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.)]

The flowre is falne, the Tree descends: O, Mistris, Thou here dischargest me; I shall be gather'd: I thinke so, but I know not thine owne will; Vnclaspe thy Misterie.—I hope she's pleas'd, Her Signes were gratious. [They curtsey and Exeunt.]



Scaena 2. (A darkened Room in the Prison.)

[Enter Doctor, Iaylor and Wooer, in habite of Palamon.]

DOCTOR.

Has this advice I told you, done any good upon her?

WOOER.

O very much; The maids that kept her company Have halfe perswaded her that I am Palamon; Within this halfe houre she came smiling to me, And asked me what I would eate, and when I would kisse her: I told her presently, and kist her twice.

DOCTOR.

Twas well done; twentie times had bin far better, For there the cure lies mainely.

WOOER.

Then she told me She would watch with me to night, for well she knew What houre my fit would take me.

DOCTOR.

Let her doe so, And when your fit comes, fit her home, And presently.

WOOER.

She would have me sing.

DOCTOR.

You did so?

WOOER.

No.

DOCTOR.

Twas very ill done, then; You should observe her ev'ry way.

WOOER.

Alas, I have no voice, Sir, to confirme her that way.

DOCTOR.

That's all one, if yee make a noyse; If she intreate againe, doe any thing,— Lye with her, if she aske you.

IAILOR.

Hoa, there, Doctor!

DOCTOR.

Yes, in the waie of cure.

IAILOR.

But first, by your leave, I'th way of honestie.

DOCTOR.

That's but a nicenesse, Nev'r cast your child away for honestie; Cure her first this way, then if shee will be honest, She has the path before her.

IAILOR.

Thanke yee, Doctor.

DOCTOR.

Pray, bring her in, And let's see how shee is.

IAILOR.

I will, and tell her Her Palamon staies for her: But, Doctor, Me thinkes you are i'th wrong still. [Exit Iaylor.]

DOCTOR.

Goe, goe: You Fathers are fine Fooles: her honesty? And we should give her physicke till we finde that—

WOOER.

Why, doe you thinke she is not honest, Sir?

DOCTOR.

How old is she?

WOOER.

She's eighteene.

DOCTOR.

She may be, But that's all one; tis nothing to our purpose. What ere her Father saies, if you perceave Her moode inclining that way that I spoke of, Videlicet, the way of flesh—you have me?

WOOER.

Yet, very well, Sir.

DOCTOR.

Please her appetite, And doe it home; it cures her, ipso facto, The mellencholly humour that infects her.

WOOER.

I am of your minde, Doctor.

[Enter Iaylor, Daughter, Maide.]

DOCTOR.

You'l finde it so; she comes, pray humour her.

IAILOR.

Come, your Love Palamon staies for you, childe, And has done this long houre, to visite you.

DAUGHTER.

I thanke him for his gentle patience; He's a kind Gentleman, and I am much bound to him. Did you nev'r see the horse he gave me?

IAILOR.

Yes.

DAUGHTER.

How doe you like him?

IAILOR.

He's a very faire one.

DAUGHTER.

You never saw him dance?

IAILOR.

No.

DAUGHTER.

I have often. He daunces very finely, very comely, And for a Iigge, come cut and long taile to him, He turnes ye like a Top.

IAILOR.

That's fine, indeede.

DAUGHTER.

Hee'l dance the Morris twenty mile an houre, And that will founder the best hobby-horse (If I have any skill) in all the parish, And gallops to the turne of LIGHT A' LOVE: What thinke you of this horse?

IAILOR.

Having these vertues, I thinke he might be broght to play at Tennis.

DAUGHTER.

Alas, that's nothing.

IAILOR.

Can he write and reade too?

DAUGHTER.

A very faire hand, and casts himselfe th'accounts Of all his hay and provender: That Hostler Must rise betime that cozens him. You know The Chestnut Mare the Duke has?

IAILOR.

Very well.

DAUGHTER.

She is horribly in love with him, poore beast, But he is like his master, coy and scornefull.

IAILOR.

What dowry has she?

DAUGHTER.

Some two hundred Bottles, And twenty strike of Oates; but hee'l ne're have her; He lispes in's neighing, able to entice A Millars Mare: Hee'l be the death of her.

DOCTOR.

What stuffe she utters!

IAILOR.

Make curtsie; here your love comes.

WOOER.

Pretty soule, How doe ye? that's a fine maide, ther's a curtsie!

