Though the story of the siege of Thebes is pervasive in classical Greek and Latin literature, the playwrights relied on a medieval accretion to it. Chaucer’s version of the perplexities of the Theban cousins Palamon and Arcite in their rivalry for the love of Emilia, sister of the Amazon queen Hippolyta, bride of Theseus, is assigned to the Knight in The Canterbury Tales (c. 1385). Chaucer got the story from the Teseida of Giovanni Boccaccio (?late 1340s), behind which lies the Thebaid of Statius. Shakespeare had earlier used The Knight’s Tale for his treatment of Theseus and Hippolyta in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Like Chaucer’s tale, the play sets up a series of moral and emotional dilemmas for its characters. Should Theseus proceed with his wedding, or postpone it until he has avenged the widowed queens? Should Palamon and Arcite fight for their native Thebes, or flee from the corruptions of its king, their uncle Creon? Should their friendship prevail over their rivalry in love for Emilia? Should the Jailer’s daughter free Palamon at the risk of her father’s life? Should Emilia choose between marriage and virginity – or between her equally unknown and unwelcome suitors? The struggles of the characters to resolve these dilemmas culminate in a scene, adapted from Chaucer, in which Arcite, Palamon and Emilia in turn invoke their tutelary gods, Mars, Venus and Diana. Thereafter, we increasingly see them as pawns in a divine chess-game. The outcome, in which accidental death robs Arcite of his victory in combat and leaves Emilia to the disconsolate Palamon, is well characterized by Emilia’s cry, ‘Is this winning?’ Meanwhile the destructive passion of the Jailer’s daughter for Palamon moves through suicidal despair and madness to the apparent possibility of transference to her faithful Wooer by a therapy involving sexual relations with him under the pretence that he is Palamon. It is unclear how fully audiences are invited to endorse the statement of Theseus that ‘in the passage / The gods have been most equal’, or his determinist conclusion,
That are above our question.
The tone of the play varies sharply between elegaic solemnity and a brittle, even cynical, detachment. Since the 1970s, stage productions have proliferated after centuries of relative neglect. The play offers a powerful portrayal of the predicaments of women in a male-dominated world, and its unhappy open-endedness is congruous with the chastened mood of the turn of the century.
The 1997 Arden text is based on the 1634 Quarto.
BOY [Sings.] |
|
Roses, their sharp spines being gone, |
|
Not royal in their smells alone |
|
But in their hue; |
|
Maiden pinks of odour faint, |
|
Daisies smell-less yet most quaint, |
5 |
And sweet thyme true; |
|
Primrose, first-born child of Ver, |
|
Merry springtime’s harbinger, |
|
With harebells dim, |
|
Oxlips in their cradles growing, |
10 |
Marigolds on deathbeds blowing, |
|
Lark’s-heels trim: [Strews flowers.] |
|
All dear Nature’s children sweet |
|
Lie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet, |
|
Blessing their sense. |
15 |
Not an angel of the air, |
|
Bird melodious, or bird fair, |
|
Is absent hence. |
|
The crow, the sland’rous cuckoo, nor |
|
The boding raven, nor chough hoar, |
20 |
Nor chatt’ring ’pie, |
|
May on our bride-house perch or sing, |
|
Or with them any discord bring, |
|
But from it fly. |
|
Enter three Queens in black, with veils stained, with imperial crowns. The First Queen falls down at the foot of Theseus; the Second falls down at the foot of Hippolyta; the Third before Emilia. |
|
1QUEEN [to Theseus] |
|
For pity’s sake and true gentility’s, |
25 |
Hear and respect me. |
|
2QUEEN [to Hippolyta] For your mother’s sake |
|
And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones, |
|
Hear and respect me. |
|
3QUEEN [to Emilia] |
|
Now, for the love of him whom Jove hath marked |
|
The honour of your bed and for the sake |
30 |
Of clear virginity, be advocate |
|
For us and our distresses. This good deed |
|
Shall raze you out o’th’ book of trespasses |
|
All you are set down there. |
|
THESEUS Sad lady, rise. |
|
HIPPOLYTA Stand up. |
|
EMILIA No knees to me! |
35 |
What woman I may stead that is distressed |
|
Does bind me to her. |
|
THESEUS |
|
What’s your request? |
|
[to First Queen] Deliver you for all. |
|
1QUEEN |
|
We are three queens whose sovereigns fell before |
|
The wrath of cruel Creon, who endure |
40 |
The beaks of ravens, talons of the kites |
|
And pecks of crows, in the foul fields of Thebes. |
|
He will not suffer us to burn their bones, |
|
To urn their ashes, nor to take th’offence |
|
Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye |
45 |
Of holy Phoebus, but infects the winds |
|
With stench of our slain lords. O pity, Duke; |
|
Thou purger of the earth, draw thy feared sword |
|
That does good turns to th’ world; give us the bones |
|
Of our dead kings that we may chapel them; |
50 |
And of thy boundless goodness take some note |
|
That for our crowned heads we have no roof, |
|
Save this which is the lion’s and the bear’s |
|
And vault to every thing. |
|
THESEUS Pray you, kneel not: |
|
I was transported with your speech and suffered |
