Chapter 2

[A Battaile strooke within: Then a Retrait: Florish. Then Enter Theseus (victor), (Herald and Attendants:) the three Queenes meete him, and fall on their faces before him.]

1. QUEEN. To thee no starre be darke.

2. QUEEN. Both heaven and earth Friend thee for ever.

3. QUEEN. All the good that may Be wishd upon thy head, I cry Amen too’t.

THESEUS. Th’imparciall Gods, who from the mounted heavens View us their mortall Heard, behold who erre, And in their time chastice: goe and finde out The bones of your dead Lords, and honour them With treble Ceremonie; rather then a gap Should be in their deere rights, we would supply’t. But those we will depute, which shall invest You in your dignities, and even each thing Our hast does leave imperfect: So, adiew, And heavens good eyes looke on you. What are those? [Exeunt Queenes.]

HERALD. Men of great quality, as may be judgd By their appointment; Sone of Thebs have told’s They are Sisters children, Nephewes to the King.

THESEUS. By’th Helme of Mars, I saw them in the war, Like to a paire of Lions, smeard with prey, Make lanes in troopes agast. I fixt my note Constantly on them; for they were a marke Worth a god’s view: what prisoner was’t that told me When I enquired their names?

HERALD. Wi’leave, they’r called Arcite and Palamon.

THESEUS. Tis right: those, those. They are not dead?

HERALD. Nor in a state of life: had they bin taken, When their last hurts were given, twas possible [3. Hearses ready.] They might have bin recovered; Yet they breathe And haue the name of men.

THESEUS. Then like men use ’em. The very lees of such (millions of rates) Exceede the wine of others: all our Surgions Convent in their behoofe; our richest balmes Rather then niggard, waft: their lives concerne us Much more then Thebs is worth: rather then 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 then death. Beare ’em speedily From our kinde aire, to them unkinde, and minister What man to man may doe—for our sake more, Since I have knowne frights, fury, friends beheastes, Loves provocations, zeale, a mistris Taske, Desire of liberty, a feavour, madnes, Hath set a marke which nature could not reach too Without some imposition: sicknes in will Or wrastling strength in reason. For our Love And great Appollos mercy, all our best Their best skill tender. Leade into the Citty, Where having bound things scatterd, we will post [Florish.] To Athens for(e) our Army [Exeunt. Musicke.]

Scaena 5. (Another part of the same.)

[Enter the Queenes with the Hearses of their Knightes, in a Funerall Solempnity, &c.]

Vrnes and odours bring away, Vapours, sighes, darken the day; Our dole more deadly lookes than dying; Balmes, and Gummes, and heavy cheeres, Sacred vials fill’d with teares, And clamors through the wild ayre flying.

Come all sad and solempne Showes, That are quick-eyd pleasures foes; We convent nought else but woes. We convent, &c.

3. QUEEN. This funeral path brings to your housholds grave: Ioy ceaze on you againe: peace sleepe with him.

2. QUEEN. And this to yours.

1. QUEEN. Yours this way: Heavens lend A thousand differing waies to one sure end.

3. QUEEN. This world’s a Citty full of straying Streetes, And Death’s the market place, where each one meetes. [Exeunt severally.]

Actus Secundus.

Scaena 1. (Athens. A garden, with a prison in the background.)

[Enter Iailor, and Wooer.]

IAILOR. I may depart with little, while I live; some thing I may cast to you, not much: Alas, the Prison I keepe, though it be for great ones, yet they seldome come; Before one Salmon, you shall take a number of Minnowes. I am given out to be better lyn’d then it can appeare to me report is a true Speaker: I would I were really that I am deliverd 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 demaund no more then your owne offer, and I will estate your Daughter in what I have promised.

IAILOR. Wel, we will talke more of this, when the solemnity is past. But have you a full promise of her? When that shall be seene, I tender my consent.

[Enter Daughter.]

WOOER. I have Sir; here shee comes.

IAILOR. Your Friend and I have chanced to name you here, upon the old busines: But no more of that now; so soone as the Court hurry is over, we will have an end of it: I’th meane time looke tenderly to the two Prisoners. I can tell you they are princes.

DAUGHTER. These strewings are for their Chamber; tis pitty they are in prison, and twer pitty they should be out: I doe thinke they have patience to make any adversity asham’d; the prison it selfe is proud of ’em; and they have all the world in their Chamber.

IAILOR. They are fam’d to be a paire of absolute men.

DAUGHTER. By my troth, I think Fame but stammers ’em; they stand a greise above the reach of report.

IAILOR. I heard them reported in the Battaile to be the only doers.