DAUGHTER.

Yours to command ith way of honestie. How far is't now to'th end o'th world, my Masters?

DOCTOR.

Why, a daies Iorney, wench.

DAUGHTER.

Will you goe with me?

WOOER.

What shall we doe there, wench?

DAUGHTER.

Why, play at stoole ball: What is there else to doe?

WOOER.

I am content, If we shall keepe our wedding there.

DAUGHTER.

Tis true: For there, I will assure you, we shall finde Some blind Priest for the purpose, that will venture To marry us, for here they are nice, and foolish; Besides, my father must be hang'd to morrow And that would be a blot i'th businesse. Are not you Palamon?

WOOER.

Doe not you know me?

DAUGHTER.

Yes, but you care not for me; I have nothing But this pore petticoate, and too corse Smockes.

WOOER.

That's all one; I will have you.

DAUGHTER.

Will you surely?

WOOER.

Yes, by this faire hand, will I.

DAUGHTER.

Wee'l to bed, then.

WOOER.

Ev'n when you will. [Kisses her.]

DAUGHTER.

O Sir, you would faine be nibling.

WOOER.

Why doe you rub my kisse off?

DAUGHTER.

Tis a sweet one, And will perfume me finely against the wedding. Is not this your Cosen Arcite?

DOCTOR.

Yes, sweet heart, And I am glad my Cosen Palamon Has made so faire a choice.

DAUGHTER.

Doe you thinke hee'l have me?

DOCTOR.

Yes, without doubt.

DAUGHTER.

Doe you thinke so too?

IAILOR.

Yes.

DAUGHTER.

We shall have many children:—Lord, how y'ar growne! My Palamon, I hope, will grow, too, finely, Now he's at liberty: Alas, poore Chicken, He was kept downe with hard meate and ill lodging, But ile kisse him up againe.

[Emter a Messenger.]

MESSENGER.

What doe you here? you'l loose the noblest sight That ev'r was seene.

IAILOR.

Are they i'th Field?

MESSENGER.

They are. You beare a charge there too.

IAILOR.

Ile away straight. I must ev'n leave you here.

DOCTOR.

Nay, wee'l goe with you; I will not loose the Fight.

IAILOR.

How did you like her?

DOCTOR.

Ile warrant you, within these 3. or 4. daies Ile make her right againe. You must not from her, But still preserve her in this way.

WOOER.

I will.

DOCTOR.

Lets get her in.

WOOER.

Come, sweete, wee'l goe to dinner; And then weele play at Cardes.

DAUGHTER.

And shall we kisse too?

WOOER.

A hundred times.

DAUGHTER.

And twenty.

WOOER.

I, and twenty.

DAUGHTER.

And then wee'l sleepe together.

DOCTOR.

Take her offer.

WOOER.

Yes, marry, will we.

DAUGHTER.

But you shall not hurt me.

WOOER.

I will not, sweete.

DAUGHTER.

If you doe, Love, ile cry. [Florish. Exeunt]



Scaena 3. (A Place near the Lists.)

[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Perithous: and some Attendants, (T. Tucke: Curtis.)]

EMILIA.

Ile no step further.

PERITHOUS.

Will you loose this sight?

EMILIA.

I had rather see a wren hawke at a fly Then this decision; ev'ry blow that falls Threats a brave life, each stroake laments The place whereon it fals, and sounds more like A Bell then blade: I will stay here; It is enough my hearing shall be punishd With what shall happen—gainst the which there is No deaffing, but to heare—not taint mine eye With dread sights, it may shun.

PERITHOUS.

Sir, my good Lord, Your Sister will no further.

THESEUS.

Oh, she must. She shall see deeds of honour in their kinde, Which sometime show well, pencild. Nature now Shall make and act the Story, the beleife Both seald with eye and eare; you must be present, You are the victours meede, the price, and garlond To crowne the Questions title.

EMILIA.

Pardon me; If I were there, I'ld winke.

THESEUS.

You must be there; This Tryall is as t'wer i'th night, and you The onely star to shine.

EMILIA.

I am extinct; There is but envy in that light, which showes The one the other: darkenes, which ever was The dam of horrour, who do's stand accurst Of many mortall Millions, may even now, By casting her blacke mantle over both, That neither coulde finde other, get her selfe Some part of a good name, and many a murther Set off wherto she's guilty.

HIPPOLITA.

