Chapter 5
DAUGHTER. Wher’s my wedding Gowne?
BROTHER. Ile bring it to morrow.
DAUGHTER. Doe, very rarely; I must be abroad else To call the Maides, and pay the Minstrels, For I must loose my Maydenhead by cock-light; Twill never thrive else. [Singes.] O faire, oh sweete, &c.
BROTHER. You must ev’n take it patiently.
IAILOR. Tis true.
DAUGHTER. Good ev’n, good men; pray, did you ever heare Of one yong Palamon?
IAILOR. Yes, wench, we know him.
DAUGHTER. Is’t not a fine yong Gentleman?
IAILOR. Tis Love.
BROTHER. By no meane crosse her; she is then distemperd Far worse then now she showes.
1. FRIEND. Yes, he’s a fine man.
DAUGHTER. O, is he so? you have a Sister?
1. FRIEND. Yes.
DAUGHTER. But she shall never have him, tell her so, For a tricke that I know; y’had best looke to her, For if she see him once, she’s gone, she’s done, And undon in an howre. All the young Maydes Of our Towne are in love with him, but I laugh at ’em And let ’em all alone; Is’t not a wise course?
1. FRIEND. Yes.
DAUGHTER. There is at least two hundred now with child by him— There must be fowre; yet I keepe close for all this, Close as a Cockle; and all these must be Boyes, He has the tricke on’t, and at ten yeares old They must be all gelt for Musitians, And sing the wars of Theseus.
2. FRIEND. This is strange.
DAUGHTER. As ever you heard, but say nothing.
1. FRIEND. No.
DAUGHTER. They come from all parts of the Dukedome to him; Ile warrant ye, he had not so few last night As twenty to dispatch: hee’l tickl’t up In two howres, if his hand be in.
IAILOR. She’s lost Past all cure.
BROTHER. Heaven forbid, man.
DAUGHTER. Come hither, you are a wise man.
1. FRIEND. Do’s she know him?
2. FRIEND. No, would she did.
DAUGHTER. You are master of a Ship?
IAILOR. Yes.
DAUGHTER. Wher’s your Compasse?
IAILOR. Heere.
DAUGHTER. Set it too’th North. And now direct your course to’th wood, wher Palamon Lyes longing for me; For the Tackling Let me alone; Come, waygh, my hearts, cheerely!
ALL. Owgh, owgh, owgh, tis up, the wind’s faire, Top the Bowling, out with the maine saile; Wher’s your Whistle, Master?
BROTHER. Lets get her in.
IAILOR. Vp to the top, Boy.
BROTHER. Wher’s the Pilot?
1. FRIEND. Heere.
DAUGHTER. What ken’st thou?
2. FRIEND. A faire wood.
DAUGHTER. Beare for it, master: take about! [Singes.] When Cinthia with her borrowed light, &c. [Exeunt.]
Scaena 2. (A Room in the Palace.)
[Enter Emilia alone, with 2. Pictures.]
EMILIA. Yet I may binde those wounds up, that must open And bleed to death for my sake else; Ile choose, And end their strife: Two such yong hansom men Shall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers, Following the dead cold ashes of their Sonnes, Shall never curse my cruelty. Good heaven, What a sweet face has Arcite! if wise nature, With all her best endowments, all those beuties She sowes into the birthes of noble bodies, Were here a mortall woman, and had in her The coy denialls of yong Maydes, yet doubtles, She would run mad for this man: what an eye, Of what a fyry sparkle, and quick sweetnes, Has this yong Prince! Here Love himselfe sits smyling, Iust such another wanton Ganimead Set Jove a fire with, and enforcd 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 eyd Iuno’s, but far sweeter, Smoother then Pelops Shoulder! Fame and honour, Me thinks, 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 neere ’em. Palamon Is but his foyle, to him a meere dull shadow: Hee’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 sharpenes not a smile; Yet these that we count errours may become him: Narcissus was a sad Boy, but a heavenly:— Oh who can finde the bent of womans fancy? I am a Foole, my reason is lost in me; I have no choice, and I have ly’d so lewdly That women ought to beate me. On my knees I aske thy pardon, Palamon; thou art alone, And only beutifull, and these the eyes, These the bright lamps of beauty, that command And threaten Love, and what yong Mayd dare crosse ’em? What a bold gravity, and yet inviting, Has this browne manly face! O Love, this only From this howre is Complexion: Lye there, Arcite, Thou art a changling to him, a meere Gipsey, And this the noble Bodie. I am sotted, Vtterly 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 aske me, Brother.— Alas, I know not! Aske me now, sweet Sister;— I may goe looke. What a meere child is Fancie, That, having two faire gawdes of equall sweetnesse, Cannot distinguish, but must crie for both.
