, and honor them
With treble ceremony, rather than a gap
Should be in their dear rights, we would supply't.
But those we will depute, which shall invest
You in your dignities, and even each thing
Our haste does leave imperfect; So adieu
And heavens good eyes look on you, what are those? [_Exeunt_ Queens.
_Herald._ Men of great quality, as may be judg'd
By their appointment; some of _Thebs_ have told's
They are Sisters children, Nephews to the King.
_Thes._ By th' Helme of _Mars_, I saw them in the War,
Like to a pair of Lions, smear'd with prey,
Make lanes in troops agast. I fixt my note
Constantly on them; for they were a mark
Worth a god's view: what prisoner was't that told me
When I enquir'd their names?
_Herald._ We leave, they'r called
_Arcite_ and _Palamon_.
_Thes._ 'Tis right, those, those
They are not dead? [_Three Hearses ready._
_Her._ Nor in a state of life, had they been taken
When their last hurts were given, 'twas possible
They might have been recover'd; Yet they breathe
And have the name of men.
_Thes._ Then like men use 'em
The very lees of such (millions of rates)
Exceed the Wine of others, all our Surgeons
Convent in their behoof, our richest balmes
Rather than niggard waste, their lives concern us,
Much more than _Thebs_ is worth, rather than have 'em
Freed of this plight, and in their morning state
(Sound and at liberty) I would 'em dead,
But forty thousand fold, we had rather have 'em
Prisoners to us, than death; bear 'em speedily
From our kind air, to them unkind, and minister
What man to man may do for our sake more,
Since I have known frights, fury, friends, beheasts,
Loves, provocations, zeal, a Mistriss taske,
Desire of liberty, a feavor, madness,
Hath set a mark which nature could not reach too
Without some imposition, sickness in Will
Or wrestling strength in reason, for our Love
And great _Apollos_ mercy, all our best,
Their best [skill] tender. Lead into the City,
Where having bound things scatter'd, we will post. _Florish._
To _Athens_ for o[u]r Army. [_Exeunt. Musick._
_Scena Quinta._
_Enter the Queens, with the Hearses of their Knights,_
_in a Funeral Solemnity_, &c.
_Urns and Odours, bring away,_
_Vapors, sighs, darken the day;_
_Our dole more deadly looks, than dying_
_Balmes, and Gumms, and heavy cheers,_
_Sacred vi[a]ls fill'd with tears,_
_And clamors, through the wild air flying_:
_Come all sad and solemn Shows,_
_That are quick-ey'd pleasures foes;_
_We convent nought else but woes._
_We convent_, &c.
_3 Qu._ This funeral path, brings to your houshold[s] grave[:]
Joy seize on you again: peace, sleep with him.
_2 Qu._ And this to yours.
_1 Qu._ Yours this way: Heavens lend
A thousand differing ways to one sure end.
_3 Qu._ This world's a City full of straying streets,
And Death's the Market-place, where each one meets.
[_Exeunt severally._
_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter Jaylor and Wooer._
_Jail._ I may depart with little, while I live, something I
May cast to you, not much: Alas the Prison I
Keep, though it be for great ones, yet they seldom
Come; before one _Salmon_, you shall take a number
Of Minnows: I am given out to be better lin'd
Than it can appear, to me report is a true
Speaker: I would I were really, that I am
Deliver'd to be: Marry, what I have (be it what
It will) I will assure upon my daughter at
The day of my death.
_Wooer._ Sir, I demand no more than your own offer,
And I will estate your Daughter, in what I
Have promised.
_Jail._ Well, we will talk more of this, when the solemnity
Is past; But have you a full promise of her?
_Enter Daughter._
When that shall be seen, I tender my consent.
_Wooer._ I have Sir; here she comes.
_Jail._ Your friend and I have chanced to name
You here, upon the old business: but no more of that.
Now, so soon as the Court-hurry is over, we will
Have an end of it: I' th' mean time look tenderly
To the two prisoners. I can tell you they are Princes.
_Daugh._ These strewings are for their Chamber; 'tis pity they
Are in prison, and 'twere pity they should be out: I
Do think they have patience to make any adversity
Asham'd; the prison it self is proud of 'em; and
They have all the world in their Chamber.
_Jail._ They are fam'd to be a pair of absolute men.
_Daugh._ By my troth, I think Fame but stammers 'em, they
Stand a grief above the reach of report.
_Jail._ I heard them reported in the battel, to be the only doers.
_Daugh._ Nay, most likely, for they are noble sufferers; I
Marvel how they would have look'd, had they been
Victors, that with such a constant Nobility, enforce
A freedom out of bondage, making misery their
Mirth, and affliction a toy to jest at.
_Jail._ Doe they so?
_Daugh._ It seems to me, they have no more sence of their
Captivity, than I of ruling _Athens_: they eat
Well, look merrily, discourse of many things,
But nothing of their own restraint, and disasters:
Yet sometime a divided sigh, martyr'd as 'twere
I' th' deliverance, will break from one of them,
When the other presently gives it so sweet a rebuke,
That I could wish my self a sigh to be so chid,
Or at least a sigher to be comforted.
_Wooer._ I never saw 'em.
_Jail._ The Duke himself came privately in the night.
_Enter_ Palamon, _and_ Arcite _above_.
And so did they, what the reason of it is, I
Know not: Look, yonder they are; that's
_Arcite_ looks out.
_Daugh._ No Sir, no, that's _Palamon_: _Arcite_ is the
Lower of the twain; you may perceive a part
Of him.
_Jail._ Go to, leave your pointing; they would not
Make us their object; out of their sight.
_Daugh._ It is a holliday to look on them: Lord, the
Difference of men. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Palamon, _and_ Arcite _in prison_.
_Pal._ How do you, Noble Cosin?
_Arcite._ How do you, Sir?
_Pal._ Why, strong enough to laugh at misery,
And bear the chance of war yet, we are prisoners
I fear for ever Cosin.
_Arcite._ I believe it,
And to that destiny have patiently
Laid up my hour to come.
_Pal._ Oh Cosin _Arcite_,
Where is _Thebs_ now? where is our noble Countrey?
Where are our friends, and kindreds? never more
Must we behold those comforts, never see
The hardy youths strive for the Games of honor
(Hung with the painted favours of their Ladies)
Like tall Ships under Sail: then start amongst 'em
And as an Eastwind leave 'em all behind us,
Like lazy Clouds, whilst _Palamon_ and _Arcite_,
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg
Out-stript the peoples praises, won the Garlands,
E'r they have time to wish 'em ours. Oh never
Shall we two exercise, like twins of honor,
Our Arms again, and feel our fiery horses,
Like proud Seas under us, our good Swords, now
(Better the red-ey'd god of War nev'r were)
Bravish'd our sides, like age, must run to rust,
And deck the Temples of those gods that hate us,
These hands shall never draw 'em out like light'ning
To blast whole Armies more.
_Arcite._ No _Palamon_,
Those hopes are prisoners with us, here we are
And here the graces of our youths must wither
Like a too-timely Spring; here age must find us,
And which is heaviest (_Palamon_) unmarried,
The sweet embraces of a loving wife
Loaden with kisses, arm'd with thousand _Cupids_
Shall never claspe our necks, no issue know us,
No figures of our selves shall we ev'r see,
To glad our age, and like young Eagles teach 'em
Boldly to gaze against bright arms, and say
Remember what your Fathers were, and conquer.
The fair-ey'd Maids, shall weep our banishments,
And in their Songs, curse ever-blinded fortune
Till she for shame see what a wrong she has done
To youth and nature; This is all our world;
We shall know nothing here, but one another,
Hear nothing, but the clock that tels our woes.
The Vine shall grow, but we shall never see it:
Summer shall come, and with her all delights;
But dead-cold winter must inhabit here still.
_Pal._ 'Tis too true _Arcite_. To our Theban hounds,
That shook the aged Forrest with their ecchoes,
No more now must we hollo, no more shake
Our pointed Javelins, whilst the angry Swine
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
Struck with our well-steel'd Darts: All valiant uses,
(The food and nourishment of noble minds,)
In us two here shall perish; we shall die
(Which is the curse of honor) lastly,
Children of grief, and Ignorance.
_Arc._ Yet Cosin,
Even from the bottom of these miseries
From all that fortune can inflict upon us,
I see two comforts rising, two meer blessings,
If the gods please, to hold here a brave patience,
And the enjoying of our griefs together.
Whilst _Palamon_ is with me, let me perish
If I think this our prison.
_Pala._ Certainly,
'Tis a main goodness, Cosin, that our fortunes
Were twin'd together; 'tis most true, two souls
Put in two noble bodies, let 'em suffer
The gaul of hazard, so they grow together,
Will never sink, they must not, say they could,
A willing man dies sleeping, and all's done.
_Arc._ Shall we make worthy uses of this place
That all men hate so much?
_Pal._ How gentle Cosin?
_Arc._ Let's think this prison, Holy Sanctuary,
To keep us from corruption of worse men,
We are young, and yet desire the wayes of honour,
That liberty and common conversation,
The poison of pure spirits, might, like women,
Wooe us to wander from. What worthy blessing
Can be but our imaginations
May make it ours? And here being thus together,
We are an endless mine to one another;
We are one anothers Wife, ever begetting
New births of love; we are Father, Friends, Acquaintance,
We are, in one another, Families,
I am your Heir, and you are mine: This place
Is our Inheritance: no hard oppressor
Dare take this from us; here with a little patience
We shall live long, and loving: No surfeits seek us:
The hand of War hurts none here, nor the Seas
Swallow their youth: were we at liberty,
A Wife might part us lawfully, or business,
Quarrels consume us: Envy of ill men
Crave our acquaintance, I might sicken Cosin,
Where you should never know it, and so perish
Without your noble hand to close mine eyes,
Or prayers to the gods; a thousand chances
Were we from hence, would sever us.
_Pal._ You have made me
(I thank you Cosin _Arcite_) almost wanton
With my Captivity: what a misery
It is to live abroad! and every where:
'Tis like a Beast me thinks: I find the Court here,
I 'm sure a more content, and all those pleasures
That wooe the Wills of men to vanity,
I see through now; and am sufficient
To tell the world, 'tis but a gaudy shadow,
That old Time, as he passes by, takes with him,
What had we been old in the Court of _Creon_,
Where sin is Justice, Lust, and Ignorance,
The virtues of the great ones: Cosin _Arcite_
Had not the loving gods found this place for us
We had di'd as they doe, ill old men unwept,
And had their Epitaphs, the peoples Curses,
Shall I say more?
_Arc._ I would hear you still.
_Pal._ Ye shall.