55 |
Your knees to wrong themselves. I have heard the fortunes |
|
Of your dead lords, which gives me such lamenting |
|
As wakes my vengeance and revenge for ’em. |
|
[to First Queen] King Capaneus was your lord. The day |
|
That he should marry you, at such a season |
60 |
As now it is with me, I met your groom. |
|
By Mars’s altar, you were that time fair! |
|
Not Juno’s mantle fairer than your tresses |
|
Nor in more bounty spread her. Your wheaten wreath |
|
Was then nor threshed nor blasted; Fortune at you |
65 |
Dimpled her cheek with smiles. Hercules our kinsman, |
|
Then weaker than your eyes, laid by his club; |
|
He tumbled down upon his Nemean hide |
|
And swore his sinews thawed. O, grief and time, |
|
Fearful consumers, you will all devour! |
70 |
1QUEEN O, I hope some god, |
|
Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood, |
|
Whereto he’ll infuse power, and press you forth |
|
Our undertaker. |
|
THESEUS O, no knees, none, widow. |
|
Unto the helmeted Bellona use them, |
75 |
And pray for me, your soldier. |
|
Troubled I am. [Turns away.] |
|
2QUEEN Honoured Hippolyta, |
|
Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slain |
|
The scythe-tusked boar; that with thy arm, as strong |
|
As it is white, wast near to make the male |
80 |
To thy sex captive, but that this thy lord, |
|
Born to uphold creation in that honour |
|
First nature styled it in, shrunk thee into |
|
The bound thou wast o’erflowing, at once subduing |
|
Thy force and thy affection; soldieress, |
85 |
That equally canst poise sternness with pity, |
|
Whom now I know hast much more power on him |
|
Than ever he had on thee, who ow’st his strength |
|
And his love too, who is a servant for |
|
The tenor of thy speech; dear glass of ladies: |
90 |
Bid him that we, whom flaming war doth scorch, |
|
Under the shadow of his sword may cool us. |
|
Require him he advance it o’er our heads. |
|
Speak’t in a woman’s key; like such a woman |
|
As any of us three; weep ere you fail. |
95 |
Lend us a knee; |
|
But touch the ground for us no longer time |
|
Than a dove’s motion, when the head’s plucked off. |
|
Tell him, if he i’th’ blood-sized field lay swollen, |
|
Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, |
100 |
What you would do. |
|
HIPPOLYTA Poor lady, say no more. |
|
I had as lief trace this good action with you |
|
As that whereto I am going, and never yet |
|
Went I so willing way. My lord is taken |
|
Heart-deep with your distress. Let him consider: |
105 |
I’ll speak anon. [Second Queen rises.] |
|
3QUEEN O, my petition was |
|
Set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied |
|
Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form, |
|
Is pressed with deeper matter. |
|
EMILIA Pray, stand up; |
|
Your grief is written in your cheek. |
|
3QUEEN O, woe, |
110 |
You cannot read it there. [Rises.] |
|
There, through my tears, |
|
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream, |
|
You may behold ’em. Lady, lady, alack, |
|
He that will all the treasure know o’th’ earth |
|
Must know the centre too; he that will fish |
115 |
For my least minnow, let him lead his line |
|
To catch one at my heart. O, pardon me; |
|
Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits, Makes me a fool. |
|
EMILIA Pray you, say nothing, pray you: |
|
Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in’t, |
120 |
Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you were |
|
The ground-piece of some painter, I would buy you |
|
T’instruct me ’gainst a capital grief, indeed |
|
Such heart-pierced demonstration; but, alas, |
|
Being a natural sister of our sex, |
125 |
Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me |
|
That it shall make a counter-reflect ’gainst |
|
My brother’s heart and warm it to some pity, |
|
Though it were made of stone. Pray, have good comfort. |
|
THESEUS Forward to th’ temple! Leave not out a jot |
130 |
O’th’ sacred ceremony. |
|
1QUEEN O, this celebration |
|
Will longer last and be more costly than |
|
Your suppliants’ war! Remember that your fame |
|
Knolls in the ear o’th’ world: what you do quickly |
|
Is not done rashly; your first thought is more |
135 |
Than others’ laboured meditance; your premeditating |
|
More than their actions; but, O Jove, your actions, |
|
Soon as they move, as ospreys do the fish, |
|
Subdue before they touch. Think, dear Duke, think |
|
What beds our slain kings have! |
|
2QUEEN What griefs our beds, |
140 |
That our dear lords have none! |
|
3QUEEN None fit for th’ dead. |
|
Those that with cords, knives, drams’ precipitance, |
|
Weary of this world’s light, have to themselves |
|
Been death’s most horrid agents, human grace |
|
Affords them dust and shadow – |
|
1QUEEN But our lords |
145 |
Lie blistering ’fore the visitating sun, |
|
And were good kings when living. |
|
THESEUS It is true. |
|
And I will give you comfort, |
|
To give your dead lords graves – the which to do, |
|
Must make some work with Creon. |
|
1QUEEN And that work |
150 |
Presents itself to th’ doing. |
|
Now ’twill take form; the heats are gone tomorrow. |
|
Then, bootless toil must recompense itself |
|
With its own sweat; now, he’s secure, |