You must goe.

EMILIA.

In faith, I will not.

THESEUS.

Why, the knights must kindle Their valour at your eye: know, of this war You are the Treasure, and must needes be by To give the Service pay.

EMILIA.

Sir, pardon me; The tytle of a kingdome may be tride Out of it selfe.

THESEUS.

Well, well, then, at your pleasure; Those that remaine with you could wish their office To any of their Enemies.

HIPPOLITA.

Farewell, Sister; I am like to know your husband fore your selfe By some small start of time: he whom the gods Doe of the two know best, I pray them he Be made your Lot.

[Exeunt Theseus, Hipolita, Perithous, &c.]

EMILIA.

Arcite is gently visagd; yet his eye Is like an Engyn bent, or a sharpe weapon In a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage Are bedfellowes in his visage. Palamon Has a most menacing aspect: his brow Is grav'd, and seemes to bury what it frownes on; Yet sometime tis not so, but alters to The quallity of his thoughts; long time his eye Will dwell upon his object. Mellencholly Becomes him nobly; So do's Arcites mirth, But Palamons sadnes is a kinde of mirth, So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad, And sadnes, merry; those darker humours that Sticke misbecomingly on others, on them Live in faire dwelling. [Cornets. Trompets sound as to a charge.] Harke, how yon spurs to spirit doe incite The Princes to their proofe! Arcite may win me, And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to The spoyling of his figure. O, what pitty Enough for such a chance; if I were by, I might doe hurt, for they would glance their eies Toward my Seat, and in that motion might Omit a ward, or forfeit an offence Which crav'd that very time: it is much better I am not there; oh better never borne Then minister to such harme. [Cornets. A great cry and noice within, crying 'a Palamon'.] What is the chance?

[Enter Servant.]

SERVANT.

The Crie's 'a Palamon'.

EMILIA.

Then he has won! Twas ever likely; He lookd all grace and successe, and he is Doubtlesse the prim'st of men: I pre'thee, run And tell me how it goes. [Showt, and Cornets: Crying, 'a Palamon.']

SERVANT.

Still Palamon.

EMILIA.

Run and enquire. Poore Servant, thou hast lost; Vpon my right side still I wore thy picture, Palamons on the left: why so, I know not; I had no end in't else, chance would have it so. On the sinister side the heart lyes; Palamon Had the best boding chance. [Another cry, and showt within, and Cornets.] This burst of clamour Is sure th'end o'th Combat.

[Enter Servant.]

SERVANT.

They saide that Palamon had Arcites body Within an inch o'th Pyramid, that the cry Was generall 'a Palamon': But, anon, Th'Assistants made a brave redemption, and The two bold Tytlers, at this instant are Hand to hand at it.

EMILIA.

Were they metamorphisd Both into one! oh why? there were no woman Worth so composd a Man: their single share, Their noblenes peculier to them, gives The prejudice of disparity, values shortnes, [Cornets. Cry within, Arcite, Arcite.] To any Lady breathing—More exulting? Palamon still?

SERVANT.

Nay, now the sound is Arcite.

EMILIA.

I pre'thee, lay attention to the Cry, [Cornets. A great showt and cry, 'Arcite, victory!'] Set both thine eares to'th busines.

SERVANT.

The cry is 'Arcite', and 'victory', harke: 'Arcite, victory!' The Combats consummation is proclaim'd By the wind Instruments.

EMILIA.

Halfe sights saw That Arcite was no babe; god's lyd, his richnes And costlines of spirit look't through him, it could No more be hid in him then fire in flax, Then humble banckes can goe to law with waters, That drift windes force to raging: I did thinke Good Palamon would miscarry; yet I knew not Why I did thinke so; Our reasons are not prophets, When oft our fancies are. They are comming off: Alas, poore Palamon! [Cornets.]

[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Arcite as victor, and attendants, &c.]

THESEUS.

Lo, where our Sister is in expectation, Yet quaking, and unsetled.—Fairest Emily, The gods by their divine arbitrament Have given you this Knight; he is a good one As ever strooke at head. Give me your hands; Receive you her, you him; be plighted with A love that growes, as you decay.

ARCITE.

Emily, To buy you, I have lost what's deerest to me, Save what is bought, and yet I purchase cheapely, As I doe rate your value.

THESEUS.