Is there record of any two that lov'd
Better than we two _Arcite_?
_Arc._ Sure there cannot.
_Pal._ I doe not think it possible our friendship
Should ever leave us.
_Arc._ Till our deaths it cannot.
_Enter_ Emilia _and her Woman_.
And after death our spirits shall be led
To those that love eternally. Speak on Sir.
This Garden has a world of pleasures in't.
_Emil._ What Flower is this?
_Wom._ 'Tis call'd _Narcissus_, Madam.
_Emil._ That was a fair Boy certain, but a fool,
To love himself, were there not Maids enough?
_Arc._ Pray forward.
_Pal._ Yes.
_Emil._ Or were they all hard-hearted?
_Wom._ They could not be to one so fair.
_Emil._ Thou wouldst not.
_Wom._ I think I should not, Madam.
_Emil._ That's a good wench:
But take heed to your kindness though.
_Wom._ Why Madam?
_Emil._ Men are mad things.
_Arcite._ Will ye go forward, Cosin?
_Emil._ Canst not thou work such Flowers in Silk wench?
_Wom._ Yes.
_Emil._ I'll have a Gown full of 'em, and of these,
This is a pretty colour, wil't not do
Rarely upon a skirt wench?
_Wom._ Dainty Madam.
_Arc._ Cosin, Cosin, how do you, Sir? Why _Palamon_?
_Pal._ Never till now, I was in prison _Arcite_.
_Arc._ Why, what's the matter man?
_Pal._ Behold, and wonder.
By heaven she is a Goddess.
_Arcite._ Ha.
_Pal._ Do reverence.
She is a Goddess _Arcite_.
_Emil._ Of all Flowers,
Methinks a Rose is best.
_Wom._ Why gentle Madam?
_Emil._ It is the very Emblem of a Maid.
For when the West wind courts her gently
How modestly she blows, and paints the Sun,
With her chaste blushes! When the North comes near her,
Rude and impatient, then like Chastity
She locks her beauties in her bud again,
And leaves him to base briers.
_Wom._ Yet good Madam,
Sometimes her modesty will blow so far
She falls for't: a Maid
If she have any honor, would be loth
To take example by her.
_Emil._ Thou art wanton.
_Arc._ She is wondrous fair.
_Pal._ She is all the beauty extant.
_Emil._ The Sun grows high, let's walk in, keep these flowers,
We'll see how near Art can come near their colours;
I'm wondrous merry-hearted, I could laugh now.
_Wom._ I could lie down I am sure.
_Emil._ And take one with you?
_Wom._ That's as we bargain, Madam.
_Emil._ Well, agree then. [_Exeunt_ Emilia _and Woman_.
_Pal._ What think you of this beauty?
_Arc._ 'Tis a rare one.
_Pal._ Is't but a rare one?
_Arc._ Yes, a matchless beauty.
_Pal._ Might not a man well lose himself, and love her?
_Arc._ I cannot tell what you have done, I have,
Beshrew mine eyes for't, now I feel my Shackles.
_Pal._ You love her then?
_Arc._ Who would not?
_Pal._ And desire her?
_Arc._ Before my liberty.
_Pal._ I saw her first.
_Arc._ That's nothing.
_Pal._ But it shall be.
_Arc._ I saw her too.
_Pal._ Yes, but you must not love her.
_Arc._ I will not as you do; to worship her;
As she is heavenly, and a blessed goddess;
(I love her as a woman, to enjoy her)
So both may love.
_Pal._ You shall not love at all.
_Arc._ Not love at all;
Who shall denie me?
_Pal._ I that first saw her; I that took possession
First with mine eye of all those beauties
In her reveal'd to mankind: if thou lov'st her;
Or entertain'st a hope to blast my wishes,
Thou art a Traitor _Arcite_, and a fellow
False as thy Title to her: friendship, bloud
And all the ties between us I disclai[m]
If thou once think upon her.
_Arc._ Yes, I love her,
And if the lives of all my name lay on it,
I must do so, I love her with my soul,
If that will lose ye, farewel _Palamon_.
I say again, I love, and in loving her, maintain
I am as worthy and as free a Lover
And have as just a title to her beauty
As any _Palamon_, or any living
That is a mans Son.
_Pal._ Have I call'd thee friend?
_Arc._ Yes, and have found me so; why are you mov'd thus?
Let me deal coldly with you, am not I
Part of your blood, part of your soul? you have told me
That I was _Palamon_, and you were _Arcite_.
_Pal._ Yes.
_Arc._ Am not I liable to those affections,
Those joyes, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall suffer?
_Pal._ Ye may be.
_Arc._ Why then would you deal so cunningly,
So strangely, so unlike a Noble Kinsman
To love alone? speak truly, do you think me
Unworthy of her sight?
_Pal._ No, but unjust,
If thou pursue that [si]ght.
_Arc._ Because another
First sees the Enemy, shall I stand still
And let mine honor down, and never charge?
_Pal._ Yes, if he be but one.
_Arc._ But say that one
Had rather combat me?
_Pal._ Let that one say so,
And use thy freedom: else if thou pursuest her,
Be as that cursed man that hates his Countrey,
A branded villain.
_Arc._ You are mad.
_Pal._ I must be.
Till thou art worthy, _Arcite_, it concerns me,
And in this madness, if I hazard thee
And take thy life, I deal but truly.
_Arc._ Fie Sir.
You play the child extreamly: I will love her,
I must, I ought to do so, and I dare,
And all this justly.
_Pal._ Oh that now, that now
Thy false-self, and thy friend, had but this fortune
To be one hour at liberty, and graspe
Our good swords in our hands, I would quickly teach thee
What 'twere to filch affection from another:
Thou art baser in it than a Cutpurse;
Put but thy head out of this window more,
And as I have a soul, I'll nail thy life to't.
_Arc._ Thou dar'st not fool, thou canst not, thou art feeble.
Put my head out? I'll throw my Body out,
And leap the Garden, when I see her next.
_Enter Keeper._
And pitch between her Arms to anger thee.
_Pal._ No more; the Keepers coming; I shall live
To knock thy brains out with my Shackles.
_Arc._ Doe.
_Keep._ By your leave, Gentlemen.
_Pala._ Now honest Keeper?
_Keep._ Lord _Arcite_, you must presently to th' Duke;
The cause I know not yet.
_Arc._ I am ready Keeper.
_Keep._ Prince _Palamon_, I must awhile bereave you
Of your fair Cosins company. [_Exeunt_ Arcite, _and Keeper_.
_Pal._ And me too,
Even when you please of life; why is he sent for?
It may be he shall marry her, he's goodly,
And like enough the Duke hath taken notice
Both of his Bloud and Body: but his falshood,
Why should a friend be treacherous? if that
Get him a Wife so noble, and so fair;
Let honest men ne'er love again. Once more
I would but see this fair one: blessed Garden,
And Fruit, and Flowers more blessed that still blossom
As her bright eies shine on ye. Would I were
For all the fortune of my life hereafter
Yon little Tree, yon blooming Apricock;
How I would spread, and fling my wanton arms
In at her window; I would bring her fruit
Fit for the gods to feed on: youth and pleasure
Still as she tasted should be doubled on her,
And if she be not heavenly, I would make her
So near the gods in nature, they should fear her.
_Enter Keeper._
And then I'm sure she would love me: how now Keeper,
Where's _Arcite_?
_Keep._ Banish'd: Prince _Pirithous_
Obtain'd his liberty; but never more
Upon his oath and life must he set foot
Upon this Kingdom.
_Pal._ He's a blessed man,
He shall see _Thebes_ again, and call to Arms
The bold young men, that when he bids 'em charge,
Fall on like fire: _Arcite_ shall have a Fortune,
If he dare make himself a worthy Lover,
Yet in the Field to strike a battel for her;
And if he lose her then, he's a cold Coward;
How bravely may he bear himself to win her
If he be noble _Arcite_; thousand ways.
Were I at liberty, I would do things
Of such a virtuous greatness, that this Lady,
This blushing Virgin should take manhood to her
And seek to ravish me.
_Keep._ My Lord for you
I have this charge too.
_Pal._ To discharge my life.
_Keep._ No, but from this place to remove your Lordship,
The windows are too open.
_Pal._ Devils take 'em
That are so envious to me; prethee kill me.
_Keep._ And hang for't afterward.
_Pal._ By this good light
Had I a sword I would kill thee.
_Keep._ Why my Lord?
_Pal._ Thou bring'st such pelting scurvy news continually
Thou art not worthy life; I will not go.
_Keep._ Indeed you must my Lord.
_Pal._ May I see the Garden?
_Keep._ No.
_Pal._ Then I am resolv'd, I will not go.
_Keep._ I must constrain you then: and, for you are dangerous
I'll clap more irons on you.
_Pal._ Doe good Keeper.
I'll shake 'em so, ye shall not sleep,
I'll make ye a new Morri[ss]e, must I goe?
_Keep._ There is no remedy.
_Pal._ Farewel kind window.
May rude wind never hurt thee. Oh my Lady,
If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was,
Dream how I suffer. Come; now bury me. [_Exeunt_ Palamon _and Keeper_.
_Scæna Tertia._
_Enter_ Arcite.
_Arcite._ Banish'd the Kingdom? 'tis a benefit,
A mercy I must thank 'em for, but banish'd
The free enjoying of that face I die for,
Oh 'twas a studdied punishment, a death
Beyond Imagination: Such a vengeance
That were I old and wicked, all my sins
Could never pluck upon me, _Palamon_;
Thou hast the Start now, thou shalt stay and see
Her bright eyes break each morning 'gainst thy window,
And let in life into thee; Thou shalt feed
Upon the sweetness of a noble beauty,
That nature never exceeded, nor never shall:
Good gods! what happiness has _Palamon_!
Twenty to one, he'll come to speak to her,
And if she be as gentle, as she's fair,
I know she's his, he has a Tongue will tame
Tempests, and make the wild Rocks wanton. Come what can come,
The worst is death; I will not leave the Kingdom,
I know mine own is but a heap of ruins,
And no redress there, if I go, he has her,
I 'm resolv'd an other shape shall make me,
Or end my fortunes. Either way, I' m happy:
I'll see her, and be near her, or no more.
_Enter 4. Country people, & one with a garland before them._
_1._ My Masters, I'll be there that's certain.
_2._ And I'll be there.
_3._ And I.
_4._ Why then have with ye Boys; 'Tis but [a] chiding,
Let the plough play to day, I'll tick['lt] out
Of the jades tails to morrow.
_1._ I 'm sure
To have my wife as jealous as a Turkey:
But that's all one, I'll goe through, let her mumble.