|
Nor dreams we stand before your puissance |
155 |
Rinsing our holy begging in our eyes |
|
To make petition clear. |
|
2QUEEN Now you may take him, |
|
Drunk with his victory – |
|
3QUEEN And his army full |
|
Of bread and sloth. |
|
THESEUS [to officer] Artesius, that best knowest |
|
How to draw out fit to this enterprise |
160 |
The prim’st for this proceeding and the number |
|
To carry such a business – forth and levy |
|
Our worthiest instruments, whilst we dispatch |
|
This grand act of our life, this daring deed |
|
Of fate in wedlock. |
|
1QUEEN [to Second and Third Queens] |
|
Dowagers, take hands. |
165 |
Let us be widows to our woes; delay |
|
Commends us to a famishing hope. |
|
QUEENS Farewell! |
|
2QUEEN |
|
We come unseasonably; but when could grief |
|
Cull forth, as unpanged judgement can, fitt’st time |
|
For best solicitation? |
|
THESEUS Why, good ladies, |
170 |
This is a service, whereto I am going, |
|
Greater than any war; it more imports me |
|
Than all the actions that I have foregone, |
|
Or futurely can cope. |
|
1QUEEN The more proclaiming |
|
Our suit shall be neglected when her arms, |
175 |
Able to lock Jove from a synod, shall |
|
By warranting moonlight corslet thee. O, when |
|
Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall |
|
Upon thy taste-full lips, what wilt thou think |
|
Of rotten kings or blubbered queens? What care |
180 |
For what thou feel’st not, what thou feel’st being able |
|
To make Mars spurn his drum? O, if thou couch |
|
But one night with her, every hour in’t will |
|
Take hostage of thee for a hundred and |
|
Thou shalt remember nothing more than what |
185 |
That banquet bids thee to. |
|
HIPPOLYTA Though much unlike |
|
You should be so transported, as much sorry |
|
I should be such a suitor, yet I think, |
|
Did I not, by th’abstaining of my joy |
|
Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit |
190 |
That craves a present med’cine, I should pluck |
|
All ladies’ scandal on me. Therefore, sir, [Kneels.] |
|
As I shall here make trial of my prayers, |
|
Either presuming them to have some force, |
|
Or sentencing for aye their vigour dumb, |
195 |
Prorogue this business we are going about and hang |
|
Your shield afore your heart, about that neck |
|
Which is my fee and which I freely lend |
|
To do these poor queens service. |
|
QUEENS [to Emilia] Oh, help now. |
|
Our cause cries for your knee. |
|
EMILIA [Kneels, to Theseus] If you grant not |
200 |
My sister her petition in that force, |
|
With that celerity and nature, which |
|
She makes it in, from henceforth I’ll not dare |
|
To ask you anything nor be so hardy |
|
Ever to take a husband. |
|
THESEUS Pray, stand up. |
205 |
I am entreating of my self to do |
|
That which you kneel to have me. [They rise.] Pirithous, |
|
Lead on the bride; get you and pray the gods |
|
For success and return; omit not anything |
|
In the pretended celebration. – Queens, |
210 |
Follow your soldier. |
|
[to officer] As before – hence, you, |
|
And at the banks of Aulis meet us with |
|
The forces you can raise, where we shall find |
|
The moiety of a number for a business |
|
More bigger-looked. Exit officer. |
|
[to Hippolyta] Since that our theme is haste, |
215 |
I stamp this kiss upon thy current lip; |
|
Sweet, keep it as my token. Set you forward, |
|
For I will see you gone. |
|
[Procession moves toward the temple.] |
|
– Farewell, my beauteous sister. – Pirithous, |
|
Keep the feast full; bate not an hour on’t. |
|
PIRITHOUS Sir, |
220 |
I’ll follow you at heels; the feast’s solemnity |
|
Shall want till your return. |
|
THESEUS Cousin, I charge you, |
|
Budge not from Athens. We shall be returning |
|
Ere you can end this feast, of which I pray you |
|
Make no abatement. Once more, farewell all. |
225 |
Exeunt all except Theseus and Queens. |
|
1QUEEN |
|
Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o’th’ world – |
|
2QUEEN And earn’st a deity equal with Mars – |
|
3QUEEN If not above him, for |
|
Thou, being but mortal, mak’st affections bend |
|
To godlike honours; they themselves, some say, |
230 |
Groan under such a mast’ry. |
|
THESEUS As we are men, |
|
Thus should we do; being sensually subdued, |
|
We lose our human title. Good cheer, ladies: |
|
Now turn we towards your comforts. |
|
Flourish. Exeunt. |
|
ARCITE Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood |
|
And our prime cousin: yet unhardened in |
|
The crimes of nature, let us leave the city |
|
Thebes and the temptings in’t, before we further |
|
Sully our gloss of youth |
5 |
And here to keep in abstinence we shame |
|
As in incontinence; for not to swim |
|
I’th’ aid o’th’ current, were almost to sink, |
|
At least to frustrate striving, and to follow |
|
The common stream, ’twould bring us to an eddy |
10 |
Where we should turn or drown; if labour through, |
|
Our gain but life and weakness. |
|
PALAMON Your advice |
|
Is cried up with example. What strange ruins, |
|
Since first we went to school, may we perceive |
|
Walking in Thebes! Scars and bare weeds |
15 |
The gain o’th’ martialist, who did propound |
|
To his bold ends honour and golden ingots, |
|
Which, though he won, he had not – and now flurted |