[Enter (a) Gent(leman.)]
EMILIA. How now, Sir?
GENTLEMAN. From the Noble Duke your Brother, Madam, I bring you newes: The Knights are come.
EMILIA. To end the quarrell?
GENTLEMAN. Yes.
EMILIA. Would I might end first: What sinnes have I committed, chast Diana, That my unspotted youth must now be soyld With blood of Princes? and my Chastitie 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 Beautie?
[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Perithous and attendants.]
THESEUS. Bring ’em in Quickly, By any meanes; I long to see ’em.— Your two contending Lovers are return’d, And with them their faire Knights: Now, my faire Sister, You must love one of them.
EMILIA. I had rather both, So neither for my sake should fall untimely.
[Enter Messenger. (Curtis.)]
THESEUS. Who saw ’em?
PERITHOUS. I, a while.
GENTLEMAN. And I.
THESEUS. From whence come you, Sir?
MESSENGER. From the Knights.
THESEUS. Pray, speake, You that have seene them, what they are.
MESSENGER. I will, Sir, And truly what I thinke: Six braver spirits Then these 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 lookes so say him) his complexion, Nearer a browne, than blacke, sterne, and yet noble, Which shewes him hardy, fearelesse, proud of dangers: The circles of his eyes show fire within him, And as a heated Lyon, so he lookes; His haire hangs long behind him, blacke and shining Like Ravens wings: his shoulders broad and strong, Armd long and round, and on his Thigh a Sword Hung by a curious Bauldricke, when he frownes To seale his will with: better, o’my conscience Was never Souldiers friend.
THESEUS. Thou ha’st well describde him.
PERITHOUS. Yet a great deale short, Me thinkes, of him that’s first with Palamon.
THESEUS. Pray, speake him, friend.
PERITHOUS. I ghesse he is a Prince too, And, if it may be, greater; for his show Has all the ornament of honour in’t: Hee’s somewhat bigger, then 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 owne: In’s face appeares All the faire hopes of what he undertakes, And when he’s angry, then a setled valour (Not tainted with extreames) runs through his body, And guides his arme to brave things: Feare he cannot, He shewes no such soft temper; his head’s yellow, Hard hayr’d, and curld, thicke twind like Ivy tods, Not to undoe with thunder; In his face The liverie of the warlike Maide appeares, Pure red, and white, for yet no beard has blest him. And in his rowling eyes sits victory, As if she ever ment to court his valour: His Nose stands high, a Character of honour. His red lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.
EMILIA. Must these men die too?
PERITHOUS. When he speakes, his tongue Sounds like a Trumpet; All his lyneaments Are as a man would wish ’em, strong and cleane, He weares a well-steeld Axe, the staffe of gold; His age some five and twenty.
MESSENGER. Ther’s another, A little man, but of a tough soule, seeming As great as any: fairer promises In such a Body yet I never look’d on.
PERITHOUS. O, he that’s freckle fac’d?
MESSENGER. The same, my Lord; Are they not sweet ones?
PERITHOUS. Yes, they are well.
MESSENGER. Me thinkes, Being so few, and well disposd, they show Great, and fine art in nature: he’s white hair’d, Not wanton white, but such a manly colour Next to an aborne; tough, and nimble set, Which showes an active soule; his armes are brawny, Linde with strong sinewes: To the shoulder peece Gently they swell, like women new conceav’d, Which speakes him prone to labour, never fainting Vnder the waight of Armes; stout harted, still, But when he stirs, a Tiger; he’s gray eyd, Which yeelds compassion where he conquers: sharpe To spy advantages, and where he finds ’em, He’s swift to make ’em his: He do’s no wrongs, Nor takes none; he’s round fac’d, and when he smiles He showes a Lover, when he frownes, a Souldier: About his head he weares the winners oke, And in it stucke the favour of his Lady: His age, some six and thirtie. In his hand He beares a charging Staffe, embost with silver.
THESEUS. Are they all thus?
PERITHOUS. They are all the sonnes of honour.
THESEUS. Now, as I have a soule, I long to see’em. Lady, you shall see men fight now.
HIPPOLITA. I wish it, But not the cause, my Lord; They would show Bravely about the Titles of two Kingdomes; Tis pitty Love should be so tyrannous: O my soft harted Sister, what thinke you? Weepe not, till they weepe blood, Wench; it must be.