_2._ Clap her aboard to morrow night, and stoa her,
And all's made up again.
_3._ I, do but put a fesku in her fist, and you shall see her
Take a new lesson out, and be a good wench.
Doe we all hold, against the Maying?
_4._ Hold? what should ail us?
_3. Arcas_, will be there.
_2._ And _Sennois_.
And _Rycas_, and 3. Better lads never danc'd under green Tree,
And yet know what wenches: ha?
But will the dainty _Domine_, the Schoolemaster keep touch
Doe you think: For he do's all ye know.
_3._ He'll eat a hornbook ere he fail: goe too, the matter's
too far driven between him, and the Tanners daughter, to let
slip now, and she must see the Duke, and she must dance too.
_4._ Shall we be lusty.
_2._ All the Boys in Athens blow wind i'th' breech on's, and
here I'll be and there I'll be, for our Town, and here again,
and there again: Ha, Boys, heigh for the weavers.
_1._ This must be done i'th woods.
_4._ O pardon me.
_2._ By any means our thing of learning sees so: Where he
himself will edifie the Duke most parlously in our behalfs:
He's excellent i'th' woods, bring him to'th' plains, his
learning makes no cry.
_3._ We'll see the sports, then every man to's Tackle: and
Sweet Companions lets rehearse by any means, before
The Ladies see us, and doe sweetly, and God knows what
May come on't.
_4._ Content; the sports once ended, we'll perform. Away
Boys and hold.
_Arc._ By your leaves honest friends: Pray you w[h]ither goe you.
_4._ Whither? Why, what a question's that!
_Arc._ Yes, 'tis a question, to me that know not.
_3._ To the _Games_, my Friend.
_2._ Where were you bred you know it not?
_Arc._ Not far Sir,
Are there such _Games_, to day?
_1._ Yes marry are there:
And such as you never saw; The _Duke_, himself
Will be in person there.
_Arc._ What pastimes are they?
_2._ Wrastling, and Running; 'Tis a pretty Fellow.
_3._ Thou wilt not goe along.
_Arc._ Not yet Sir.
_4._ Well Sir
Take your own time, come Boys.
_1._ My mind misgives me
This fellow has a veng'ance trick o'th hip,
Marke how his Bodi's made for't.
_2._ I'll be hang'd though
If he dare venture, hang him plumb-porredge,
He wrestle? He rost eggs. Come lets be gon Lads. [_Exeunt 4._
_Arc._ This is an offer'd oportunity
I durst not wish for. Well, I could have wrestled,
The best men call'd it excellent, and run
Swifter, than wind upon a feild of Corn
(Curling the wealthy ears) never flew: I'll venture,
And in some poor disguize be there, who knows
Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands?
And happiness prefer me to a place,
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her. [_Exit Arcite._
_Scæena_ [4].
_Enter Jailors Daughter alone._
_Daugh._ Why should I love this Gentleman? 'Tis odds
He never will affect me; [I am] base,
My Father the mean Keeper of his Prison,
And he a Prince; To marry him is hopeless;
To be his whore, is witles; Out upon't;
What pushes are we wenches driven to
When fifteen once has found us? First I saw him,
I (seeing) thought he was a goodly man;
He has as much to please a woman in him,
(If he please to bestow it so) as ever
These eyes yet lookt on; Next, I pittied him,
And so would any young wench o'my Conscience
That ever dream'd, or vow'd her Maydenhead
To a young hansom Man; Then I lov'd him,
(Extremely lov'd him) infinitely lov'd him;
And yet he had [a] Cosen, fair as he too.
But in my heart was _Palamon_, and there
Lord, what a coyl he keepes! To hear him
Sing in an evening, what a Heaven it is!
And yet his Songs are sad-ones; Fairer spoken,
Was never Gentleman. When I come in
To bring him water in a morning, first
He bows his noble body, then salutes me, thus:
Fair, gentle Mayd, good morrow, may thy goodness,
Get thee a happy husband; Once he kist me,
I lov'd my lips the better ten daies after,
Would he would doe so ev'ry day; He greives much,
And me as much to see his misery:
What should I doe, to make him know I love him,
For I would fain enjoy him? Say I ventur'd
To set him free? What saies the Law then? Thus much
For Law, or kindred: I will doe it,
And this night, or to morrow he shall love me. [_Exit._
[_This short florish of Cornets and Showtes within._
_Scæna_ [5].
_Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Pirithous, Emilia: Arcite_
_with a Garland, &c._
_Thes._ You have done worthily; I have not seen
Since _Hercules_, a man of tougher sinews;
What ere you are, you run the best, and wrestle,
That these times can allow.
_Arcite._ I'm proud to please you.
_Thes._ What Countrie bred you?
_Arcite._ This; But far off, Prince.
_Thes._ Are you a Gentleman?
_Arcite._ My father said so;
And to those gentle uses gave me life.
_Thes._ Are you his heir?
_Arcite._ His youngest Sir.
_Thes._ Your Father
Sure is a happy S[ir]e, then: What proves you?
_Arcite._ A little of all noble Qualities:
I could have kept a Hawk, and well have hollow'd
To a deep crie of Dogs; I dare not praise
My feat in horsemanship: yet they that knew me
Would say it was my best peece: last, and greatest,
I would be thought a Soldier.
_Thes._ You are perfect.
_Pirith._ Upon my soul, a proper man.
_Emilia._ He is so.
_Per._ How doe you like him Ladie?
_Hip._ I admire him,
I have not seen so young a man, so noble
(If he say true,) of his sort.
_Emil._ Believe,
His mother was a wondrous handsome woman,
His face me thinks, goes that way.
_Hip._ But his Body
And firie mind, illustrate a brave Father.
_Per._ Mark how his virtue, like a hidden Sun,
Breaks through his baser garments.
_Hip._ He's well got sure.
_Thes._ What made you seek this place Sir?
_Arc._ Noble _Theseus_.
To purchase name, and doe my ablest service
To such a well-found wonder, as thy worth,
For only in thy Court, of all the world
Dwells fair-ey'd honor.
_Per._ All his words are worthy.
_Thes._ Sir, we are much endebted to your travell,
Nor shall you loose your wish: _Perithous_
Dispose of this faire Gentleman.
_Perith._ Thanks _Theseus_.
What ere you are y'are mine, and I shall give you
To a most noble service, to this Lady,
This bright young Virgin; Pray observe her goodness;
You have honour'd her fair birth-day, with your virtues,
And as your due y'are hers: kiss her fair hand Sir.
_Arc._ Sir, y'are a noble Giver: dearest Beautie,
Thus let me seal my vow'd faith: when your Servant
(Your most unworthie Creature) but offends you,
Command him die, he shall.
_Emil._ That were too cruell.
If you deserve well Sir; I shall soon see't:
Y'are mine, and somewhat better than your ranck I'll use you.
_Per._ I'll see you furnish'd, and because you say
You are a horseman, I must needs intreat you
This after noon to ride, but 'tis a rough one.
_Arc._ I like him better (Prince) I shall not then
Freeze in my Saddle.
_Thes._ Sweet, you must be readie,
And you _Emilia_, and you (Friend) and all
To morrow by the Sun, to doe observance
To flowry May, in _Dian's_ wood: wait well Sir,
Upon your Mistris: _Emely_, I hope
He shall not goe a foot.
_Emil._ That were a shame Sir,
While I have horses: take your choice, and what
You want at any time, let me but know it;
If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you
You'll find a loving Mistris.
_Arc._ If I doe not,
Let me find that my Father ever hated,
Disgrace, and blows.
_Thes._ Go lead the way; You have won it:
It shall be so; You shall receive all dues
Fit for the honor you have won; 'Twere wrong else.
Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a Servant,
That if I were a woman, would be Master,
But you are wise. [_Florish._
_Emil._ I hope too wise for that Sir. [_Exeunt omnes._
_Scæna_ 6.
_Enter Jaylors Daughter alone._
_Daughter._ Let all the Dukes, and all the divells rore,
He is at liberty: I have ventur'd for him:
And out I have brought him to a little wood
A mile hence, I have sent him, where a Cedar,
Higher than all the rest, spreads like a plane
Fast by a Brook, and there he shall keep close,
Till I provide him Fyles, and food; for yet
His yron bracelets are not off. O Love
What a stout hearted child thou art! My Father
Durst better have indur'd cold iron, than done it:
I love him beyond love, and beyond reason,
Or wit, or safetie: I have made him know it
I care not, I am desperate: If the Law
Find me, and then condemne me for't; Some wenches,
Some honest hearted Maids, will sing my Dirge.
And tell to memory, my death was noble,
Dying almost a Martyr: That way he takes,
I purpose is my way too: Sure he cannot
Be so unmanly, as to leave me here,
If he doe, Maids will not so easily
Trust men again: And yet he has not thank'd me
For what I have done: no not so much as kist me,
And that (me thinks) is not so well; Nor scarcely
Could I persuade him to become a Freeman,
He made such scruples of the wrong he did
To me, and to my Father. Yet I hope
When he considers more, this love of mine
Will take more root within him: Let him doe
What he will with me, so he use me kindly,
For use me so he shall, or I'll proclaim him,
And to his face, no man: I'll presently
Provide him necessaries, and pack my cloaths up,
And where there is a path of ground I'll venture
So he be with me; By him, like a shadow
I'll ever dwell; Within this hour the whoobub
Will be all o'er the prison: [I am] then
Kissing the man they look for: Farewell Father,
Get many more such prisoners, and such daughters,
And shortly you may keep your self. Now to him:
[_Cornets in sundry places. Noise and hollowing as people a
Maying._
_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._
_Enter Arcite alone._
_Arcite._ The Duke has lost Hypolita; Each took
A severall land. This is a solemn Right
They owe bloom'd May, and the _Athenians_ pay it
To 'th' heart of Ceremony: O Queen _Emilia_
Fresher than May, sweeter
Then her gold Buttons on the bows, or all
Th'enamell'd knacks o'th' Mead, or garden, ye[a]
(We challenge too) the banck of any Nymph
That makes the stream seem flowers; Thou o Jewell
O'th wood, o'th world, hast likewise blest a pace
With thy sole presence, in thy rumination
That I poor man might eftsoones come betwen
And chop on some cold thought, thrice blessed chance
To drop on such a Mistris, expectation
Most guiltless on't: tell me O Lady Fortune
(Next after _Emely_ my Sovereign) how far
I may be proud. She takes strong note of me,
Hath made me near her; and this beauteous Morn
(The prim'st of all the year) presents me with
A brace of horses, two such Steeds might well
Be by a pair of Kings backt, in a Field
That their crowns titles tried: Alas, alas
Poor Cosen _Palamon_, poor prisoner, thou
So little dream'st upon my fortune, that
Thou thinkst thy self, the happier thing, to be
So near _Emilia_, me thou deem'st at _Thebs_,
And therein wretched, although free; But if
Thou knew'st my Mistris breath'd on me, and that
I ear'd her language, liv'd in her eye; O Coz
What passion would enclose thee.