|
By Peace for whom he fought! Who then shall offer |
|
To Mars’s so scorned altar? I do bleed |
20 |
When such I meet and wish great Juno would |
|
Resume her ancient fit of jealousy |
|
To get the soldier work, that Peace might purge |
|
For her repletion and retain anew |
|
Her charitable heart, now hard and harsher |
25 |
Than strife or war could be. |
|
ARCITE Are you not out? |
|
Meet you no ruin but the soldier in |
|
The cranks and turns of Thebes? You did begin |
|
As if you met decays of many kinds. |
|
Perceive you none that do arouse your pity |
30 |
But th’unconsidered soldier? |
|
PALAMON Yes, I pity |
|
Decays where’er I find them, but such most |
|
That, sweating in an honourable toil, |
|
Are paid with ice to cool ’em. |
|
ARCITE ’Tis not this |
|
I did begin to speak of. This is virtue |
35 |
Of no respect in Thebes. I spake of Thebes – |
|
How dangerous, if we will keep our honours, |
|
It is for our residing, where every evil |
|
Hath a good colour; where every seeming good’s |
|
A certain evil; where not to be e’en jump |
40 |
As they are here were to be strangers, and, |
|
Such things to be, mere monsters. |
|
PALAMON ’Tis in our power, |
|
Unless we fear that apes can tutor’s, to |
|
Be masters of our manners. What need I |
|
Affect another’s gait, which is not catching |
45 |
Where there is faith, or to be fond upon |
|
Another’s way of speech when by mine own |
|
I may be reasonably conceived, saved too, |
|
Speaking it truly? Why am I bound |
|
By any generous bond to follow him |
50 |
Follows his tailor, haply so long until |
|
The followed make pursuit? Or let me know |
|
Why mine own barber is unblessed, with him |
|
My poor chin too, for ’tis not scissored just |
|
To such a favourite’s glass? What canon is there |
55 |
That does command my rapier from my hip |
|
To dangle’t in my hand, or to go tiptoe |
|
Before the street be foul? Either I am |
|
The fore-horse in the team or I am none |
|
That draw i’th’ sequent trace. These poor slight sores |
60 |
Need not a plantain; that which rips my bosom |
|
Almost to th’ heart’s – |
|
ARCITE Our uncle Creon. |
|
PALAMON He. |
|
A most unbounded tyrant, whose successes |
|
Makes heaven unfeared and villainy assured |
|
Beyond its power there’s nothing; almost puts |
65 |
Faith in a fever and deifies alone |
|
Voluble Chance; who only attributes |
|
The faculties of other instruments |
|
To his own nerves and act; commands men service |
|
And what they win in’t, boot and glory; one |
70 |
That fears not to do harm; good, dares not. Let |
|
The blood of mine that’s sib to him be sucked |
|
From me with leeches, let them break and fall |
|
Off me with that corruption. |
|
ARCITE Clear-spirited cousin, |
|
Let’s leave his court, that we may nothing share |
75 |
Of his loud infamy; for our milk |
|
Will relish of the pasture and we must |
|
Be vile or disobedient: not his kinsmen |
|
In blood unless in quality. |
|
PALAMON Nothing truer: |
|
I think the echoes of his shames have deafed |
80 |
The ears of heavenly Justice. Widows’ cries |
|
Descend again into their throats and have not |
|
Due audience of the gods. |
|
Enter VALERIUS. |
|
Valerius! |
|
VALERIUS The king calls for you; yet be leaden-footed |
|
Till his great rage be off him. Phoebus, when |
85 |
He broke his whipstock and exclaimed against |
|
The horses of the sun, but whispered to |
|
The loudness of his fury. |
|
PALAMON Small winds shake him. |
|
But what’s the matter? |
|
VALERIUS |
|
THESEUS, who, where he threats, appals, hath sent |
90 |
Deadly defiance to him and pronounces |
|
Ruin to Thebes, who is at hand to seal |
|
The promise of his wrath. |
|
ARCITE Let him approach. |
|
But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not |
|
A jot of terror to us. Yet what man |
95 |
Thirds his own worth (the case is each of ours) |
|
When that his action’s dregged with mind assured |
|
’Tis bad he goes about? |
|
PALAMON Leave that unreasoned. |
|
Our services stand now for Thebes, not Creon. |
|
Yet to be neutral to him were dishonour, |
100 |
Rebellious to oppose; therefore we must |
|
With him stand to the mercy of our fate, |
|
Who hath bounded our last minute. |
|
ARCITE So we must. |
|
[to Valerius] Is’t said this war’s afoot, or, it shall be, |
|
On fail of some condition? |
|
VALERIUS ’Tis in motion. |
105 |
The intelligence of state came in the instant |
|
With the defier. |
|
PALAMON Let’s to the king – who, were he |
|
A quarter-carrier of that honour which |
|
His enemy come in, the blood we venture |
|
Should be as for our health, which were not spent, |
110 |
Rather laid out for purchase; but, alas, |
|
Our hands advanced before our hearts, what will |
|
The fall o’th’ stroke do damage? |
|
ARCITE Let th’event, |
|
That never-erring arbitrator, tell us |
|
When we know all ourselves – and let us follow |
115 |
The becking of our chance. Exeunt. |
|
PIRITHOUS No further. |
|
HIPPOLYTA Sir, farewell; repeat my wishes |
|
To our great lord, of whose success I dare not |
|
Make any timorous question; yet I wish him |
|
Excess and overflow of power, an’t might be |
|
To dure ill-dealing fortune. Speed to him! |
5 |
Store never hurts good governors. |
|
PIRITHOUS Though I know |