THESEUS. You have steel’d ’em with your Beautie.—Honord Friend, To you I give the Feild; pray, order it Fitting the persons that must use it.
PERITHOUS. Yes, Sir.
THESEUS. Come, Ile goe visit ’em: I cannot stay, Their fame has fir’d me so; Till they appeare. Good Friend, be royall.
PERITHOUS. There shall want no bravery.
EMILIA. Poore wench, goe weepe, for whosoever wins, Looses a noble Cosen for thy sins. [Exeunt.]
Scaena 3. (A room in the prison.)
[Enter Iailor, Wooer, Doctor.]
DOCTOR. Her distraction is more at some time of the Moone, then at other some, is it not?
IAILOR. She is continually in a harmelesse distemper, sleepes little, altogether without appetite, save often drinking, dreaming of another world, and a better; and what broken peece of matter so’ere she’s about, the name Palamon lardes it, that she farces ev’ry busines withall, fyts it to every question.—
[Enter Daughter.]
Looke where shee comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.
DAUGHTER. I have forgot it quite; The burden on’t, was DOWNE A, DOWNE A, and pend by no worse man, then Giraldo, Emilias Schoolemaster; he’s as Fantasticall 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 Eneas.
DOCTOR. What stuff’s here? pore soule!
IAILOR. Ev’n thus all day long.
DAUGHTER. Now for this Charme, that I told you of: you must bring a peece of silver on the tip of your tongue, or no ferry: then, if it be your chance to come where the blessed spirits, as ther’s a sight now—we maids that have our Lyvers perish’d, crakt to peeces with Love, we shall come there, and doe nothing all day long but picke flowers with Proserpine; then will I make Palamon a Nosegay; then let him marke me,—then—
DOCTOR. How prettily she’s amisse? note her a little further.
DAUGHTER. Faith, ile tell you, sometime we goe to Barly breake, we of the blessed; alas, tis a sore life they have i’th other place, such burning, frying, boyling, hissing, howling, chattring, cursing, oh they have shrowd measure! take heede; if one be mad, or hang or drowne themselves, thither they goe, Iupiter blesse vs, and there shall we be put in a Caldron of lead, and Vsurers grease, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boyle like a Gamon of Bacon that will never be enough. [Exit.]
DOCTOR. How her braine coynes!
DAUGHTER. Lords and Courtiers, that have got maids with Child, they are in this place: they shall stand in fire up to the Nav’le, and in yce up to’th hart, and there th’offending part burnes, and the deceaving part freezes; in troth, a very greevous punishment, as one would thinke, for such a Trifle; beleve me, one would marry a leaprous witch, to be rid on’t, Ile assure you.
DOCTOR. How she continues this fancie! Tis not an engraffed Madnesse, but a most thicke, and profound mellencholly.
DAUGHTER. To heare there a proud Lady, and a proud Citty wiffe, howle together! I were a beast and il’d call it good sport: one cries, ‘O this smoake!’ another, ‘this fire!’ One cries, ‘O, that ever I did it behind the arras!’ and then howles; th’other curses a suing fellow and her garden house. [Sings] I will be true, my stars, my fate, &c. [Exit Daugh.]
IAILOR. What thinke you of her, Sir?
DOCTOR. I thinke she has a perturbed minde, which I cannot minister to.
IAILOR. Alas, what then?
DOCTOR. Vnderstand you, she ever affected any man, ere she beheld Palamon?
IAILOR. I was once, Sir, in great hope she had fixd her liking on this gentleman, my friend.
WOOER. I did thinke so too, and would account I had a great pen-worth on’t, to give halfe my state, that both she and I at this present stood unfainedly on the same tearmes.
DOCTOR. That intemprat surfeit of her eye hath distemperd the other sences: they may returne and settle againe to execute their preordaind faculties, but they are now in a most extravagant vagary. This you must doe: Confine her to a place, where the light may rather seeme to steale in, then be permitted; take vpon you (yong Sir, her friend) the name of Palamon; say you come to eate with her, and to commune of Love; this will catch her attention, for this her minde beates upon; other objects that are inserted tweene her minde and eye become the prankes and friskins of her madnes; Sing to her such greene songs of Love, as she sayes Palamon hath sung in prison; Come to her, stucke in as sweet flowers as the season is mistres of, and thereto make an addition of som other compounded odours, which are grateful to the sence: all this shall become Palamon, for Palamon can sing, and Palamon is sweet, and ev’ry good thing: desire to eate with her, carve her, drinke to her, and still among, intermingle your petition of grace and acceptance into her favour: Learne what Maides have beene her companions and play-pheeres, and let them repaire to her with Palamon in their mouthes, and appeare with tokens, as if they suggested for him. It is a falsehood she is in, which is with falsehood to be combated. This may bring her to eate, to sleepe, and reduce what’s now out of square in her, into their former law, and regiment; I have seene it approved, how many times I know not, but to make the number more, I have great hope in this. I will, betweene the passages of this project, come in with my applyance: Let us put it in execution, and hasten the successe, which, doubt not, will bring forth comfort. [Florish. Exeunt.]