DAUGHTER. Nay, most likely, for they are noble suffrers; I mervaile how they would have lookd had they beene Victors, that with such a constant Nobility enforce a freedome out of Bondage, making misery their Mirth, and affliction a toy to jest at.

IAILOR. Doe they so?

DAUGHTER. It seemes to me they have no more sence of their Captivity, then I of ruling Athens: they eate well, looke merrily, discourse of many things, but nothing of their owne restraint, and disasters: yet sometime a devided sigh, martyrd as ’twer i’th deliverance, will breake from one of them; when the other presently gives it so sweete a rebuke, that I could wish my selfe a Sigh to be so chid, or at least a Sigher to be comforted.

WOOER. I never saw ’em.

IAILOR. The Duke himselfe came privately in the night,

[Enter Palamon, and Arcite, above.]

and so did they: what the reason of it is, I know not: Looke, yonder they are! that’s Arcite lookes out.

DAUGHTER. No, Sir, no, that’s Palamon: Arcite is the lower of the twaine; you may perceive a part of him.

IAILOR. Goe too, leave your pointing; they would not make us their object; out of their sight.

DAUGHTER. It is a holliday to looke on them: Lord, the diffrence of men!

[Exeunt.]

Scaena 2. (The prison)

[Enter Palamon, and Arcite in prison.]

PALAMON. How doe you, Noble Cosen?

ARCITE. How doe you, Sir?

PALAMON. Why strong inough to laugh at misery, And beare the chance of warre, yet we are prisoners, I feare, for ever, Cosen.

ARCITE. I beleeve it, And to that destiny have patiently Laide up my houre to come.

PALAMON. O Cosen Arcite, Where is Thebs now? where is our noble Country? Where are our friends, and kindreds? never more Must we behold those comforts, never see The hardy youthes strive for the Games of honour (Hung with the painted favours of their Ladies, Like tall Ships under saile) then start among’st ’em And as an Eastwind leave ’en all behinde us, Like lazy Clowdes, whilst Palamon and Arcite, Even in the wagging of a wanton leg Out-stript the peoples praises, won the Garlands, Ere they have time to wish ’em ours. O never Shall we two exercise, like Twyns of honour, Our Armes againe, and feele our fyry horses Like proud Seas under us: our good Swords now (Better the red-eyd god of war nev’r wore) Ravishd our sides, like age must run to rust, And decke the Temples of those gods that hate us: These hands shall never draw’em out like lightning, To blast whole Armies more.

ARCITE. No, Palamon, Those hopes are Prisoners with us; here we are And here the graces of our youthes must wither Like a too-timely Spring; here age must finde us, And, which is heaviest, Palamon, unmarried; The sweete embraces of a loving wife, Loden with kisses, armd with thousand Cupids Shall never claspe our neckes, 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 armes, and say: ‘Remember what your fathers were, and conquer.’ The faire-eyd Maides, shall weepe our Banishments, And in their Songs, curse ever-blinded fortune, Till shee 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, Heare nothing but the Clocke that tels our woes. The Vine shall grow, but we shall never see it: Sommer shall come, and with her all delights; But dead-cold winter must inhabite here still.

PALAMON. Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban houndes, That shooke the aged Forrest with their ecchoes, No more now must we halloa, no more shake Our pointed Iavelyns, whilst the angry Swine Flyes like a parthian quiver from our rages, Strucke with our well-steeld Darts: All valiant uses (The foode, and nourishment of noble mindes,) In us two here shall perish; we shall die (Which is the curse of honour) lastly Children of greife, and Ignorance.

ARCITE. Yet, Cosen, Even from the bottom of these miseries, From all that fortune can inflict upon us, I see two comforts rysing, two meere blessings, If the gods please: to hold here a brave patience, And the enjoying of our greefes together. Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish If I thinke this our prison.

PALAMON. Certeinly, Tis a maine goodnes, Cosen, that our fortunes Were twyn’d together; tis most true, two soules Put in two noble Bodies—let ’em suffer The gaule of hazard, so they grow together— Will never sincke; they must not, say they could: A willing man dies sleeping, and all’s done.

ARCITE. Shall we make worthy uses of this place That all men hate so much?

PALAMON. How, gentle Cosen?

ARCITE. Let’s thinke this prison holy sanctuary, To keepe us from corruption of worse men. We are young and yet desire the waies of honour, That liberty and common Conversation, The poyson of pure spirits, might like women Wooe us to wander from. What worthy blessing Can be but our Imaginations May make it ours? And heere being thus together, We are an endles mine to one another; We are one anothers wife, ever begetting New birthes of love; we are father, friends, acquaintance; We are, in one another, Families, I am your heire, and you are mine: This place Is our Inheritance, no hard Oppressour Dare take this from us; here, with a little patience, We shall live long, and loving: No surfeits seeke 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 busines; Quarrels consume us, Envy of ill men Grave our acquaintance; I might sicken, Cosen, Where you should never know it, and so perish Without your noble hand to close mine eies, Or praiers to the gods: a thousand chaunces, Were we from hence, would seaver us.