|
His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they |
|
Must yield their tribute there. |
|
[to Emilia] My precious maid, |
|
Those best affections that the heavens infuse |
|
In their best-tempered pieces keep enthroned |
10 |
In your dear heart. |
|
EMILIA Thanks, sir. Remember me |
|
To our all-royal brother, for whose speed |
|
The great Bellona I’ll solicit; and, |
|
Since in our terrene state petitions are not |
|
Without gifts understood, I’ll offer to her |
15 |
What I shall be advised she likes. Our hearts |
|
Are in his army, in his tent – |
|
HIPPOLYTA In’s bosom. |
|
We have been soldiers and we cannot weep |
|
When our friends don their helms, or put to sea, |
|
Or tell of babes broached on the lance, or women |
20 |
That have sod their infants in (and after eat them) |
|
The brine they wept at killing ’em. Then, if |
|
You stay to see of us such spinsters, we |
|
Should hold you here forever. |
|
PIRITHOUS Peace be to you |
|
As I pursue this war, which shall be then |
25 |
Beyond further requiring. Exit. |
|
EMILIA How his longing |
|
Follows his friend! Since his depart, his sports, |
|
Though craving seriousness and skill, passed slightly |
|
His careless execution, where nor gain |
|
Made him regard or loss consider, but, |
30 |
Playing one business in his hand, another |
|
Directing in his head, his mind nurse equal |
|
To these so-differing twins. Have you observed him, |
|
Since our great lord departed? |
|
HIPPOLYTA With much labour, |
|
And I did love him for’t. They two have cabined |
35 |
In many as dangerous as poor a corner, |
|
Peril and want contending; they have skiffed |
|
Torrents whose roaring tyranny and power |
|
I’th’ least of these was dreadful; and they have |
|
Sought out together where Death’s self was lodged; |
40 |
Yet fate hath brought them off. Their knot of love, |
|
Tied, weaved, entangled, with so true, so long, |
|
And with a finger of so deep a cunning, |
|
May be outworn, never undone. I think |
|
theseus cannot be umpire to himself, |
45 |
Cleaving his conscience into twain and doing |
|
Each side like justice, which he loves best. |
|
EMILIA Doubtless, |
|
There is a best and reason has no manners |
|
To say it is not you. I was acquainted |
|
Once with a time when I enjoyed a play-fellow. |
50 |
You were at wars when she the grave enriched, |
|
Who made too proud the bed – took leave o’th’ moon |
|
(Which then looked pale at parting) when our count |
|
Was each eleven. |
|
HIPPOLYTA ’Twas Flavina. |
|
EMILIA Yes. |
|
You talk of Pirithous’ and Theseus’ love. |
55 |
Theirs has more ground, is more maturely seasoned, |
|
More buckled with strong judgement, and their needs |
|
The one of th’other may be said to water |
|
Their intertangled roots of love – but I |
|
And she I sigh and spoke of were things innocent, |
60 |
Loved for we did and like the elements |
|
That know not what nor why, yet do effect |
|
Rare issues by their operance; our souls |
|
Did so to one another. What she liked |
|
Was then of me approved; what not, condemned – |
65 |
No more arraignment. The flower that I would pluck |
|
And put between my breasts (then but beginning |
|
To swell about the blossom), O, she would long |
|
Till she had such another, and commit it |
|
To the like innocent cradle, where phoenix-like |
70 |
They died in perfume. On my head no toy |
|
But was her pattern; her affections – pretty, |
|
Though happily her careless wear – I followed |
|
For my most serious decking; had mine ear |
|
Stol’n some new air or at adventure hummed one |
75 |
From musical coinage, why, it was a note |
|
Whereon her spirits would sojourn – rather, dwell on, |
|
And sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsal, |
|
Which fury-innocent wots well, comes in |
|
Like old importment’s bastard, has this end: |
80 |
That the true love ’tween maid and maid may be |
|
More than in sex dividual. |
|
HIPPOLYTA You’re out of breath! |
|
And this high-speeded pace is but to say |
|
That you shall never, like the maid Flavina, |
|
Love any that’s called man. |
|
EMILIA I am sure I shall not. |
85 |
HIPPOLYTA Now, alack, weak sister, |
|
I must no more believe thee in this point, |
|
Though in’t I know thou dost believe thy self, |
|
Than I will trust a sickly appetite |
|
That loathes even as it longs. But sure, my sister, |
90 |
If I were ripe for your persuasion, you |
|
Have said enough to shake me from the arm |
|
Of the all-noble Theseus – for whose fortunes |
|
I will now in and kneel, with great assurance |
|
That we, more than his Pirithous, possess |
95 |
The high throne in his heart. |
|
EMILIA I am not |
|
Against your faith, yet I continue mine. Exeunt. |
|
PALAMON How do you, noble cousin? |
|
ARCITE How do you, sir? |
|
PALAMON Why, strong enough to laugh at misery |
|
And bear the chance of war; yet we are prisoners, |
|
I fear, forever, cousin. |
|
ARCITE I believe it |
|
And to that destiny have patiently |
5 |
Laid up my hour to come. |
|
PALAMON O, cousin Arcite, |
|
Where is Thebes now? Where is our noble country? |
|
Where are our friends and kindreds? Never more |
|
Must we behold those comforts, never see |
|
The hardy youths strive for the games of honour, |