_Enter Palamon as out of a Bush, with his Shackles:_
_bends his fist at Arcite._
_Palamon._ Traytor kinsman,
Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signs
Of prisonment were off me, and this hand
But owner of a Sword: By all oaths in one
I, and the justice of my love would make thee
A confest Traytor: O thou most perfidious
That ever gently look'd the voydes of honor.
That ev'r bore gentle Token; falsest Cosen
That ever blood made kin, call'st thou her thine?
I'll prove it in my Shackles, with these hands,
Void of appointment, that thou ly'st, and art
A very theef in love, a Chaffy Lord
Nor worth the name of villain: had I a Sword
And these house cloggs away.
_Arc._ Dear Cosin _Palamon_.
_Pal._ Cosoner _Arcite_, give me language, such
As thou hast shew'd me feat.
_Arc._ Not finding in
The circuit of my breast, any gross stuff
To form me like your blazon, holds me to
This gentleness of answer; 'tis your passion
That thus mistakes, the which to you being enemy,
Cannot to me be kind: honor, and honestie
I cherish, and depend on, how so ev'r
You skip them in me, and with them fair Coz
I'll maintain my proceedings; pray be pleas'd
To shew in generous terms, your griefs, since that
Your question's with your equall, who professes
To clear his own way, with the mind and Sword
Of a true Gentleman.
_Pal._ That tho[u] durst _Arcite_.
_Arc._ My Coz, my Coz, you have been well advertis'd
How much I dare, y'ave seen me use my Sword
Against th' advice of fear: sure of another
You would not hear me doubted, but your silence
Should break out, though i'th' Sanctuary.
_Pal._ Sir,
I have seen you move in such a place, which well
Might justifie your manhood, you were call'd
A good knight and a bold; But the whole week's not fair
If any day it rayn: Their valiant temper
Men loose when they encline to trecherie,
And then they fight like coupel'd Beeres, would fly
Were they not ty'd.
_Arc._ Kinsman, you might as well
Speak this, and act it in your Glass, as to
His ear, which now disdains you.
_Pal._ Come up to me,
Quit me of these cold Gyves, give me a Sword
Though it be rustie, and the charity
Of one meal lend me; Come before me then,
A good Sword in thy hand, and doe but say
That _Emily_ is thine, I will forgive
The trespass thou hast done [me, yea] my life
If then thou carry't, and brave souls in shades
That have di'd manly, which will seek of me
Some news from earth, they shall get none but this,
That thou art brave, and noble.
_Arc._ Be content,
Again betake you to your hawthorn house,
With counsel of the night, I will be here
With wholesome viands; these impediments
Will I file off, you shall have garments, and
Perfumes to kill the smell o'th' prison, after
When you shall stretch your self, and say but _Arcite_
[I am] in plight, there shall be at your choice
Both Sword, and Armor.
_Pal._ Oh you heavens, dare any
So noble bear a guilty business! none
But only _Arcite_, therefore none but _Arcite_
In this kind is so bold.
_Arc._ Sweet _Palamon_.
_Pal._ I doe embrace you, and your offer, for
Your offer do't I only, Sir your person
Without hypocrisy I may not wish [_Wind horns of Cornets._
More than my Swords edge ont.
_Arc._ You hear the Horns;
Enter your Musick least this match between's
Be crost e'r met, give me your hand, farewell.
I'll bring you every needfull thing: I pray you
Take comfort and be strong.
_Pal._ Pray hold your promise;
And doe the deed with a bent brow, most certain
You love me not, be rough with me, and pour
This oil o[u]t of your language; by this ayr
I could for each word, give a Cuff: my stomach
Not reconcil'd by reason.
_Arc._ Plainly spoken,
Yet pardon me hard language, when I spur [_Wind horns._
My horse, I chide him not; content, and anger
In me have but one face. Hark Sir, they call
The scatter'd to the Banket; you must guess
I have an office there.
_Pal._ Sir your attendance
Cannot please heaven, and I know your office
Unjustly is atcheiv'd.
_Arc._ If a good title,
I'm persuaded this question sick between's,
By bleeding must be cur'd. I'm a Suitor,
That to your Sword you will bequeath this plea,
And talk of it no more.
_Pal._ But this one word:
You are going now to gaze upon my Mistris,
For note you, mine she is.
_Arc._ Nay then.
_Pal._ Nay pray you,
You talk of feeding me to breed me strength
You are going now to look upon a Sun
That strengthens what it looks on, there
You have a vantage o'er me, but enjoy't till
I may enforce my remedy. Farewell. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter Jaylors daughter alone._
_Daugh._ He has mistook; the Beak I meant, is gone
After his fancy, 'Tis now welnigh morning,
No matter, would it were perpetuall night,
And darkness Lord o'th' world, Hark 'tis a wolf:
In me hath grief slain fear, and but for one thing
I care for nothing, and that's _Palamon_.
I wreak not if the wolves would jaw me, so
He had this Fi[l]e; what if I hollow'd for him?
I cannot hollow: if I whoop'd; what then?
If he not answer'd, I should call a wolf,
And doe him but that service. I have heard
Strange howls this live-long night, why may't not be
They have made prey of him? he has no weapons,
He cannot run, the Jengling of his Gives
Might call fell things to listen, who have in them
A sence to know a man unarm'd, and can
Smell where resistance is. I'll set it down
He's torn to peeces, they howl'd many together
And then they fed on him: So much for that,
Be bold to ring the Bell; How stand I then?
All's char'd when he is gone, No, no I lye,
My Father's to be hang'd for his escape,
My self to beg, if I priz'd life so much
As to deny my act, but that I would not,
Should I try death by dussons: I am mop't,
Food took I non[e] these two daies.
Sipt some water, I have not clos'd mine eyes
Save when my lids scowrd off their bine; alas
Dissolve my life, Let not my sence unsettle
Least I should drown, or stab or hang my self.
O state of Nature, fail together in me,
Since thy best props are warpt: So which way now?
The best way is, the next way to a grave:
Each errant step beside is torment. Loe
The Moon is down, the Cr'ckets chirpe, the Schreich-owl
Calls in the dawn; all offices are done
Save what I fail in: But the point is this
An end, and that is all. [_Exit._
_Scæna Tertia._
_Enter Arcite, with Meat, Wine, and Files._
_Arc._ I should be near the place, hoa. Cosen _Palamon_.
_Enter Palamon._
_Pal. Arcite?_
_Arc._ The same: I have brought you food and files,
Come forth and fear not, here's no _Theseus_.
_Pal._ Nor none so honest _Arcite_.
_Arc._ That's no matter,
We'll argue that hereafter: Come take courage,
You shall not dye thus beastly, here Sir drink:
I know you're faint, then I'll talk further with you.
_Pal. Arcite_, thou mightst now poyson me.
_Arc._ I might.
But I must fear you first: Sit down, and good now
No more of these vain parlies; let us not
Having our ancient reputation with us
Make talk for Fools, and Cowards, To your health. &c.
_Pal._ Doe.
_Arc._ Pray sit dow[n] then, and let me entreat you
By all the honesty and honor in you,
No mention of this woman, 't will disturb us,
We shall have time enough.
_Pal._ Well Sir, I'll pledge you.
_Arc._ Drinke a good hearty draught, it breeds good blood man.
Doe not you feel it thaw you?
_Pal._ Stay, I'll tell you after a draught or two more.
_Arc._ Spare it not, the Duke has more Cuz: Eat now.
_Pal._ Yes.
_Arc._ [I am] glad you have so good a stomach.
_Pal._ [I am] gladder I have so good meat to't.
_Arc._ Is't not mad lodging here in the wild woods Cosen?
_Pal._ Yes, for them that have wild Consciences.
_Arc._ How tasts your victuals? your hunger needs no sawce I see.
_Pal._ Not much.
But if it did, yours is too tart: sweet Cosen: what is this?
_Arc._ Venison.
_Pal._ 'Tis a lusty meat:
Give me more wine; here _Arcite_ to the wenches
We have known in our daies. The Lord Stewards daughter.
Doe you remember her?
_Arc._ After you Cuz.
_Pal._ She lov'd a black-hair'd man.
_Arc._ She did so; well Sir.
_Pal._ And I have heard some call him _Arcite_; an.
_Arc._ Out with't faith.
_Pal._ She met him in an Arbor:
What did she there Cuz? play o'the virginals?
_Arc._ Something she did Sir.
_Pal._ Made her groan a Month for't; or 2. or 3. or 10.
_Arc._ The Marshals Sister,
Had her share too, as I remember Cosen,
Else there be tales abroad, you'll pledge her?
_Pal._ Yes.
_Arc._ A pretty brown wench 'tis: There was a time
When young men went a hunting, and a wood,
And a broad beech: and thereby hangs a tale: heigh ho.
_Pal._ For _Emily_, upon my life, fool
A way with this strain'd mirth; I say again
That sigh was breath'd for _Emily_; base Cosen,
Dar'st thou break first?
_Arc._ You are wide.
_Pal._ By heaven and earth, there's nothing in thee honest.
_Arc._ Then I'll leave you: you are a Beast now:
_Pal._ As thou mak'st me, Traytor.
_Arc._ There's all things needfull, files and shirts, and perfumes.
I'll come again some two hours hence, and bring
That that shall quiet all.
_Pal._ A Sword and Armor.
_Arc._ Fear me not; you are now too fowl; farewell.
Get off your Trinkets, you shall want nought.
_Pal._ Sir ha:
_Arc._ I'll here no more. [_Exit._
_Pal._ If he keep touch, he dies for't. [_Exit._
_Scæna Quarta._
_Enter Jaylors daughter._
_Daugh._ I am very cold, and all the Stars are out too,
The little Stars, and all, that look like aglets:
The Sun has seen my Folly: _Palamon_;
Alas no; he's in heaven; where am I now?
Yonder's the sea, and there's a Ship; how't tumbles
And there's a Rock lies watching under water;
Now, now, it beats upon it; now, now, now,
There's a leak sprung, a sound one, how they cry!
Upon her before the wind, you'll loose all els:
Up with a course or two, and tack about Boys.