O loved Sister, He speakes now of as brave a Knight as ere Did spur a noble Steed: Surely, the gods Would have him die a Batchelour, least his race Should shew i'th world too godlike: His behaviour So charmed me, that me thought Alcides was To him a sow of lead: if I could praise Each part of him to'th all I have spoke, your Arcite Did not loose by't; For he that was thus good Encountred yet his Better. I have heard Two emulous Philomels beate the eare o'th night With their contentious throates, now one the higher, Anon the other, then againe the first, And by and by out breasted, that the sence Could not be judge betweene 'em: So it far'd Good space betweene these kinesmen; till heavens did Make hardly one the winner. Weare the Girlond With joy that you have won: For the subdude, Give them our present Iustice, since I know Their lives but pinch 'em; Let it here be done. The Sceane's not for our seeing, goe we hence, Right joyfull, with some sorrow.—Arme your prize, I know you will not loose her.—Hipolita, I see one eye of yours conceives a teare The which it will deliver. [Florish.]

EMILIA.

Is this wynning? Oh all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy? But that your wils have saide it must be so, And charge me live to comfort this unfriended, This miserable Prince, that cuts away A life more worthy from him then all women, I should, and would, die too.

HIPPOLITA.

Infinite pitty, That fowre such eies should be so fixd on one That two must needes be blinde fort.

THESEUS.

So it is. [Exeunt.]



Scaena 4. (The same; a Block prepared.)

[Enter Palamon and his Knightes pyniond: Iaylor, Executioner, &c. Gard.]

(PALAMON.)

Ther's many a man alive that hath out liv'd The love o'th people; yea, i'th selfesame state Stands many a Father with his childe; some comfort We have by so considering: we expire And not without mens pitty. To live still, Have their good wishes; we prevent The loathsome misery of age, beguile The Gowt and Rheume, that in lag howres attend For grey approachers; we come towards the gods Yong and unwapper'd, not halting under Crymes Many and stale: that sure shall please the gods, Sooner than such, to give us Nectar with 'em, For we are more cleare Spirits. My deare kinesmen, Whose lives (for this poore comfort) are laid downe, You have sould 'em too too cheape.

1. KNIGHT.

What ending could be Of more content? ore us the victors have Fortune, whose title is as momentary, As to us death is certaine: A graine of honour They not ore'-weigh us.

2. KNIGHT.

Let us bid farewell; And with our patience anger tottring Fortune, Who at her certain'st reeles.

3. KNIGHT.

Come; who begins?

PALAMON.

Ev'n he that led you to this Banket shall Taste to you all.—Ah ha, my Friend, my Friend, Your gentle daughter gave me freedome once; You'l see't done now for ever: pray, how do'es she? I heard she was not well; her kind of ill Gave me some sorrow.

IAILOR.

Sir, she's well restor'd, And to be marryed shortly.

PALAMON.

By my short life, I am most glad on't; Tis the latest thing I shall be glad of; pre'thee tell her so: Commend me to her, and to peece her portion, Tender her this. [Gives purse.]

1. KNIGHT.

Nay lets be offerers all.

2. KNIGHT.

Is it a maide?

PALAMON.

Verily, I thinke so, A right good creature, more to me deserving Then I can quight or speake of.

ALL KNIGHTS.

Commend us to her. [They give their purses.]

IAILOR.

The gods requight you all, And make her thankefull.

PALAMON.

Adiew; and let my life be now as short, As my leave taking. [Lies on the Blocke.]

1. KNIGHT.

Leade, couragious Cosin.

2. KNIGHT.

Wee'l follow cheerefully. [A great noise within crying, 'run, save, hold!']

[Enter in hast a Messenger.]

MESSENGER.

Hold, hold! O hold, hold, hold!

[Enter Pirithous in haste.]

PERITHOUS.

Hold! hoa! It is a cursed hast you made, If you have done so quickly. Noble Palamon, The gods will shew their glory in a life, That thou art yet to leade.

PALAMON.

Can that be, When Venus, I have said, is false? How doe things fare?

PERITHOUS.

Arise, great Sir, and give the tydings eare That are most dearly sweet and bitter.

PALAMON.

What Hath wakt us from our dreame?

PERITHOUS.