10 |
Hung with the painted favours of their ladies, |
|
Like tall ships under sail – then start amongst ’em, |
|
And as an east wind leave ’em all behind us, |
|
Like lazy clouds, whilst Palamon and Arcite, |
|
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg, |
15 |
Outstripped the people’s praises, won the garlands, |
|
Ere they have time to wish ’em ours. O, never |
|
Shall we two exercise, like twins of honour, |
|
Our arms again and feel our fiery horses |
|
Like proud seas under us; our good swords now |
20 |
(Better the red-eyed god of war ne’er wore), |
|
Ravished our sides, like age must run to rust |
|
And deck the temples of those gods that hate us. |
|
These hands shall never draw ’em out like lightning |
|
To blast whole armies more. |
|
ARCITE No, Palamon, |
25 |
Those hopes are prisoners with us. Here we are, |
|
And here the graces of our youths must wither |
|
Like a too-timely spring; here age must find us |
|
And, which is heaviest, Palamon, unmarried. |
|
The sweet embraces of a loving wife, |
30 |
Loaden with kisses, armed with thousand Cupids, |
|
Shall never clasp our necks; no issue know us; |
|
No figures of ourselves shall we e’er see, |
|
To glad our age, and like young eagles teach ’em |
|
Boldly to gaze against bright arms and say, |
35 |
‘Remember what your fathers were, and conquer!’ |
|
The fair-eyed maids shall weep our banishments |
|
And in their songs curse ever-blinded Fortune |
|
Till she for shame see what a wrong she has done |
|
To youth and nature. This is all our world. |
40 |
We shall know nothing here but one another, |
|
Hear nothing but the clock that tells our woes. |
|
The vine shall grow but we shall never see it; |
|
Summer shall come and with her all delights, |
|
But dead-cold winter must inhabit here still. |
45 |
PALAMON ’Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds |
|
That shook the aged forest with their echoes |
|
No more now must we hallow, no more shake |
|
Our pointed javelins whilst the angry swine |
|
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages, |
50 |
Struck with our well-steeled darts. All valiant uses, |
|
The food and nourishment of noble minds, |
|
In us two here shall perish; we shall die, |
|
Which is the curse of honour, lastly, |
|
Children of grief and ignorance. |
|
ARCITE Yet, cousin, |
55 |
Even from the bottom of these miseries, |
|
From all that Fortune can inflict upon us, |
|
I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings, |
|
If the gods please: to hold here a brave patience |
|
And the enjoying of our griefs together. |
60 |
While Palamon is with me, let me perish |
|
If I think this our prison! |
|
PALAMON Certainly, |
|
’Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes |
|
Were twined together; ’tis most true, two souls |
|
Put in two noble bodies, let ’em suffer |
65 |
The gall of hazard, so they grow together, |
|
Will never sink; 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 cousin? |
70 |
ARCITE Let’s think this prison holy sanctuary, |
|
To keep us from corruption of worse men. |
|
We are young and yet desire the ways of honour, |
|
That liberty and common conversation, |
|
The poison of pure spirits, might, like women, |
75 |
Woo us to wander from. What worthy blessing |
|
Can be but our imaginations |
|
May make it ours? And here being thus together, |
|
We are an endless mine to one another; |
|
We are one another’s wife, ever begetting |
80 |
New births of love; we are father, friends, acquaintance, |
|
We are, in one another, families; |
|
I am your heir and you are mine. This place |
|
Is our inheritance; no hard oppressor |
|
Dare take this from us; here, with a little patience, |
85 |
We shall live long and loving. No surfeits seek us; |
|
The hand of war hurts none here, nor the seas |
|
Swallow their youth. Were we at liberty, |
|
A wife might part us lawfully, or business; |
|
Quarrels consume us; envy of ill men |
90 |
Crave our acquaintance. I might sicken, cousin, |
|
Where you should never know it, and so perish |
|
Without your noble hand to close mine eyes, |
|
Or prayers to the gods. A thousand chances, |
|
Were we from hence, would sever us. |
|
PALAMON You have made me – |
95 |
I thank you, cousin Arcite – almost wanton |
|
With my captivity: what a misery |
|
It is to live abroad and everywhere! |
|
’Tis like a beast, methinks. I find the court here – |
|
I am sure, a more content; and all those pleasures |
100 |
That woo the wills of men to vanity, |
|
I see through now and am sufficient |
|
To tell the world ’tis but a gaudy shadow |
|
That old Time as he passes by takes with him. |
|
What had we been, old in the court of Creon, |
105 |
Where sin is justice, lust and ignorance |
|
The virtues of the great ones? Cousin Arcite, |
|
Had not the loving gods found this place for us, |
|
We had died as they do, ill old men, unwept, |
|
And had their epitaphs, the people’s curses. |
110 |
Shall I say more? |
|
ARCITE I would hear you still. |
|
PALAMON You shall. |
|
Is there record of any two that loved |
|
Better than we do, Arcite? |
|
ARCITE Sure there cannot. |
|
PALAMON I do not think it possible our friendship |
|
Should ever leave us. |
|