Actus Quintus
Scaena 1. (Before the Temples of Mars, Venus, and Diana.)
[Enter Thesius, Perithous, Hipolita, attendants.]
THESEUS. Now let’em enter, and before the gods Tender their holy prayers: Let the Temples Burne bright with sacred fires, and the Altars In hallowed clouds commend their swelling Incense To those above us: Let no due be wanting; [Florish of Cornets.] They have a noble worke in hand, will honour The very powers that love ’em.
[Enter Palamon and Arcite, and their Knights.]
PERITHOUS. Sir, they enter.
THESEUS. You valiant and strong harted Enemies, You royall German foes, that this day come To blow that furnesse out that flames betweene ye: Lay by your anger for an houre, and dove-like, Before the holy Altars of your helpers, (The all feard gods) bow downe your stubborne bodies. Your ire is more than mortall; So your helpe be, And as the gods regard ye, fight with Iustice; Ile leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye I part my wishes.
PERITHOUS. Honour crowne the worthiest. [Exit Theseus, and his traine.]
PALAMON. The glasse is running now that cannot finish Till one of us expire: Thinke you but thus, That were there ought in me which strove to show Mine enemy in this businesse, wer’t one eye Against another, Arme opprest by Arme, I would destroy th’offender, Coz, I would, Though parcell of my selfe: Then from this gather How I should tender you.
ARCITE. I am in labour To push your name, your auncient love, our kindred Out of my memory; and i’th selfe same place To seate something I would confound: So hoyst we The sayles, that must these vessells port even where The heavenly Lymiter pleases.
PALAMON. You speake well; Before I turne, Let me embrace thee, Cosen: This I shall never doe agen.
ARCITE. One farewell.
PALAMON. Why, let it be so: Farewell, Coz. [Exeunt Palamon and his Knights.]
ARCITE. Farewell, Sir.— Knights, Kinsemen, Lovers, yea, my Sacrifices, True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you Expells the seedes of feare, and th’apprehension Which still is farther off it, Goe with me Before the god of our profession: There Require of him the hearts of Lyons, and The breath of Tigers, yea, the fearcenesse too, Yea, the speed also,—to goe on, I meane, Else wish we to be Snayles: you know my prize Must be drag’d out of blood; force and great feate Must put my Garland on, where she stickes The Queene of Flowers: our intercession then Must be to him that makes the Campe a Cestron Brymd with the blood of men: give me your aide And bend your spirits towards him. [They kneele.] Thou mighty one, that with thy power hast turnd Greene Neptune into purple, (whose Approach) Comets prewarne, whose havocke in vaste Feild Vnearthed skulls proclaime, whose breath blowes downe, The teeming Ceres foyzon, who doth plucke With hand armypotent from forth blew clowdes The masond Turrets, that both mak’st and break’st The stony girthes of Citties: me thy puple, Yongest follower of thy Drom, instruct this day With military skill, that to thy lawde I may advance my Streamer, and by thee, Be stil’d the Lord o’th day: give me, great Mars, Some token of thy pleasure.
[Here they fall on their faces as formerly, and there is heard clanging of Armor, with a short Thunder as the burst of a Battaile, whereupon they all rise and bow to the Altar.]
O Great Corrector of enormous times, Shaker of ore-rank States, thou grand decider Of dustie and old tytles, that healst with blood The earth when it is sicke, and curst the world O’th pluresie of people; I doe take Thy signes auspiciously, and in thy name To my designe march boldly. Let us goe. [Exeunt.]
[Enter Palamon and his Knights, with the former observance.]