PALAMON. You have made me (I thanke you, Cosen Arcite) almost wanton With my Captivity: what a misery It is to live abroade, and every where! Tis like a Beast, me thinkes: I finde the Court here— I am sure, a more content; and all those pleasures That wooe the wils of men to vanity, I see through now, and am sufficient To tell the world, tis but a gaudy shaddow, That old Time, as he passes by, takes with him. What had we bin, old in the Court of Creon, Where sin is Iustice, lust and ignorance The vertues of the great ones! Cosen Arcite, Had not the loving gods found this place for us, We had died as they doe, ill old men, unwept, And had their Epitaphes, the peoples Curses: Shall I say more?

ARCITE. I would heare you still.

PALAMON. Ye shall. Is there record of any two that lov’d Better then we doe, Arcite?

ARCITE. Sure, there cannot.

PALAMON. I doe not thinke it possible our friendship Should ever leave us.

ARCITE. Till our deathes it cannot;

[Enter Emilia and her woman (below).]

And after death our spirits shall be led To those that love eternally. Speake on, Sir.

EMILIA. This garden has a world of pleasures in’t. What Flowre is this?

WOMAN. Tis calld Narcissus, Madam.

EMILIA. That was a faire Boy, certaine, but a foole, To love himselfe; were there not maides enough?

ARCITE. Pray forward.

PALAMON. Yes.

EMILIA. Or were they all hard hearted?

WOMAN. They could not be to one so faire.

EMILIA. Thou wouldst not.

WOMAN. I thinke I should not, Madam.

EMILIA. That’s a good wench: But take heede to your kindnes though.

WOMAN. Why, Madam?

EMILIA. Men are mad things.

ARCITE. Will ye goe forward, Cosen?

EMILIA. Canst not thou worke such flowers in silke, wench?

WOMAN. Yes.

EMILIA. Ile have a gowne full of ’em, and of these; This is a pretty colour, wilt not doe Rarely upon a Skirt, wench?

WOMAN. Deinty, Madam.

ARCITE. Cosen, Cosen, how doe you, Sir? Why, Palamon?

PALAMON. Never till now I was in prison, Arcite.

ARCITE. Why whats the matter, Man?

PALAMON. Behold, and wonder. By heaven, shee is a Goddesse.

ARCITE. Ha.

PALAMON. Doe reverence. She is a Goddesse, Arcite.

EMILIA. Of all Flowres, me thinkes a Rose is best.

WOMAN. Why, gentle Madam?

EMILIA. It is the very Embleme of a Maide. For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blowes, and paints the Sun, With her chaste blushes! When the North comes neere her, Rude and impatient, then, like Chastity, Shee lockes her beauties in her bud againe, And leaves him to base briers.

WOMAN. Yet, good Madam, Sometimes her modesty will blow so far She fals for’t: a Mayde, If shee have any honour, would be loth To take example by her.

EMILIA. Thou art wanton.

ARCITE. She is wondrous faire.

PALAMON. She is beauty extant.

EMILIA. The Sun grows high, lets walk in: keep these flowers; Weele see how neere Art can come neere their colours. I am wondrous merry hearted, I could laugh now.

WOMAN. I could lie downe, I am sure.

EMILIA. And take one with you?

WOMAN. That’s as we bargaine, Madam.

EMILIA. Well, agree then. [Exeunt Emilia and woman.]

PALAMON. What thinke you of this beauty?

ARCITE. Tis a rare one.

PALAMON. Is’t but a rare one?

ARCITE. Yes, a matchles beauty.

PALAMON. Might not a man well lose himselfe and love her?

ARCITE. I cannot tell what you have done, I have; Beshrew mine eyes for’t: now I feele my Shackles.

PALAMON. You love her, then?

ARCITE. Who would not?

PALAMON. And desire her?

ARCITE. Before my liberty.

PALAMON. I saw her first.

ARCITE. That’s nothing.

PALAMON. But it shall be.

ARCITE. I saw her too.

PALAMON. Yes, but you must not love her.

ARCITE. I will not as you doe, to worship her, As she is heavenly, and a blessed Goddes; I love her as a woman, to enjoy her: So both may love.

PALAMON. You shall not love at all.