Good night, good night, y'are gone; I'm very hungry,
Would I could find a fine Frog; he would tell me
News from all parts o'th' world, then would I make
A Careck of a Cockle-shell, and sayll
By East and North East to the King of _Pigmies_,
For he tels fortunes rarely. Now my Father
Twenty to one is trust up in a trice
To morrow morning, I'll say never a word.
_Sing._
_For I'll cut my green coat, afoot above my knee,_
_And I'll clip my yellow locks; an inch below mine eie._
_hey, nonny, nonny, nonny._
_He's buy me a whit Cut, forth for to ride_
_And I'll goe seek him, throw the world that is so wide._
_hey nonny, nonny, nonny._
O for a prick now like a Nightingale, to put my brest
Against. I shall sleep like a Top else. [_Exit._
_Scæna_ [5].
_Enter a Schoolmaster 4. Countrymen: and Baum._
_2. or 3., with a Taborer._
_Sch._ Fy, fy, what tediosity, & disensanity is here among ye?
have my Rudiments bin labour'd so long with ye? milk'd unto
ye, and, by a figure, even the very plumbroth & marrow of my
understanding laid upon ye? and do you still cry where, and
how, & wherefore? you most course freeze capacities, ye jave
Judgements, have I said thus let be, and there let be, and then
let be, and no man understand me, _prob deum, medius fidius_,
ye are all dunces: For why here stand I. Here the Duke comes,
there are you close in the Thicket; the Duke appears, I meet
him, and unto him I utter learned things, and many figures,
he hears, and nods, and hums, and then cries rare, and I goe
forward, at length I fling my Cap up; mark there; then do you
as once did _Meleager_, and the _Bore_ break comely out before
him: like true lovers, cast your selves in a Body decently, and
sweetly, by a figure trace, and turn Boys.
_1._ And sweetly we will doe it Master _Gerrold_.
_2._ Draw up the Company, Where's the Taboror?
_3._ Why _Timothy_?
_Tab._ Here my mad boys, have at ye.
_Sch._ But I say where's their wom[e]n?
_4._ Here's _Friz_ and _Maudline_.
_2._ And little _Luce_, with the white legs, and bouncing
_Barbary_.
_1._ And freckled _Nel_; that never fail'd her Master.
_Sch._ Where be your Ribands maids? swym with your Bodies
And carry it sweetly, and deliverly
And now and then a favor, and a friske.
_Nel._ Let us alone Sir.
_Sch._ Where's the rest o'th' Musick.
_3._ Dispers'd as you commanded.
_Sch._ Couple then
And see what's wanting; where's the _Bavian_?
My friend, carry your tail without offence
Or scandall to the Ladies; and be sure
You tumble with audacity, and manhood,
And when you bark doe it with judgement.
_Bau._ Yes Sir.
_Sch. Quo usque tandem?_ Here is a woman wanting.
_4._ We may goe whistle: all the fat's i'th' fire.
_Sch._ We have,
As learned Authors utter, wash'd a Tile,
We have been _fatuus_, and labour'd vainly.
_2._ This is that scornfull peece, that scurvy hilding
That gave her promise faithfully, she would be here,
_Cicely_ the Sempsters daughter:
The next gloves that I give her shall be dogs-skin;
Nay and she fail me once, you can tell _Arcas_,
She swore by wine, and bread, she would not break.
_Sch._ An E[e]l and woman,
A learned Poet sayes: unles by'th' tail
And with thy teeth thou hold, will either fail,
In manners this was false position.
_1._ A fire ill take her; do's she flinch now?
_3._ What
Shall we determine Sir?
_Sch._ Nothing,
Our business is become a nullity
Yea, and a woefull, and a pittious nullity.
_4._ Now when the credit of our Town lay on it,
Now to be frampall, now to piss o'th' nettle,
Goe thy ways, I'll remember thee, I'll fit thee.
_Enter Jaylor's daughter._
Daughter,
_The George alow, came from the South, from_
_The coast of Barbary a._
_And there he met with brave gallants of war_
_By one, by two, by three, a._
_Well hail'd, well hail'd, you jolly gallants,_
[Chair and stools out.
_And whither now are you bound a?_
_O let me have your company till come to the sound a._
_There was three fools, fell out about an howlet:_
_The one sed it was an owl_
_The other he sed nay,_
_The third he sed it was a hawk, and her bels were cut away._
_3._ There's a dainty mad woman Mr. comes i'th' Nick, as
mad as a march Hare; If we can get her dance, we are made
again: I warrant her, she'll do the rarest gambols.
_1._ A mad woman? we are made Boys.
_Sch._ And are you mad good woman?
_Daugh._ I would be sorry else,
Give me your hand.
_Sch._ Why?
_Daugh._ I can tell your fortune.
You are a fool: tell ten, I have poz'd him: Buz
Friend you must eat no white bread, if you do
Your teeth will bleed extremely, shall we dance ho?
I know you, y'are a Tinker: Sir, ha Tinker
Stop no more holes, but what you should.
_Sch. Dii boni._ A Tinker Damzell?
_Daug._ Or a Conjurer: raise me a devill now; and let him play.
_Quipassa_, o'th' bels and bones.
_Sch._ Go take her, and fluently persuade her to a peace:
_Et opus exegi, quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignis._
Strike up, and lead her in.
_2._ Come Lass, lets trip it.
_Daugh._ I'll lead. [_Wind Horns._
_3._ Doe, doe.
_Sch._ Persuasively, and cunningly: away boys,
[_Ex. all but Schoolemaster._
I hear the horns: give me some
Meditation, and mark your Cue;
_Pallas_ inspire me.
_Enter Thes. Pir. Hip. Emil. Arcite: and train._
_Thes._ This way the Stag took.
_Sch._ Stay, and edifie.
_Thes._ What have we here?
_Per._ Some Countrey sport, upon my life Sir.
_Thes._ Well Sir, goe forward, we will edifie.
Ladies sit down, we'll stay it.
_Sch._ Thou doughtie Duke all hail: all hail sweet Ladies.
_Thes._ This is a cold beginning.
_Sch._ If you but favor; our Country pastime made is,
We are a few of those collected here
That ruder Tongues distinguish villager,
And to say veritie, and not to fable;
We are a merry rout, or else a rable
Or company, or by a figure, _Chorus_
That for thy dignitie will dance a Morris.
And I that am the rectifier of all
By title Pedagogus, that let fall
The Birch upon the breeches of the small ones,
And humble with a Ferula the tall ones,
Doe here present this Machine, or this frame
And daintie Duke, whose doughtie dismall fame
From _Dis_ to _Dedalus_, from post to pillar
Is blown abroad; help me thy poor well willer,
And with thy twinckling eyes, look right and straight
Upon this mighty Morr--of mickle waight
Is--now comes in, which being glew'd together
Makes Morris, and the cause that we came hither
The body of our sport of no small study
I first appear, though rude, and raw, and muddy,
To speak before thy noble grace, this tenner:
At whose great feet I offer up my penner.
The next the Lord of May, and Lady bright,
The Chambermaid, and Servingman by night
That seek out silent hanging: Then mine Host
And his fat Spouse, that welcomes to their cost
The gauled Traveller, and with a beck'ning
Informes the Tapster to inflame the reck'ning:
Then the beast eating Clown, and next the fool,
The _Bavian_, with long tail, and eke long tool
_Cum multis aliis_, that make a dance,
Say I, and all shall presently advance.
_Thes._ I, I by any means, dear _Domine_.
_Per._ Produce. [_Musick Dance._
_Intrate filii_, Come forth, and foot it.
Knock for Schoolm. Enter The Dance.
_Ladies, if we have been merry_
_And have pleas'd thee with a derry,_
_And a derry, and a down_
_Say the Schoolmaster's no Clown._
_Duke, if we have pleas'd thee too_
_And have done as good Boys should doe_
_Give us but a tree or twaine_
_For a Maypole, and again_
_Ere another year run out_
_We'll make thee laugh and all this rout._
_Thes._ Take 20. _Domine_; how does my sweet heart?
_Hip._ Never so pleas'd Sir.
_Emil._ 'Twas an excellent dance, and for a preface
I never heard a better.
_Thes._ Schoolmaster, I thank you, One see'em all rewarded.
_Per._ And heer's something to paint your Pole withall.
_Thes._ Now to our sports again.
_Sch._ May the Stag thou huntst stand long,
And thy dogs be swift and strong:
May they kill him without lets,
And the Ladies eat his dowsets: Come we are all made. [_Wind Horns._
_Dii Deæq_; _Omnes_, ye have danc'd rarely wenches. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna_ [6].
_Enter Palamon from the Bush._
_Pal._ About this hour my Cosen gave his faith
To visit me again, and with him bring
Two Swords, and two good Armors; If he fail
He's neither man, nor Soldier; When he left me
I did not think a week could have restor'd
My lost strength to me, I was grown so low,
And Crest-fal'n with my wants: I thank thee _Arcite_,
Thou art yet a fair Foe; And I feel my self
With this refreshing, able once again
To out-dure danger: To delay it longer
Would make the world think when it comes to hearing,
That I lay fatting like a Swine, to fight
And not a Soldier: Therefore this blest morning
Shall be the last; And that Sword he refuses,
If it but hold, I kill him with; 'tis Justice:
So love, and Fortune for me: O good morrow.
_Enter Arcite with Armors and Swords._
_Arc._ Good morrow noble kinsman.
_Pal._ I have put you
To too much pains Sir.
_Arc._ That too much fair Cosen,
Is but a debt to honor, and my duty.
_Pal._ Would you were so in all Sir; I could wish ye
As kind a kinsman, as you force me find
A beneficiall foe, that my embraces
Might thank ye, not my blows.
_Arc._ I shall think either
Well done, a noble recompence.
_Pal._ Then I shall quit you.
_Arc._ Defy me in these fair terms, and you show
More than a Mistris to me, no more anger
As you love any thing that's honorable:
We were not bred to talk man, when we are arm'd
And both upon our guards, then let our fury
Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us,
And then to whom the birthright of this Beauty
Truely pertains (without obbraidings, scorns,
Dispisings of our persons, and such powtings
Fitter for Girles and Schooleboyes) will be seen
And quickly, yours, or mine: Wilt please you arme Sir?
Or if you feel your self not fitting yet
And furnish'd with your old strength, I'll stay Cosen
And ev'ry day discourse you into health,
As I'm spar'd, your person I 'm friends with
And I could wish I had not said I lov'd her
Though I had [dide]; But loving such a Lady
And justifying my Love, I must not fly from't.
_Pal. Arcite_, thou art so brave an enemy
That no man but thy Cosen's fit to kill thee,
I'm well, and lusty, choose your Armes.
_Arc._ Choose you Sir.