PALAMON. Our stars must glister with new fire, or be To daie extinct; our argument is love, Which if the goddesse of it grant, she gives Victory too: then blend your spirits with mine, You, whose free noblenesse doe make my cause Your personall hazard; to the goddesse Venus Commend we our proceeding, and implore Her power unto our partie. [Here they kneele as formerly.] Haile, Soveraigne Queene of secrets, who hast power To call the feircest Tyrant from his rage, And weepe unto a Girle; that ha’st the might, Even with an ey-glance, to choke Marsis Drom And turne th’allarme to whispers; that canst make A Criple florish with his Crutch, and cure him Before Apollo; that may’st force the King To be his subjects vassaile, and induce Stale gravitie to daunce; the pould Bachelour— Whose youth, like wonton Boyes through Bonfyres, Have skipt thy flame—at seaventy thou canst catch And make him, to the scorne of his hoarse throate, Abuse yong laies of love: what godlike power Hast thou not power upon? To Phoebus thou Add’st flames hotter then his; the heavenly fyres Did scortch his mortall Son, thine him; the huntresse All moyst and cold, some say, began to throw Her Bow away, and sigh. Take to thy grace Me, thy vowd Souldier, who doe beare thy yoke As t’wer a wreath of Roses, yet is heavier Then Lead it selfe, stings more than Nettles. I have never beene foule mouthd against thy law, Nev’r reveald secret, for I knew none—would not, Had I kend all that were; I never practised Vpon mans wife, nor would the Libells reade Of liberall wits; I never at great feastes Sought to betray a Beautie, but have blush’d At simpring Sirs that did; I have beene harsh To large Confessors, and have hotly ask’d them If they had Mothers: I had one, a woman, And women t’wer they wrong’d. I knew a man Of eightie winters, this I told them, who A Lasse of foureteene brided; twas thy power To put life into dust; the aged Crampe Had screw’d his square foote round, The Gout had knit his fingers into knots, Torturing Convulsions from his globie eyes, Had almost drawne their spheeres, that what was life In him seem’d torture: this Anatomie Had by his yong faire pheare a Boy, and I Beleev’d it was him, for she swore it was, And who would not beleeve her? briefe, I am To those that prate and have done no Companion; To those that boast and have not a defyer; To those that would and cannot a Rejoycer. Yea, him I doe not love, that tells close offices The fowlest way, nor names concealements in The boldest language: such a one I am, And vow that lover never yet made sigh Truer then I. O, then, most soft, sweet goddesse, Give me the victory of this question, which Is true loves merit, and blesse me with a signe Of thy great pleasure.
[Here Musicke is heard, Doves are seene to flutter; they fall againe upon their faces, then on their knees.]
PALAMON. O thou, that from eleven to ninetie raign’st In mortall bosomes, whose chase is this world, And we in heards thy game: I give thee thankes For this faire Token, which, being layd unto Mine innocent true heart, armes in assurance [They bow.] My body to this businesse. Let us rise And bow before the goddesse: Time comes on. [Exeunt.]
[Still Musicke of Records.]
[Enter Emilia in white, her haire about her shoulders, (wearing) a wheaten wreath: One in white holding up her traine, her haire stucke with flowers: One before her carrying a silver Hynde, in which is conveyd Incense and sweet odours, which being set upon the Altar (of Diana) her maides standing a loofe, she sets fire to it; then they curtsey and kneele.]
EMILIA. O sacred, shadowie, cold and constant Queene, Abandoner of Revells, mute, contemplative, Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure As windefand Snow, who to thy femall knights Alow’st no more blood than will make a blush, Which is their orders robe: I heere, thy Priest, Am humbled fore thine Altar; O vouchsafe, With that thy rare greene eye, which never yet Beheld thing maculate, looke on thy virgin; And, sacred silver Mistris, lend thine eare (Which nev’r heard scurrill terme, into whose port Ne’re entred wanton found,) to my petition Seasond with holy feare: This is my last Of vestall office; I am bride habited, But mayden harted, a husband I have pointed, But doe not know him; out of two I should Choose one and pray for his successe, but I Am guiltlesse of election: of mine eyes, Were I to loose one, they are equall precious, I could doombe neither, that which perish’d should Goe too’t unsentenc’d: Therefore, most modest Queene, He of the two Pretenders, that best loves me And has the truest title in’t, Let him Take off my wheaten Gerland, or else grant The fyle and qualitie I hold, I may Continue in thy Band.
[Here the Hynde vanishes under the Altar: and in the place ascends a Rose Tree, having one Rose upon it.]
See what our Generall of Ebbs and Flowes Out from the bowells of her holy Altar With sacred act advances! But one Rose: If well inspird, this Battaile shal confound Both these brave Knights, and I, a virgin flowre Must grow alone unpluck’d.
[Here is heard a sodaine twang of Instruments, and the Rose fals from the Tree (which vanishes under the altar.)]