ARCITE. Not love at all! Who shall deny me?

PALAMON. I, that first saw her; I, that tooke possession First with mine eyes of all those beauties In her reveald to mankinde: if thou lou’st her, Or entertain’st a hope to blast my wishes, Thou art a Traytour, Arcite, and a fellow False as thy Title to her: friendship, blood, And all the tyes betweene us I disclaime, If thou once thinke upon her.

ARCITE. Yes, I love her, And if the lives of all my name lay on it, I must doe so; I love her with my soule: If that will lose ye, farewell, Palamon; I say againe, I love, and in loving her maintaine 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 Sonne.

PALAMON. Have I cald thee friend?

ARCITE. Yes, and have found me so; why are you mov’d thus? Let me deale coldly with you: am not I Part of your blood, part of your soule? you have told me That I was Palamon, and you were Arcite.

PALAMON. Yes.

ARCITE. Am not I liable to those affections, Those joyes, greifes, angers, feares, my friend shall suffer?

PALAMON. Ye may be.

ARCITE. Why, then, would you deale so cunningly, So strangely, so vnlike a noble kinesman, To love alone? speake truely: doe you thinke me Vnworthy of her sight?

PALAMON. No; but unjust, If thou pursue that sight.

ARCITE. Because an other First sees the Enemy, shall I stand still And let mine honour downe, and never charge?

PALAMON. Yes, if he be but one.

ARCITE. But say that one Had rather combat me?

PALAMON. Let that one say so, And use thy freedome; els if thou pursuest her, Be as that cursed man that hates his Country, A branded villaine.

ARCITE. You are mad.

PALAMON. I must be, Till thou art worthy, Arcite; it concernes me, And in this madnes, if I hazard thee And take thy life, I deale but truely.

ARCITE. Fie, Sir, You play the Childe extreamely: I will love her, I must, I ought to doe so, and I dare; And all this justly.

PALAMON. O that now, that now Thy false-selfe and thy friend had but this fortune, To be one howre at liberty, and graspe Our good Swords in our hands! I would quickly teach thee What ’twer to filch affection from another: Thou art baser in it then a Cutpurse; Put but thy head out of this window more, And as I have a soule, Ile naile thy life too’t.

ARCITE. Thou dar’st not, foole, thou canst not, thou art feeble. Put my head out? Ile throw my Body out, And leape the garden, when I see her next

[Enter Keeper.]

And pitch between her armes to anger thee.

PALAMON. No more; the keeper’s comming; I shall live To knocke thy braines out with my Shackles.

ARCITE. Doe.

KEEPER. By your leave, Gentlemen—

PALAMON. Now, honest keeper?

KEEPER. Lord Arcite, you must presently to’th Duke; The cause I know not yet.

ARCITE. I am ready, keeper.

KEEPER. Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you Of your faire Cosens Company. [Exeunt Arcite, and Keeper.]

PALAMON. 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 blood and body: But his falsehood! Why should a friend be treacherous? If that Get him a wife so noble, and so faire, Let honest men ne’re love againe. Once more I would but see this faire One. Blessed Garden, And fruite, 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 Apricocke; How I would spread, and fling my wanton armes In at her window; I would bring her fruite 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 neere the Gods in nature, they should feare her,

[Enter Keeper.]

And then I am sure she would love me. How now, keeper. Wher’s Arcite?

KEEPER. Banishd: Prince Pirithous Obtained his liberty; but never more Vpon his oth and life must he set foote Vpon this Kingdome.

PALAMON. Hees a blessed man! He shall see Thebs againe, and call to Armes The bold yong men, that, when he bids ’em charge, Fall on like fire: Arcite shall have a Fortune, If he dare make himselfe a worthy Lover, Yet in the Feild to strike a battle for her; And if he lose her then, he’s a cold Coward; How bravely may he beare himselfe to win her If he be noble Arcite—thousand waies. Were I at liberty, I would doe things Of such a vertuous greatnes, that this Lady, This blushing virgine, should take manhood to her And seeke to ravish me.

KEEPER. My Lord for you I have this charge too—

PALAMON. To discharge my life?

KEEPER. No, but from this place to remoove your Lordship: The windowes are too open.

PALAMON. Devils take ’em, That are so envious to me! pre’thee kill me.

KEEPER. And hang for’t afterward.

PALAMON. By this good light, Had I a sword I would kill thee.

KEEPER. Why, my Lord?

PALAMON. Thou bringst such pelting scuruy news continually Thou art not worthy life. I will not goe.

KEEPER. Indeede, you must, my Lord.

PALAMON. May I see the garden?

KEEPER. Noe.

PALAMON. Then I am resolud, I will not goe.