_Pal._ Wilt thou exceed in all, or do'st thou doe it
To make me spare thee?
_Arc._ If you think so Cosen,
You are deceiv'd, for as I 'm a Soldier,
I will not spare you.
_Pal._ That's well said.
_Arc._ You'll find it.
_Pal._ Then as [I am] an honest man and love,
With all the justice of affection
I'll pay thee soundly: This I'll take.
_Arc._ That's mine then,
I'll arme you first.
_Pal._ Do: Pray thee tell me Cosen,
Where gotst thou this good Armor?
_Arc._ 'Tis the Dukes,
And to say true, I stole it, doe I pinch you?
_Pal._ No.
_Arc._ Is't not too heavie?
_Pal._ I have worn a lighter,
But I shall make it serve.
_Arc._ I'll buckl't close.
_Pal._ By any means.
_Arc._ You care not for a Grand guard?
_Pal._ No, no, we'll use no horses, I perceive
You would fain be at that Fight.
_Arc._ I'm indifferent.
_Pal._ Faith so am I: Good Cosen, thrust the buckle
Through far enough.
_Arc._ I warrant you.
_Pal._ My Cask now.
_Arc._ Will you fight bare-arm'd?
_Pal._ We shall be the nimbler.
_Arc._ But use your Gantlets though; those are o'th' least,
Prethee take mine good Cosen.
_Pal._ Thank you _Arcite_.
How doe I look, am I falen much away?
_Arc._ Faith very little; Love has us'd you kindly.
_Pal._ I'll warrant thee, I'll strike home.
_Arc._ Doe, and spare not;
I'll give you cause sweet Cosen.
_Pal._ Now to you Sir,
Me thinks this Armor's very like that, _Arcite_,
Thou wor'st that day the 3. Kings fell, but lighter.
_Arc._ That was a very good one, and that day
I well remember, you out-did me Cosen,
I never saw such valour: When you charg'd
Upon the left wing of the Enemie,
I spur'd hard to come up, and under me
I had a right good horse.
_Pal._ You had indeed
A bright Bay I remember.
_Arc._ Yes but all
Was vainly labour'd in me, you out-went me,
Nor could my wishes reach you; Yet a little
I did by imitation.
_Pal._ More by virtue,
Yo[u] are modest Cosen.
_Arc._ When I saw you charge first,
Me thought I heard a dreadfull clap of Thunder
Break from the Troop.
_Pal._ But still before that flew
The lightning of your valour: Stay a litt[l]e,
Is not this peece too streight?
_Arc._ No, no, 'tis well.
_Pal._ I would have nothing hurt thee but my Sword,
A bruise would be dishonor.
_Arc._ Now I'm perfect.
_Pal._ Stand off then.
_Arc._ Take my Sword, I hold it better.
_Pal._ I thank ye: No, keep it, your life lyes on it,
Here's one, if it but hold, I aske no more,
For all my hopes: My Cause and honor guard me.
[_They bow severall wayes: then advance and stand._
_Arc._ And me my love: Is there ought else to say?
_Pal._ This only, and no more: Thou art mine Aunts Son.
And that blood we desire to shed is mutuall.
In me, thine, and in thee, mine: My Sword
Is in my hand, and if thou killst me
The gods, and I forgive thee; If there be
A place prepar'd for those that sleep in honor,
I wish his wearie soul, that falls may win it:
Fight bravely Cosen, give me thy noble hand.
_Arc._ Here _Palamon_: This hand shall never more
Come near thee with such friendship.
_Pal._ I commend thee.
_Arc._ If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward,
For none but such, dare die in these just Tryalls.
Once more farewell my Cosen.
_Pal._ Farewell _Arcite_. [_Fight._ [_Horns within: they stand._
_Arc._ Loe Cosen, loe, our Folly has undone us.
_Pal._ Why?
_Arc._ This is the Duke, a hunting as I told you,
If we be found, we're wretched, O retire
For honors sake, and safely presently
Into your Bush agen; Sir we shall find
Too many hours to dye in, gentle Cosen:
If you be seen you perish instantly
For breaking prison, and I, if you reveal me,
For my contempt; Then all the world will scorn us,
And say we had a noble difference,
But base disposers of it.
_Pal._ No, no, Cosen
I will no more be hidden, nor put off
This great adventure to a second Tryall
I know your cunning, and I know your cause,
He that faints now, shame take him, put thy self
Upon thy present guard.
_Arc._ You are not mad?
_Pal._ Or I will make th'advantage of this hour
Mine own, and what to come shall threaten me,
I fear less then my fortune: Know weak Cosen
I love _Emilia_, and in that I'll bury
Thee, and all crosses else.
_Arc._ Then come, what can come
Thou shalt know _Palamon_, I dare as well
Die, as discourse, or sleep: Only this fears me,
The law will have the honor of our ends,
Have at thy life.
_Pal._ Look to thine own well _Arcite_. [_Fight again. Horns._
_Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Emilia, Perithous and train._
_Theseus._ What ignorant and mad malicious Traitors,
Are you? That 'gainst the tenor of my Laws
Are making Battail, thus like Knights appointed,
Without my leave, and Officers of Armes?
By _Castor_ both shall dye.
_Pal._ Hold thy word _Theseus_,
We are certainly both Traitors, both despisers
Of thee, and of thy goodness: I'm _Palamon_
That cannot love thee, he that broke thy Prison,
Think well, what that deserves; And this is _Arcite_
A bolder Traytor never trod thy ground,
A Falser never seem'd friend: This is the man
Was beg'd and banish'd, this is he contemnes thee
And what thou dar'st doe; and in this disguise
Against this own Edict follows thy Sister,
That fortunate bright Star, the fair _Emilia_
Whose servant, (if there be a right in seeing,
And first bequeathing of the soul to) justly
[I am], and which is more, dares think her his.
This treacherie like a most trusty Lover,
I call'd him now to answer; If thou be'st
As thou art spoken, great and virtuous,
The true decider of all injuries,
Say, Fight again, and thou shalt see me _Theseus_
Doe such a Justice, thou thy self wilt envie
Then take my life, I'll wooe thee to't.
_Per._ O Heaven,
What more than man is this!
_Thes._ I have sworn.
_Arc._ We seek not
Thy breath of mercy _Theseus_, 'Tis to me
A thing as soon to dye, as thee to say it,
And no more mov'd: where this man calls me Traitor,
Let me say thus much; If in love be Treason,
In service of so excellent a Beautie,
As I love most, and in that faith will perish,
As I have brought my life here to confirme it,
As I have serv'd her truest, worthiest,
As I dare kill this Cosen, that denies it,
So let me be most Traitor, and ye please me:
For scorning thy Edict Duke, aske that Lady
Why she is fair, and why her eyes command me
Stay here to love her. And if she say Traytor,
I'm a villain fit to lye unburied.
_Pal._ Thou shalt have pity of us both, O _Theseus_,
If unto neither thou shew mercy, stop
(As thou art just) thy noble ear against us,
As thou art valiant; For thy Cosens soul
Whose 12. strong labors crown his memory,
Let's die together, at one instant, Duke,
Only a little let him fall before me,
That I may tell my Soul he shall not have her.
_Thes._ I grant your wish, for to say true, your Cosen
Has ten times more offended, for I gave him
More mercy than you found, Sir, your offences
Being no more than his: None here speak for 'em
For ere the Sun set, both shall sleep for ever.
_Hippol._ Alas the pity, now or never Sister
Speak not to be denied; That face of yours
Will bear the curses else of after ages
For these lost Cosens.
_Emil._ In my face dear Sister
I find no anger to'em; Nor no ruin,
The misadventure of their own eyes kill'em;
Yet that I will be woman, and have pitty,
My knees shall grow to'th' ground but I'll get mercie.
Help me dear Sister, in a deed so virtuous,
The powers of all women will be with us,
Most royall Brother.
_Hippol._ Sir by our tye of Marriage.
_Emil._ By your own spotless honor.
_Hip._ By that faith,
That fair hand, and that honest heart you gave me.
_Emil._ By that you would have pitty in another,
By your own virtues infinite.
_Hip._ By valor,
By all the chast nights I have ever pleas'd you.
_Thes._ These are strange Conjurings.
_Per._ Nay then I'll in too: By all our friendship Sir, by
all our dangers,
By all you love most, wars; And this sweet Lady.
_Emil._ By that you would have trembled to deny
A blushing Maid.
_Hip._ By your own eyes: By strength
In which you swore I went beyond all women,
Almost all men, and yet I yielded _Theseus_.
_Per._ To crown all this; By your most noble soul
Which cannot want due mercie, I beg first.
_Hip._ Next hear my prayers.
_Emil._ Last let me intreat Sir.
_Per._ For mercy.
_Hip._ Mercy.
_Emil._ Mercy on these Princes.
_Thes._ Ye make my faith reel: Say I felt
Compassion to'em both, how would you place it?
_Emil._ Upon their lives: But with their banishments.
_Thes._ You are a right woman, Sister; You have pitty,
But want the understanding where to use it.
If you desire their lives, invent a way
Safer than banishment: Can these two live
And have the agony of love about 'em,
And not kill one another? Every day
They'ld fight about you; Hourly bring your honor
In publique question with their Swords; Be wise then
And here forget 'em; It concerns your credit,
And my [oth] equally: I have said they die,
Better they fall byth' Law, than one another.
Bow not my honor.
_Emil._ O my noble Brother,
That [oth] was rashly made, and in yo[u]r anger,
Your reason will not hold it, if such vows
Stand for express will, all the world must perish.
Beside, I have another oath, gainst yours
Of more authority, I'm sure more love,
Not made in passion neither, but good heed.
_Thes._ What is it Sister?
_Per._ Urge it home brave Lady.
_Emil._ That you would never deny me any thing
Fit for my modest suit, and your free granting:
I tye you to your word now, if ye fall in't,
Think how you maim your honor;
(For now I'm set a begging Sir, I'm deaf
To all but your compassion) how, their lives
Might breed the ruin of my name; Opinion,
Shall any thing that loves me perish for me?
That were a cruell wisdom, doe men proyn
The straight young Bows that blush with thousand Blossoms
Because they may be rotten? O Duke _Theseus_
The goodly Mothers that have groan'd for these,
And all the longing Maids that ever lov'd,
If your vow stand, shall curse me and my Beauty,
And in their funerall songs, for these two Cosens
Despise my crueltie, and cry woe worth me,
Till I'm nothing but the scorn of women;
For Heavens sake save their lives, and banish 'em.
_Thes._ On what conditions?