ARCITE Till our deaths it cannot. |
115 |
Enter EMILIA and her Woman. |
|
And after death our spirits shall be led |
|
To those that love eternally. [Palamon sees Emilia.] |
|
Speak on, sir. |
|
EMILIA This garden has a world of pleasures in’t. |
|
What flower is this? |
|
WOMAN ’Tis called narcissus, madam. |
|
EMILIA That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool |
120 |
To love himself. Were there not maids enough? |
|
ARCITE [to Palamon] Pray, forward. |
|
PALAMON Yes – |
|
EMILIA Or were they all hard-hearted? |
|
WOMAN They could not be to one so fair. |
|
EMILIA Thou wouldst not. |
|
WOMAN I think I should not, madam. |
|
EMILIA That’s a good wench. |
|
But take heed to your kindness, though. |
|
WOMAN Why, madam? |
125 |
EMILIA Men are mad things. |
|
ARCITE Will ye go forward, cousin? |
|
EMILIA |
|
Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench? |
|
WOMAN Yes. |
|
EMILIA I’ll have a gown full o’ ’em, and of these. |
|
This is a pretty colour; will’t not do |
|
Rarely upon a skirt, wench? |
|
WOMAN Dainty, madam. |
130 |
ARCITE |
|
Cousin, cousin! how do you, sir? Why, Palamon! |
|
PALAMON Never till now was I in prison, Arcite. |
|
ARCITE Why, what’s the matter, man? |
|
PALAMON [Indicates Emilia.] Behold, and wonder! |
|
By heaven, she is a goddess. |
|
ARCITE [Sees Emilia.] Ha! |
|
PALAMON Do reverence. |
|
She is a goddess, Arcite. |
|
EMILIA Of all flowers |
135 |
Methinks a rose is best. |
|
WOMAN Why, gentle madam? |
|
EMILIA It is the very emblem of a maid. |
|
For, when the west wind courts her gently, |
|
How modestly she blows and paints the sun |
|
With her chaste blushes! When the north comes near her, |
140 |
Rude and impatient, then, like chastity, |
|
She locks her beauties in her bud again |
|
And leaves him to base briars. |
|
WOMAN Yet, good madam, |
|
Sometimes her modesty will blow so far |
|
She falls for’t. A maid, |
145 |
If she have any honour, would be loath |
|
To take example by her. |
|
EMILIA Thou art wanton. |
|
ARCITE She is wondrous fair. |
|
PALAMON She is all the beauty extant. |
|
EMILIA |
|
The sun grows high; let’s walk in. Keep these flowers. |
|
We’ll see how near art can come near their colours. |
150 |
I am wondrous merry-hearted; I could laugh now. |
|
WOMAN I could lie down, I am sure. |
|
EMILIA And take one with you? |
|
WOMAN That’s as we bargain, madam. |
|
EMILIA Well, agree then. |
|
Exeunt Emilia and Woman. |
|
PALAMON What think you of this beauty? |
|
ARCITE ’Tis a rare one. |
|
PALAMON Is’t but a rare one? |
|
ARCITE Yes, a matchless beauty. |
155 |
PALAMON |
|
Might not a man well lose himself and love her? |
|
ARCITE I cannot tell what you have done; I have, |
|
Beshrew mine eyes for’t; now I feel my shackles. |
|
PALAMON You love her then? |
|
ARCITE Who would not? |
|
PALAMON And desire her? |
|
ARCITE Before my liberty. |
|
PALAMON I saw her first. |
160 |
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 do, to worship her |
|
As she is heavenly and a blessed goddess. |
|
I love her as a woman, to enjoy her: |
165 |
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 took possession |
|
First with mine eye of all those beauties in her |
170 |
Revealed to mankind! If thou lovest her, |
|
Or entertain’st a hope to blast my wishes, |
|
Thou art a traitor, Arcite, and a fellow |
|
False as thy title to her. Friendship, blood, |
|
And all the ties between us, I disclaim, |
175 |
If thou once think upon her. |
|
ARCITE Yes, I love her |
|
And, if the lives of all my name lay on it, |
|
I must do so; I love her with my soul: |
|
If that will lose ye, farewell, Palamon. |
|
I say again, |
180 |
I love her and in loving her maintain |
|
I am as worthy and as free a lover, |
|
And have as just a title to her beauty, |
|
As any Palamon, or any living |
|
That is a man’s son. |
|
PALAMON Have I called thee friend? |
185 |
ARCITE |
|
Yes, and have found me so; why are you moved thus? |
|
Let me deal coldly with you: am not I |
|
Part of your blood, part of your soul? you have told me |
|
That I was Palamon and you were Arcite. |
|
PALAMON Yes. |
|
ARCITE Am not I liable to those affections, |
190 |
Those joys, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall |
|
suffer? |
|
PALAMON Ye may be. |
|
ARCITE Why then would you deal so cunningly, |
|
So strangely, so unlike a noble kinsman, |
|
To love alone? Speak truly: do you think me |
|
Unworthy of her sight? |
|
PALAMON No, but unjust |
195 |
If thou pursue that sight. |
|
ARCITE Because another |
|
First sees the enemy, shall I stand still |
|
And let mine honour down, 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, |
200 |
And use thy freedom. Else, if thou pursuest her, |
|
Be as that cursed man that hates his country, |
|
A branded villain. |
|
ARCITE You are mad. |
|
PALAMON I must be, |
|
Till thou art worthy, Arcite; it concerns me. |
|
And, in this madness, if I hazard thee |
205 |
And take thy life, I deal but truly. |
|
ARCITE Fie, sir! |
|
You play the child extremely. I will love her; |
|
I must, I ought, to do so, and I dare, |
|
And all this justly. |
|
PALAMON O that now, that now, |
|
Thy false self and thy friend had but this fortune: |
210 |
To be one hour at liberty and grasp |