KEEPER. I must constraine you then: and for you are dangerous, Ile clap more yrons on you.

PALAMON. Doe, good keeper. Ile shake ’em so, ye shall not sleepe; Ile make ye a new Morrisse: must I goe?

KEEPER. There is no remedy.

PALAMON. Farewell, kinde window. May rude winde never hurt thee. O, my Lady, If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was, Dreame how I suffer. Come; now bury me. [Exeunt Palamon, and Keeper.]

Scaena 3. (The country near Athens.)

[Enter Arcite.]

ARCITE. Banishd the kingdome? tis a benefit, A mercy I must thanke ’em for, but banishd 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 plucke upon me. Palamon, Thou ha’st the Start now, thou shalt stay and see Her bright eyes breake each morning gainst thy window, And let in life into thee; thou shalt feede Vpon the sweetenes of a noble beauty, That nature nev’r exceeded, nor nev’r shall: Good gods! what happines has Palamon! Twenty to one, hee’le come to speake to her, And if she be as gentle as she’s faire, I know she’s his; he has a Tongue will tame Tempests, and make the wild Rockes wanton. Come what can come, The worst is death; I will not leave the Kingdome. I know mine owne is but a heape of ruins, And no redresse there; if I goe, he has her. I am resolu’d an other shape shall make me, Or end my fortunes. Either way, I am happy: Ile see her, and be neere her, or no more.

[Enter 4. Country people, & one with a garlond before them.]

1. COUNTREYMAN My Masters, ile be there, that’s certaine

2. COUNTREYMAN And Ile be there.

3. COUNTREYMAN And I.

4. COUNTREYMAN Why, then, have with ye, Boyes; Tis but a chiding. Let the plough play to day, ile tick’lt out Of the Iades tailes to morrow.

1. COUNTREYMAN I am sure To have my wife as jealous as a Turkey: But that’s all one; ile goe through, let her mumble.

2. COUNTREYMAN Clap her aboard to morrow night, and stoa her, And all’s made up againe.

3. COUNTREYMAN I, doe but put a feskue 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. COUNTREYMAN Hold? what should aile us?

3. COUNTREYMAN Arcas will be there.

2. COUNTREYMAN And Sennois. And Rycas, and 3. better lads nev’r dancd Under green Tree. And yee know what wenches: ha? But will the dainty Domine, the Schoolemaster, Keep touch, doe you thinke? for he do’s all, ye know.

3. COUNTREYMAN Hee’l eate a hornebooke ere he faile: goe too, the matter’s too farre driven betweene him and the Tanners daughter, to let slip now, and she must see the Duke, and she must daunce too.

4. COUNTREYMAN Shall we be lusty?

2. COUNTREYMAN All the Boyes in Athens blow wind i’th breech on’s, and heere ile be and there ile be, for our Towne, and here againe, and there againe: ha, Boyes, heigh for the weavers.

1. COUNTREYMAN This must be done i’th woods.

4. COUNTREYMAN O, pardon me.

2. COUNTREYMAN By any meanes, our thing of learning saies so: Where he himselfe will edifie the Duke Most parlously in our behalfes: hees excellent i’th woods; Bring him to’th plaines, his learning makes no cry.

3. COUNTREYMAN Weele see the sports, then; every man to’s Tackle: And, Sweete Companions, lets rehearse by any meanes, Before the Ladies see us, and doe sweetly, And God knows what May come on’t.

4. COUNTREYMAN Content; the sports once ended, wee’l performe. Away, Boyes and hold.

ARCITE. By your leaves, honest friends: pray you, whither goe you?

4. COUNTREYMAN Whither? why, what a question’s that?

ARCITE. Yes, tis a question, to me that know not.

3. COUNTREYMAN To the Games, my Friend.

2. COUNTREYMAN Where were you bred, you know it not?

ARCITE. Not farre, Sir, Are there such Games to day?

1. COUNTREYMAN Yes, marry, are there: And such as you neuer saw; The Duke himselfe Will be in person there.

ARCITE. What pastimes are they?

2. COUNTREYMAN Wrastling, and Running.—Tis a pretty Fellow.

3. COUNTREYMAN Thou wilt not goe along?

ARCITE. Not yet, Sir.

4. COUNTREYMAN Well, Sir, Take your owne time: come, Boyes.

1. COUNTREYMAN My minde misgives me; This fellow has a veng’ance tricke o’th hip: Marke how his Bodi’s made for’t

2. COUNTREYMAN Ile be hangd, though, If he dare venture; hang him, plumb porredge, He wrastle? he rost eggs! Come, lets be gon, Lads. [Exeunt.]