_Emil._ Swear'em never more
To make me their Contention, or to know me,
To tread upon the Dukedome, and to be
Where ever they shall travel, ever strangers to one another.
_Pal._ I'll be cut a peeces
Before I take this oath, forget I love her?
O all ye gods dispise me then: Thy Banishment
I not mislike, so we may fairly carry
Our Swords, and cause along: Else never trifle,
But take our lives Duke, I must love and will,
And for that love, must and dare kill this Cosen
On any peece the earth has.
_Thes._ Will you _Arcite_
Take these conditions?
_Pal._ He's a villain then.
_Per._ These are men.
_Arcite._ No, never Duke: 'Tis worse to me than begging
To take my life so basely, though I think
I never shall enjoy her, yet I'll preserve
The honor of affection, and dye for her,
Make death a Devill.
_Thes._ What may be done? For now I feel compassion.
_Per._ Let it not fall again Sir.
_Thes._ Say _Emilia_
If one of them were dead, as one must, are you
Content to take th'other to your husband?
They cannot both enjoy you; They are Princes
As goodly as your own eyes, and as noble
As ever fame yet spoke of: Look upon'em,
And if you can love, end this difference,
I give consent, are you content too, Princes?
_Both._ With all our souls.
_Thes._ He that she refuses
Must dye then.
_Both._ Any death thou canst invent Duke.
_Pal._ If I fall from that mouth, I fall with favor.
And Lovers yet unborn shall bless my ashes.
_Arc._ If she refuse me, yet my grave will wed me,
And Soldiers sing my Epitaph.
_Thes._ Make choice then.
_Emil._ I cannot Sir, they are both too excellent
For me, a hayr shall never fall of these men.
_Hip._ What will become of 'em?
_Thes._ Thus I ordain it,
And by mine honor, once again it stands,
Or both shall dye. You shall both to your Countrey,
And each within this month accompanied
With three fair Knights, appear again in this place,
In which I'll plant a Pyramid; And whether
Before us that are here, can force his Cosen
By fair and knightly strength to touch the Pillar,
He shall enjoy her: The other loose his head,
And all his friends: Nor shall he grudge to fall,
Nor think he dies with interest in this Lady:
Will this content ye?
_Pal._ Yes: Here Cosen _Arcite_
I'm friends again, till that hour.
_Arc._ I embrace ye.
_Thes._ Are you content Sister?
_Emil._ Yes, I must Sir,
[Els] both miscarry.
_Thes._ Come shake hands again then,
And take heed, as you are Gentlemen, this Quarrell
Sleep till the hour p[re]fixt, and hold your course.
_Pal._ We dare not fail thee _Theseus_.
_T[h]es._ Come, I'll give ye
Now usage like to Princes, and to Friends:
When ye return, who wins, I'll settle here,
Who loses, yet I'll weep upon his Beer. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter Jailor and his Friend._
_Jail._ Hear you no more? was nothing said of me
Concerning the escape of _Palamon_?
Good Sir remember.
_1 Fr._ Nothing that I heard,
For I came home before the business
Was fully ended: yet I might perceive
E'r I departed, a great likelyhood
Of both their pardons: for _Hippolita_,
And fair-ey'd _Emilia_, upon their knees,
Begg'd with such handsome pitty, that the Duke
Methought stood staggering whether he should follow
His rash oath, or the sweet compassion
Of those two Ladies; and to second them,
That truly noble Prince _Perithous_
Half his own heart, set in too, that I hope
All shall be well: neither heard I one question
Of your name, or his scape.
_Enter 2 Friends._
_Jail._ Pray Heaven it hold so.
_2 Fr._ Be of good comfort man; I bring you news
Good news.
_Jail._ They are welcome.
_2 Fr. Palamon_ has clear'd you,
And got your pardon, and discover'd
How, and by whose means he scap'd, which was your Daughter's,
Whose pardon is procured too, and the prisoner
Not to be held ungrateful to her goodness,
Has given a sum of money to her Marriage,
A large one I'll assure you.
_Jail._ Ye are a good man
And ever bring good news.
_1 Fr._ How was it ended?
_2 Fr._ Why, as it should be; they that ne'er begg'd
But they prevail'd, had their suits fairly granted.
The prisoners have their lives.
_1 Fr._ I knew 'twould be so.
_2 Fr._ But there be new conditions, which you'll hear of
At better time.
_Jail._ I hope they are good.
_2 Fr._ They are honourable,
How good they'll prove, I know not.
_Enter Wooer._
_1 Fr._ 'Twill be known.
_Woo._ Alas Sir, where's your Daughter?
_Jail._ Why do you ask?
_Woo._ Oh Sir, when did you see her?
_2 Fr._ How he looks!
_Jail._ This morning.
_Woo._ Was she well? was she in health Sir? when did she sleep?
_1 Fr._ These are strange questions.
_Jail._ I do not think she was very well, for now
You make me mind her, but this very day
I ask'd her questions, and she answer'd me
So far from what she was, so childishly,
So sillily, as if she were a fool,
An Innocent, and I was very angry.
But what of her Sir?
_Woo._ Nothing but my pity, but you must know it, and as good by me
As by another that less loves her:
_Jail._ Well Sir.
_1 Fr._ Not right?
_2 Fr._ Not well?--
[_Woo._] No Sir, not well.
'Tis too true, she is mad.
_1 Fr._ It cannot be.
_Woo._ Believe, you'll find it so.
_Jay._ I half suspected
What you told me: the gods comfort her:
Either this was her love to _Palamon_,
Or fear of my miscarrying on his scape,
Or both.
_Woo._ 'Tis likely.
_Jay._ But why all this haste, Sir?
_Woo._ I'll tell you quickly. As I late was angling
In the great Lake that lies behind the Palace,
From the far shore, thick set with Reeds and Sedges.
As patiently I was attending sport,
I heard a voice, a shrill one, and attentive
I gave my ear, when I might well perceive
'Twas one that sung, and by the smallness of it
A Boy or Woman. I then left my angle
To his own skill, came near, but yet perceiv'd not
Who made the sound; the Rushes, and the Reeds
Had so encompast it: I laid me down
And listned to the words she sung, for then
Through a small glade cut by the Fisher-men,
I saw it was your Daughter.
_Jail._ Pray goe on Sir?
_Woo._ She sung much, but no sence; only I heard her
Repeat this often. _Palamon_ is gone,
Is gone to th' wood to gather Mulberries,
I'll find him out to morrow.
_1 Fr._ Pretty soul.
_Woo._ His shackles will betray him, he'll be taken,
And what shall I do then? I'll bring a beavy,
A hundred black-ey'd Maids that love as I do
With Chaplets on their heads [of] Daffadillies,
With cherry lips, and cheeks of Damask Roses,
And all we'll dance an Antique 'fore the Duke,
And beg his pardon; then she talk'd of you, Sir;
That you must lose your head to morrow morning
And she must gather Flowers to bury you,
And see the house made handsome, then she sung
Nothing but willow, willow, willow, and between
Ever was, _Palamon_, fair _Palamon_,
And _Palamon_, was a tall young man. The place
Was knee deep where she sate; her careless Tresses,
A wrea[th] of Bull-rush rounded; about her stuck
Thousand fresh Water Flowers of several colours.
That methought she appear'd like the fair Nymph
That feeds the lake with waters, or as _Iris_
Newly dropt down from heaven; Rings she made
Of Rushes that grew by, and to 'em spoke
The prettiest posies: thus our true love's ty'd,
This you may loose, not me, and many a one:
And then she wept, and sung again, and sigh'd,
And with the same breath smil'd, and kist her hand.
_2 Fr._ Alas what pity it is?
_Woo._ I made in to her,
She saw me, and straight sought the flood, I sav'd her,
And set her safe to land: when presently
She slipt away, and to the City made,
With such a cry, and swiftness, that believe me
She left me far behind her; three, or four,
I saw from far off cross her, one of 'em
I knew to be your brother, where [she] staid,
And fell, scarce to be got away: I left them with her.
_Enter Brother, Daughter, and others._
And hither came to tell you: Here they are.
_Daugh. May you never more enjoy the light_, &c.
Is not this a fine Song?
_Bro._ Oh, a very fine one.
_Daugh._ I can sing twenty more.
_Bro._ I think you can.
_Daugh._ Yes truly can I, I can sing the _Broom_,
And _Bonny Robbin_. Are not you a Tailor?
_Bro._ Yes.
_Daugh._ Where's my wedding-Gown?
_Bro._ I'll bring it to morrow.
_Daugh._ Doe, very rarely, I must be abroad else
To call the Maids, and pay the Minstrels
For I must loose my Maiden-head by cock-light
'Twill never thrive else.
_Oh fair, oh sweet_, &c. [_Sings._
_Bro._ You must ev'n take it patiently.
_Jay._ 'Tis true.
_Daugh._ Good ev'n, good men, pray did you ever hear
Of one young _Palamon_?
_Jay._ Yes wench, we know him.
_Daugh._ Is't not a fine young Gentleman?
_Jay._ 'Tis Love.
_Bro._ By no mean cross her, she is then distemper'd
For worse than now she shows.
_1 Fr._ Yes, he's a fine man.
_Daugh._ Oh, is he so? you have a Sister.
_1 Fr._ Yes.
_Daugh._ But she shall never have him, tell her so,
For a trick that I know, y'had best look to her,
For if she see him once, she's gone, she's done,
And undone in an hour. All the young Maids
Of our Town are in love with him, but I laugh at 'em
And let 'em all alone, is't not a wise course?
_1 Fr._ Yes.
_Daugh._ There is at least two hundred now with child by him,
There must be four; yet I keep close for all this,
Close as a Cockle; and all these must be boys,
He has the trick on't, and at ten years old
They must be all gelt for Musicians,
And sing the wars of _Theseus_.
_2 Fr._ This is strange.
_Daugh._ As ever [you] heard, but say nothing.
_1 Fr._ No.
_Daugh._ They come from all parts of the Dukedom to him,
I'll warrant ye, he had not so few last night
As twenty, to dispatch, he'll tickle't up
In two hours, if his hand be in.
_Jay._ She's lost
Past all cure.
_Bro._ Heaven forbid man.
_Daug._ Come hither, you are a wise man.
_1 Fr._ Does she know him?
_2 Fr._ No, would she did.
_Daugh._ You are master of a Ship?
_Jay._ Yes.
_Daugh._ Where's your Compass?
_Jay._ Here.
_Daugh._ Set it to th' North.
And now direct your course to th' wood, where _Palamon_
Lies longing for me; for the Tackling
Let me alone; come weigh my hearts, cheerly.
_All._ Owgh, owgh, owgh, 'tis up, the wind's fair, top the
Bowling; out with the main sail, where's your
Whistle Master?
