# The Complete Works of William Shakespeare ## Part 206 Book page: https://www.cyberlibrary.org/en/books/the-complete-works-of-william-shakespeare-100/index.md A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful. I hope my master’s suit will be but cold, Since she respects my mistress’ love so much. Alas, how love can trifle with itself! Here is her picture; let me see. I think If I had such a tire, this face of mine Were full as lovely as is this of hers; And yet the painter flattered her a little, Unless I flatter with myself too much. Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow; If that be all the difference in his love, I’ll get me such a coloured periwig. Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine. Ay, but her forehead’s low, and mine’s as high. What should it be that he respects in her But I can make respective in myself, If this fond Love were not a blinded god? Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, For ’tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, Thou shalt be worshipped, kissed, loved, and adored; And were there sense in his idolatry, My substance should be statue in thy stead. I’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake, That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow, I should have scratched out your unseeing eyes To make my master out of love with thee. [_Exit._] ACT V SCENE I. Milan. An abbey Enter Eglamour. EGLAMOUR. The sun begins to gild the western sky, And now it is about the very hour That Silvia at Friar Patrick’s cell should meet me. She will not fail, for lovers break not hours, Unless it be to come before their time, So much they spur their expedition. Enter Silvia. See where she comes. Lady, a happy evening! SILVIA. Amen, amen. Go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey wall. I fear I am attended by some spies. EGLAMOUR. Fear not. The forest is not three leagues off; If we recover that, we are sure enough. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The same. A room in the Duke’s palace Enter Thurio, Proteus and Julia. THURIO. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? PROTEUS. O, sir, I find her milder than she was, And yet she takes exceptions at your person. THURIO. What? That my leg is too long? PROTEUS. No, that it is too little. THURIO. I’ll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder. JULIA. [_Aside_.] But love will not be spurred to what it loathes. THURIO. What says she to my face? PROTEUS. She says it is a fair one. THURIO. Nay, then, the wanton lies; my face is black. PROTEUS. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, “Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes.” JULIA. [_Aside_.] ’Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies’ eyes, For I had rather wink than look on them. THURIO. How likes she my discourse? PROTEUS. Ill, when you talk of war. THURIO. But well when I discourse of love and peace. JULIA. [_Aside_.] But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. THURIO. What says she to my valour? PROTEUS. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. JULIA. [_Aside_.] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. THURIO. What says she to my birth? PROTEUS. That you are well derived. JULIA. [_Aside_.] True, from a gentleman to a fool. THURIO. Considers she my possessions? PROTEUS. O, ay, and pities them. THURIO. Wherefore? JULIA. [_Aside_.] That such an ass should owe them. PROTEUS. That they are out by lease. JULIA. Here comes the Duke. Enter Duke. DUKE. How now, Sir Proteus! How now, Thurio! Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late? THURIO. Not I. PROTEUS. Nor I. DUKE. Saw you my daughter? PROTEUS. Neither. DUKE. Why then, she’s fled unto that peasant Valentine, And Eglamour is in her company. ’Tis true, for Friar Lawrence met them both As he in penance wandered through the forest; Him he knew well, and guessed that it was she, But, being masked, he was not sure of it. Besides, she did intend confession At Patrick’s cell this even, and there she was not. These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, But mount you presently and meet with me Upon the rising of the mountain foot That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled. Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. [_Exit._] THURIO. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl That flies her fortune when it follows her. I’ll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour Than for the love of reckless Silvia. [_Exit._] PROTEUS. And I will follow, more for Silvia’s love Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. [_Exit._] JULIA. And I will follow, more to cross that love Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [_Exit._] SCENE III. Frontiers of Mantua. The forest Enter Silvia and Outlaws. FIRST OUTLAW. Come, come, be patient. We must bring you to our captain. SILVIA. A thousand more mischances than this one Have learned me how to brook this patiently. SECOND OUTLAW. Come, bring her away. FIRST OUTLAW. Where is the gentleman that was with her? SECOND OUTLAW. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us. But Moyses and Valerius follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; There is our captain. We’ll follow him that’s fled. The thicket is beset; he cannot ’scape. [_Exeunt Second and Third Outlaws._] FIRST OUTLAW. Come, I must bring you to our captain’s cave. Fear not; he bears an honourable mind And will not use a woman lawlessly. SILVIA. O Valentine, this I endure for thee! [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Another part of the forest Enter Valentine. VALENTINE. How use doth breed a habit in a man! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale’s complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall And leave no memory of what it was. Repair me with thy presence, Silvia; Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain. [_Shouts within._] What hallowing and what stir is this today? These are my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger in chase. They love me well; yet I have much to do To keep them from uncivil outrages. Withdraw thee, Valentine. Who’s this comes here? [_Steps aside._] Enter Proteus, Silvia and Julia as Sebastian. PROTEUS. Madam, this service I have done for you— Though you respect not aught your servant doth— To hazard life, and rescue you from him That would have forced your honour and your love. Vouchsafe me for my meed but one fair look; A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. VALENTINE. [_Aside_.] How like a dream is this I see and hear! Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. SILVIA. O miserable, unhappy that I am! PROTEUS. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; But by my coming I have made you happy. SILVIA. By thy approach thou mak’st me most unhappy. JULIA. [_Aside_.] And me, when he approacheth to your presence. SILVIA. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, I would have been a breakfast to the beast Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. O heaven, be judge how I love Valentine, Whose life’s as tender to me as my soul! And full as much, for more there cannot be, I do detest false perjured Proteus. Therefore be gone, solicit me no more. PROTEUS. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look! O, ’tis the curse in love, and still approved, When women cannot love where they’re beloved. SILVIA. When Proteus cannot love where he’s beloved. Read over Julia’s heart, thy first best love, For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths Descended into perjury to love me. Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou’dst two, And that’s far worse than none; better have none Than plural faith, which is too much by one. Thou counterfeit to thy true friend! PROTEUS. In love Who respects friend? SILVIA. All men but Proteus. PROTEUS. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form, I’ll woo you like a soldier, at arms’ end, And love you ’gainst the nature of love—force ye. [_He seizes her._] SILVIA. O heaven! PROTEUS. I’ll force thee yield to my desire. VALENTINE. [_Comes forward_.] Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, Thou friend of an ill fashion! PROTEUS. Valentine! VALENTINE. Thou common friend, that’s without faith or love, For such is a friend now. Treacherous man, Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but mine eye Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me. Who should be trusted, when one’s right hand Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst, ’Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst! PROTEUS. My shame and guilt confounds me. Forgive me, Valentine; if hearty sorrow Be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender ’t here. I do as truly suffer As e’er I did commit. VALENTINE. Then I am paid, And once again I do receive thee honest. Who by repentance is not satisfied Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased; By penitence th’ Eternal’s wrath’s appeased. And that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. JULIA. O me unhappy! [_Swoons._] PROTEUS. Look to the boy. VALENTINE. Why, boy! Why, wag! How now? What’s the matter? Look up; speak. JULIA. O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which out of my neglect was never done. PROTEUS. Where is that ring, boy? JULIA. Here ’tis; this is it. [_Gives him a ring._] PROTEUS. How, let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. JULIA. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook. This is the ring you sent to Silvia. [_Shows another ring._] PROTEUS. But how cam’st thou by this ring? At my depart I gave this unto Julia. JULIA. And Julia herself did give it me, And Julia herself have brought it hither. [_She reveals herself._] PROTEUS. How? Julia? JULIA. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths And entertained ’em deeply in her heart. How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root! O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush. Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment, if shame live In a disguise of love. It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes than men their minds. PROTEUS. Than men their minds! ’Tis true. O heaven, were man But constant, he were perfect. That one error Fills him with faults, makes him run through all th’ sins; Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. What is in Silvia’s face but I may spy More fresh in Julia’s with a constant eye? VALENTINE. Come, come, a hand from either. Let me be blest to make this happy close. ’Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. PROTEUS. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever. JULIA. And I mine. Enter Outlaws with Duke and Thurio. OUTLAWS. A prize, a prize, a prize! VALENTINE. Forbear, forbear, I say! It is my lord the Duke. Your Grace is welcome to a man disgraced, Banished Valentine. DUKE. Sir Valentine! THURIO. Yonder is Silvia, and Silvia’s mine. VALENTINE. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death; Come not within the measure of my wrath. Do not name Silvia thine; if once again, Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands; Take but possession of her with a touch— I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. THURIO. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I. I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not. I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. DUKE. The more degenerate and base art thou To make such means for her as thou hast done, And leave her on such slight conditions.— Now, by the honour of my ancestry, I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of an empress’ love. Know then, I here forget all former griefs, Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, Plead a new state in thy unrivalled merit, To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, Thou art a gentleman, and well derived; Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her. VALENTINE. I thank your Grace; the gift hath made me happy. I now beseech you, for your daughter’s sake, To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. DUKE. I grant it for thine own, whate’er it be. VALENTINE. These banished men, that I have kept withal, Are men endued with worthy qualities. Forgive them what they have committed here, And let them be recalled from their exile. They are reformed, civil, full of good, And fit for great employment, worthy lord. DUKE. Thou hast prevailed; I pardon them and thee. Dispose of them as thou know’st their deserts. Come, let us go; we will include all jars With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity. VALENTINE. And as we walk along, I dare be bold With our discourse to make your Grace to smile. What think you of this page, my lord? DUKE. I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes. VALENTINE. I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy. DUKE. What mean you by that saying? VALENTINE. Please you, I’ll tell you as we pass along, That you will wonder what hath fortuned. Come, Proteus, ’tis your penance but to hear The story of your loves discovered. That done, our day of marriage shall be yours, One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. [_Exeunt._] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN Contents ACT I PROLOGUE Scene I. Athens. Before a temple Scene II. Thebes. The Court of the Palace Scene III. Before the gates of Athens Scene IV. A field before Thebes. Scene V. Another part of the same, more remote from Thebes ACT II Scene I. Athens. A garden, with a castle in the background Scene II. The prison Scene III. The country near Athens Scene IV. Athens. A room in the prison Scene V. An open place in Athens Scene VI. Athens. Before the prison ACT III Scene I. A forest near Athens Scene II. Another part of the forest Scene III. The same part of the forest as in scene I. Scene IV. Another part of the forest Scene V. Another part of the forest Scene VI. The same part of the forest as in scene III. ACT IV Scene I. Athens. A room in the prison Scene II. A Room in the Palace Scene III. A room in the prison ACT V Scene I. Athens. Before the Temples of Mars, Venus, and Diana Scene II. Athens. A Room in the Prison Scene III. A part of the Forest near Athens, and near the Place appointed for the Combat Scene IV. The same; a Block prepared EPILOGUE Dramatis Personæ PROLOGUE ARCITE, the two noble kinsmen, cousins, PALAMON, nephews of Creon, King of Thebes THESEUS, Duke of Athens HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, later Duchess of Athens EMILIA, Sister of Hippolyta PIRITHOUS, friend to Theseus Three QUEENS, widows of the kings killed in laying siege to Thebes The JAILER of Theseus’s prison His DAUGHTER, in love with Palamon His BROTHER, The WOOER of the Jailer’s daughter Two FRIENDS of the Jailer, A DOCTOR ARTESIUS, an Athenian soldier VALERIUS, a Theban WOMAN, attending on Emilia An Athenian GENTLEMAN Six KNIGHTS, three accompanying Arcite, three Palamon Six COUNTRYMEN, one dressed as a Bavian or baboon Gerald, a SCHOOLMASTER NEL, a countrywoman A TABORER A singing BOY A HERALD A MESSENGER A SERVANT EPILOGUE Hymen (god of weddings), lords, soldiers, four countrywomen (Fritz, Maudlin, Luce, and Barbary), nymphs, attendants, maids, executioner, guard SCENE: Athens and the Neighbourhood, except in part of the first Act, where it is Thebes and the Neighbourhood PROLOGUE Flourish. Enter Prologue. PROLOGUE. New plays and maidenheads are near akin: Much followed both, for both much money gi’en, If they stand sound and well. And a good play, Whose modest scenes blush on his marriage day And shake to lose his honour, is like her That after holy tie and first night’s stir Yet still is Modesty, and still retains More of the maid, to sight, than husband’s pains. We pray our play may be so, for I am 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 admired, 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 underground, “O, fan From me the witless chaff of such a writer That blasts my bays and my famed 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 Scenes, 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. [_Flourish. Exit._] ACT I SCENE I. Athens. Before a temple 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 Hippolyta, the bride, led by Pirithous, and another holding a garland over her head, her tresses likewise hanging. After her, Emilia, holding up her train. Then Artesius and Attendants. [_Music._] The Song _Roses, their sharp spines being gone, Not royal in their smells alone, But in their hue; Maiden pinks of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, And sweet thyme true;_ _Primrose, first-born child of Ver, Merry springtime’s harbinger, With harebells dim, Oxlips in their cradles growing, Marigolds on deathbeds blowing, Lark’s-heels trim;_ [_Strews flowers._] _All dear Nature’s children sweet Lie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet, Blessing their sense. Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, Is absent hence._ _The crow, the sland’rous cuckoo, nor The boding raven, nor chough hoar, Nor chatt’ring ’pie, May on our bride-house perch or sing, Or with them any discord bring, But from it fly._ Enter three Queens in black, with veils stained, with imperial crowns. The first Queen falls down at the foot of Theseus; the second falls down at the foot of Hippolyta; the third before Emilia. FIRST QUEEN. For pity’s sake and true gentility’s, Hear and respect me. SECOND QUEEN. For your mother’s sake, And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones, Hear and respect me. THIRD QUEEN. Now, for the love of him whom Jove hath marked The honour 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. THESEUS. Sad lady, rise. HIPPOLYTA. Stand up. EMILIA. No knees to me. What woman I may stead that is distressed, Does bind me to her. THESEUS. What’s your request? Deliver you for all. FIRST QUEEN. We are three queens whose sovereigns fell before The wrath of cruel Creon, who endure The beaks of ravens, talons of the kites, And pecks of crows, in the foul fields of Thebes. He will not suffer us to burn their bones, To urn their ashes, nor to take th’ offence Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye Of holy Phœbus, but infects the winds With stench of our slain lords. O, pity, Duke! Thou purger of the earth, draw thy feared sword That does good turns to th’ world; give us the bones Of our dead kings, that we may chapel them; And of thy boundless goodness take some note That for our crowned heads we have no roof Save this, which is the lion’s and the bear’s, And vault to everything. THESEUS. Pray you, kneel not. I was transported with your speech and suffered 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 nor threshed 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 Nemean hide And swore his sinews thawed. O grief and time, Fearful consumers, you will all devour! FIRST QUEEN. O, I hope some god, Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood, Whereto he’ll infuse power, and press you forth Our undertaker. THESEUS. O, no knees, none, widow! Unto the helmeted Bellona use them, And pray for me, your soldier. Troubled I am. [_Turns away._] SECOND QUEEN. Honoured Hippolyta, Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slain The scythe-tusked boar; that with thy arm, as strong As it is white, wast near to make the male To thy sex captive, but that this thy lord, Born to uphold creation in that honour First nature styled it in, shrunk thee into The bound thou wast o’erflowing, at once subduing Thy force and thy affection; soldieress That equally canst poise 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 thy 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 woman’s key, like such a woman As any of us three; weep ere you fail. Lend us a knee; But touch the ground for us no longer time Than a dove’s motion when the head’s plucked off. Tell him if he i’ th’ blood-sized field lay swollen, Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, What you would do. HIPPOLYTA. Poor lady, say no more. I had as lief trace this good action with you As that whereto I am 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. THIRD QUEEN. O, my petition was Set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form, Is pressed with deeper matter. EMILIA. Pray, stand up; Your grief is written in your cheek. THIRD QUEEN. O, woe! You cannot read it there. There through my tears, Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy 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. O, pardon me! Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits, Makes me a fool. EMILIA. 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-pierced 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 brother’s heart and warm it to some pity, Though it were made of stone. Pray have good comfort. THESEUS. Forward to th’ temple! Leave not out a jot O’ th’ sacred ceremony. FIRST QUEEN. O, this celebration Will longer last and be more costly than Your suppliants’ war! Remember that your fame Knolls 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, O Jove, your actions, Soon as they move, as ospreys do the fish, Subdue before they touch. Think, dear Duke, think What beds our slain kings have! SECOND QUEEN. What griefs our beds, That our dear lords have none! THIRD QUEEN. None fit for th’ dead. Those that with cords, knives, drams, precipitance, Weary of this world’s light, have to themselves Been death’s most horrid agents, human grace Affords them dust and shadow. FIRST QUEEN. But our lords Lie blist’ring ’fore the visitating sun, And were good kings when living. THESEUS. 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.