List then: your Cosen, Mounted upon a Steed that Emily Did first bestow on him, a blacke one, owing Not a hayre worth of white—which some will say Weakens his price, and many will not buy His goodnesse with this note: Which superstition Heere findes allowance—On this horse is Arcite Trotting the stones of Athens, which the Calkins Did rather tell then trample; for the horse Would make his length a mile, if't pleas'd his Rider To put pride in him: as he thus went counting The flinty pavement, dancing, as t'wer, to'th Musicke His owne hoofes made; (for as they say from iron Came Musickes origen) what envious Flint, Cold as old Saturne, and like him possest With fire malevolent, darted a Sparke, Or what feirce sulphur else, to this end made, I comment not;—the hot horse, hot as fire, Tooke Toy at this, and fell to what disorder His power could give his will; bounds, comes on end, Forgets schoole dooing, being therein traind, And of kind mannadge; pig-like he whines At the sharpe Rowell, which he freats at rather Then any jot obaies; seekes all foule meanes Of boystrous and rough Iadrie, to dis-seate His Lord, that kept it bravely: when nought serv'd, When neither Curb would cracke, girth breake nor diffring plunges Dis-roote his Rider whence he grew, but that He kept him tweene his legges, on his hind hoofes on end he stands, That Arcites leggs, being higher then his head, Seem'd with strange art to hand: His victors wreath Even then fell off his head: and presently Backeward the Iade comes ore, and his full poyze Becomes the Riders loade: yet is he living, But such a vessell tis, that floates but for The surge that next approaches: he much desires To have some speech with you: Loe he appeares.

[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Arcite in a chaire.]

PALAMON.

O miserable end of our alliance! The gods are mightie, Arcite: if thy heart, Thy worthie, manly heart, be yet unbroken, Give me thy last words; I am Palamon, One that yet loves thee dying.

ARCITE.

Take Emilia And with her all the worlds joy: Reach thy hand: Farewell: I have told my last houre. I was false, Yet never treacherous: Forgive me, Cosen:— One kisse from faire Emilia: Tis done: Take her: I die.

PALAMON.

Thy brave soule seeke Elizium.

EMILIA.

Ile close thine eyes, Prince; blessed soules be with thee! Thou art a right good man, and while I live, This day I give to teares.

PALAMON.

And I to honour.

THESEUS.

In this place first you fought: ev'n very here I sundred you: acknowledge to the gods Our thankes that you are living. His part is playd, and though it were too short, He did it well: your day is lengthned, and The blissefull dew of heaven do's arowze you. The powerfull Venus well hath grac'd her Altar, And given you your love: Our Master Mars Hath vouch'd his Oracle, and to Arcite gave The grace of the Contention: So the Deities Have shewd due justice: Beare this hence.

PALAMON.

O Cosen, That we should things desire, which doe cost us The losse of our desire! That nought could buy Deare love, but losse of deare love!

THESEUS.

Never Fortune Did play a subtler Game: The conquerd triumphes, The victor has the Losse: yet in the passage The gods have beene most equall: Palamon, Your kinseman hath confest the right o'th Lady Did lye in you, for you first saw her, and Even then proclaimd your fancie: He restord her As your stolne Iewell, and desir'd your spirit To send him hence forgiven; The gods my justice Take from my hand, and they themselves become The Executioners: Leade your Lady off; And call your Lovers from the stage of death, Whom I adopt my Frinds. A day or two Let us looke sadly, and give grace unto The Funerall of Arcite; in whose end The visages of Bridegroomes weele put on And smile with Palamon; for whom an houre, But one houre, since, I was as dearely sorry, As glad of Arcite: and am now as glad, As for him sorry. O you heavenly Charmers, What things you make of us! For what we lacke We laugh, for what we have, are sorry: still Are children in some kind. Let us be thankefull For that which is, and with you leave dispute That are above our question. Let's goe off, And beare us like the time. [Florish. Exeunt.]



EPILOGVE

I would now aske ye how ye like the Play, But, as it is with Schoole Boyes, cannot say, I am cruell fearefull: pray, yet stay a while, And let me looke upon ye: No man smile? Then it goes hard, I see; He that has Lov'd a yong hansome wench, then, show his face— Tis strange if none be heere—and if he will Against his Conscience, let him hisse, and kill Our Market: Tis in vaine, I see, to stay yee; Have at the worst can come, then! Now what say ye? And yet mistake me not: I am not bold; We have no such cause. If the tale we have told (For tis no other) any way content ye (For to that honest purpose it was ment ye) We have our end; and ye shall have ere long, I dare say, many a better, to prolong Your old loves to us: we, and all our might Rest at your service. Gentlemen, good night. [Florish.]

FINIS