_Bro._ Let's get her in.
_Jay._ Up to the top Boy.
_Bro._ Where's the Pilot?
_1 Fr._ Here.
_Daugh._ What ken'st thou?
_3 Fr._ A fair wood.
_Daugh._ Bear for it master: tack about: [_Sings._
_When_ Cinthia _with her borrowed light_, &c. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Emilia _alone, with two Pictures_.
_Emil._ Yet I may bind those wounds up, that must open
And bleed to death for my sake else; I'll choose,
And end their strife: two such young handsome men
Shall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers,
Following the dead cold ashes of their Sons
Shall never curse my cruelty: Good Heaven;
What a sweet face has _Arcite_, if wise nature
With all her best endowments, all those beauties
She [sowes] into the births of noble bodies,
Were here a mortal woman, and had in her
The coy denials of young Maids, yet doubtless,
She would run mad for this man: what an eye!
Of what a fiery sparkle, and quick sweetness:
Has this young Prince! here Love himself sits smiling,
Just such another wanton _Ganimead_,
Set Love a fire with, and enforc'd the god
Snatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by him
A shining constellation: what a brow,
Of what a spacious Majesty he carries!
Arch'd like the great ey'd _Juno_'s, but far sweeter,
Smoother than _Pelops_ Shoulder! Fame and Honor
Methinks from hence, as from a Promontory
Pointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and sing
To all the under world, the Loves, and Fights
Of gods, and such men near 'em. _Palamon_,
Is but his foil, to him, a mere dull shadow,
He's swarth, and meagre, of an eye as heavy
As if he had lost his mother; a still temper,
No stirring in him, no alacrity,
Of all this sprightly sharpness, not a smile;
Yet these that we count errors, may become him:
_Narcissus_ was a sad Boy, but a heavenly:
Oh who can find the bent of womans fancy?
I'm a fool, my reason is lost in me,
I have no choice, and I have ly'd so lewdly
That Women ought to beat me. On my knees
I ask thy pardon: _Palamon_, thou art alone,
And only beautiful, and these th[e] eyes,
These the bright lamps of Beauty that command
And threaten Love, and what young Maid dare cross 'em
What a bold gravity, and yet inviting
Has this brown manly face! Oh Love, this only
From this hour is complexion: lye there _Arcite_,
Thou art a changling to him, a mere Gipsie.
And this the noble Bodie: I am sotted,
Utterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me.
For if my Brother, but even now had ask'd me
Whether I lov'd, I had run mad for _Arcite_.
Now if my Sister; More for _Palamon_.
Stand both together: now, come ask me Brother,
Alas, I know not: ask me now sweet Sister,
I may go look; what a mere child is _Fancie_,
That having two fair gawds of equal sweetness,
Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both.
_Enter_ Emil. _and Gent._
_Emil._ How now Sir?
_Gent._ From the Noble Duke your Brother
Madam, I bring you news: the Knights are come.
_Emil._ To end the quarrel?
_Gent._ Yes.
_Emil._ Would I might end first:
What sins have I committed, chaste _Diana_,
That my unspotted youth must now be soil'd
With bloud of Princes? and my Chastity
Be made the Altar, where the Lives of Lovers,
Two greater, and two better never yet
Made Mothers joy, must be the sacrifice
To my unhappy Beauty?
_Enter_ Theseus, Hippolita, Perithous, _and Attendants_.
_Thes._ Bring 'em in quickly,
By any means I long to see 'em.
Your two contending Lovers are return'd,
And with them their fair Knights: Now my fair Sister,
You must love one of them.
_Emil._ I had rather both,
So neither for my sake should fall untimely.
_Enter Messenger._ Curtis.
_Thes._ Who saw 'em?
_Per._ I a while.
_Gent._ And I.
_Thes._ From whence come you, Sir?
_Mess._ From the Knights.
_Thes._ Pray speak
You that have seen them, what they are.
_Mess._ I will Sir,
And truly what I think: six braver spirits
Than those they have brought, (if we judge by the outside)
I never saw, nor read of: he that stands
In the first place with _Arcite_, by his seeming
Should be a stout man, by his face a Prince,
(His very looks so say him) his complexion,
Nearer a brown, than black; stern, and yet noble,
Which shews him hardy, fearless, proud of dangers:
The circles of his eyes, shew fair within him,
And as a heated Lion, so he looks:
His hair hangs long behind him, black and shining
Like Ravens wings: his shoulders broad, and strong,
Arm'd long and round, and on his Thigh a Sword
Hung by a curious Bauldrick: when he frowns
To seal his Will with, better o' my conscience
Was never Soldiers friend.
_Thes._ Thou hast well describ'd him.
_Per._ Yet, a great deal short
Methinks, of him that's first with _Palamon_.
_Thes._ Pray speak him friend.
_Per._ I ghess he is a Prince too,
And if it may be, greater; for his show
Has all the ornament of honor in't:
He's somewhat bigger than the Knight he spoke of,
But of a face far sweeter; his complexion
Is (as a ripe Grape) ruddy: he has felt
Without doubt, what he fights for, and so apter
To make this cause his own: in's face appears
All the fair hopes of what he undertakes,
And when he's angry, then a setled valour
(Not tainted with extreams) runs through his body,
And guides his arm to brave things: Fear he cannot,
He shews no such soft temper, his head's yellow,
Hard hair'd, and curl'd, thick twin'd, like Ivy tops,
No[t] to undoe with thunder; in his face
The Livery of the warlike Maid appears,
Pure red and white, for yet no beard has blest him.
And in his rowling eyes sits victory,
As if she ever meant to correct his valour:
His Nose stands high, a Character of honor,
His red Lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.
_Emil._ Must these men die too?
_Per._ When he speaks, his tongue
Sounds like a Trumpet; all his lineaments
Are as a man would wish 'em, strong and clean,
He wears a well-steel'd Axe, the staffe of Gold,
His age some five and twenty.
_Mess._ There's another,
A little man, but of a tough soul, seeming
As great as any, fairer promises
In such a Body yet I never look'd on.
_Per._ Oh he that's freckle fac'd?
_Mess._ The same my Lord,
Are they not sweet ones?
_Per._ Yes, they are well.
_Mess._ Methinks,
Being so few, and well dispos'd, they shew
Great, and fine Art in nature, he's white hair'd,
Not wanton white, but such a manly colour
Next to an aborn, tough, and nimble set,
Which shows an active soul: his arms are brawny
Lin'd with strong sinews: to the shoulder-piece,
Gently they swell, like Women new conceiv'd,
Which speaks him prone to labour, never fainting
Under the weight of Arms, stout-hearted still,
But when he stirs, a Tiger; he's grey ey'd,
Which yields compassion where he conquers: sharp
To spie advantages, and where he finds 'em,
He's swift to make 'em his: He does no wrongs,
Nor takes none; he's round fac'd, and when he smiles
He shows a Lover, when he frowns, a Soldier:
About his head he wears the winners oak,
And in it stuck the favour of his Lady:
His age, some six and thirty. In his hand
He bears a Charging Staffe, emboss'd with Silver.
_Thes._ Are they all thus?
_Per._ They are all the sons of honor.
_Thes._ Now as I have a soul, I long to see 'em,
Lady, you shall see men fight now.
_Hip._ I wish it,
But not the cause my Lord; They would shew
Bravely about the Titles of two Kingdoms;
'Tis pity Love should be so tyrannous:
Oh my soft-hearted Sister, what think you?
Weep not, till they weep bloud: Wench it must be.
_Thes._ You have steel'd 'em with your Beauty: honor'd friend,
To you I give the Field; pray order it,
Fitting the persons that must use it.
_Per._ Yes Sir.
_Thes._ Come, I'll go visit 'em: I cannot stay,
Their fame has fir'd me so; till they appear,
Good friend be royal.
_Per._ There shall want no bravery.
_Emil._ Poor wench go weep, for whosoever wins,
Looses a noble Cosin, for thy sins. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Tertia._
_Enter Jailor, Wooer, Doctor._
_Doct._ Her distraction is more at some time of the Moon,
Than at other some, is it not?
_Jay._ She is continually in a harmless distemper, sleeps
Little, altogether without appetite, save often drinking,
Dreaming of another world, and a better; and what
Broken piece of matter so e'er she's about, the name
_Palamon_ lards it, that she farces ev'ry business
_Enter Daughter._
Withal, fits it to every question; Look where
She comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.
_Daugh._ I have forgot it quite; the burden on't was _Down_
_A down a_: and penn'd by no worse man, than
_Giraldo_, _Emilias_ Schoolmaster; he's as
Fantastical too, as ever he may goe upon's legs,
For in the next world will _Dido_ see _Palamon_, and
Then will she be out of love with _Æneas_.
_Doct._ What stuff's here? poor soul.
_Jay._ Ev'n thus all day long.
_Daugh._ Now for this Charm, that I told you of, you must
Bring a piece of silver on the tip of your tongue,
Or no ferry: then if it be your chance to come where
The blessed spirits, as there's a sight now; we Maids
That have our Livers, perisht, crackt to pieces with
Love, we shall come there, and do nothing all day long
But pick Flowers with _Proserpine_, then will I make
_Palamon_ a Nosegay, then let him mark me,--then.
_Doct._ How prettily she's amiss! note her a little farther.
_Da[u]._ Faith I'll tell you, sometime we goe to Barly-break,
We of the blessed; alas, 'tis a sore life they have i' th'
Other place, such burning, frying, boiling, hissing,
Howling, chatt'ring, cursing, oh they have shrowd
Measure, take heed; if one be mad, or hang, or
Drown themselves, thither they goe, _Jupiter_ bless
Us, and there shall we be put in a Cauldron of
Lead, and Usurers grease, amongst a whole million of
Cut-purses, and there boil like a Gamon of Bacon
That will never be enough. [_Exit._
_Doct._ How her brain coins!
_Daugh._ Lords and Courtiers, that have got Maids with child,
they are in this place, they shall stand in fire up to the
Navel, and in Ice up to th' heart, and there th' offending part
burns, and the deceiving part freezes; in troth a very grievous
punishment, as one would think, for such a Trifle, believe me
one would marry a leprous witch, to be rid on't I'll assure you.
_Doct._ How she continues this fancie! 'Tis not an engraffed
madness but a most thick, and profound melancholly.
_Daugh._ To hear there a proud Lady, and a proud City wife,
howl together: I were a beast, and Il'd call it good sport: one
cries, oh this smoak, another this fire; one cries oh that I
ever did it behind the Arras, and then howls; th' other curses
a suing fellow and her Garden-house.