|
Our good swords in our hands! I would quickly teach thee |
|
What ’twere to filch affection from another; |
|
Thou art baser in it than a cutpurse. |
|
Put but thy head out of this window more |
215 |
And, as I have a soul, I’ll nail thy life to’t. |
|
ARCITE |
|
Thou dar’st not, fool, thou canst not, thou art feeble. |
|
Put my head out? I’ll throw my body out |
|
And leap the garden, when I see her next, |
|
And pitch between her arms, to anger thee. |
220 |
Enter Jailer. |
|
PALAMON No more; the keeper’s coming. I shall live |
|
To knock thy brains out with my shackles. |
|
ARCITE Do! |
|
JAILER By your leave, gentlemen. |
|
PALAMON Now, honest keeper? |
|
JAILER Lord Arcite, you must presently to th’ Duke; |
|
The cause I know not yet. |
|
ARCITE I am ready, keeper. |
225 |
JAILER Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you |
|
Of your fair cousin’s company. |
|
Exeunt Arcite and Jailer. |
|
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 |
230 |
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 fair, |
|
Let honest men ne’er love again. Once more |
|
I would but see this fair one. Blessed garden |
235 |
And fruit and flowers more blessed that still blossom |
|
As her bright eyes shine on ye: would I were |
|
For all the fortune of my life hereafter |
|
Yon little tree, yon blooming apricock! |
|
How I would spread and fling my wanton arms |
240 |
In at her window! I would bring her fruit |
|
Fit for the gods to feed on; youth and pleasure |
|
Still as she tasted should be doubled on her |
|
And, if she be not heavenly, I would make her |
|
So near the gods in nature, they should fear her, |
245 |
Enter Jailer. |
|
And then I am sure she would love me. – How now, keeper? |
|
Where’s Arcite? |
|
JAILER Banished. Prince Pirithous |
|
Obtained his liberty, but never more |
|
Upon his oath and life must he set foot |
|
Upon this kingdom. |
|
PALAMON He’s a blessed man. |
250 |
He shall see Thebes again and call to arms |
|
The bold young men that, when he bids ’em charge, |
|
Fall on like fire. Arcite shall have a fortune, |
|
If he dare make himself a worthy lover, |
|
Yet in the field to strike a battle for her |
255 |
And, if he lose her then, he’s a cold coward; |
|
How bravely may he bear himself to win her |
|
If he be noble Arcite – thousand ways! |
|
Were I at liberty, I would do things |
|
Of such a virtuous greatness that this lady, |
260 |
This blushing virgin, should take manhood to her |
|
And seek to ravish me. |
|
JAILER My lord, for you |
|
I have this charge to – |
|
PALAMON To discharge my life. |
|
JAILER |
|
No, but from this place to remove your lordship; |
|
The windows are too open. |
|
PALAMON Devils take ’em |
265 |
That are so envious to me! Prithee, kill me. |
|
JAILER And hang for’t afterward! |
|
PALAMON By this good light, |
|
Had I a sword I would kill thee. |
|
JAILER Why, my lord? |
|
PALAMON |
|
Thou bringst such pelting, scurvy news continually, |
|
Thou art not worthy life. I will not go. |
270 |
JAILER Indeed you must, my lord. |
|
PALAMON May I see the garden? |
|
JAILER No. |
|
PALAMON Then I am resolved; I will not go. |
|
JAILER |
|
I must constrain you then and, for you are dangerous, |
|
I’ll clap more irons on you. |
|
PALAMON Do, good keeper! |
|
I’ll shake ’em so, ye shall not sleep; |
275 |
I’ll make ye a new morris. – Must I go? |
|
JAILER There is no remedy. |
|
PALAMON Farewell, kind window. |
|
May rude winds never hurt thee! – O, my lady, |
|
If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was, |
|
Dream how I suffer! – Come, now bury me. |
280 |
Exeunt Palamon and Jailer. |
|
ARCITE Banished the kingdom? ’Tis a benefit, |
|
A mercy I must thank ’em for; but banished |
|
The free enjoying of that face I die for – |
|
Oh, ’twas a studied punishment, a death |
|
Beyond imagination, such a vengeance |
5 |
That, were I old and wicked, all my sins |
|
Could never pluck upon me. Palamon, |
|
Thou hast the start now; thou shalt stay and see |
|
Her bright eyes break each morning ’gainst thy window |
|
And let in life into thee; thou shalt feed |
10 |
Upon the sweetness of a noble beauty |
|
That nature ne’er exceeded nor ne’er shall. |
|
Good gods, what happiness has Palamon! |
|
Twenty to one, he’ll come to speak to her |
|
And, if she be as gentle as she’s fair, |
15 |
I know she’s his; he has a tongue will tame |
|
Tempests and make the wild rocks wanton. |
|
Come what can come, |
|
The worst is death; I will not leave the kingdom. |
|
I know mine own is but a heap of ruins |
20 |
And no redress there. If I go, he has her. |
|
I am resolved another shape shall make me |
|
Or end my fortunes. Either way I am happy: |
|
I’ll see her and be near her, or no more. |
|
Enter four Countrymen, and one with a garland before them. ARCITE stands aside. |
|
1COUNTRYMAN My masters, I’ll be there, that’s certain. |
25 |
2COUNTRYMAN And I’ll be there. |
|
3COUNTRYMAN And I. |
|
4COUNTRYMAN |
|
Why then, have with ye, boys. ’Tis but a chiding. |
|
Let the plough play today; I’ll tickl’t out |
|
Of the jades’ tails tomorrow. |
|
1COUNTRYMAN I am sure |
30 |
To have my wife as jealous as a turkey – |
|
But that’s all one: I’ll go through; let her mumble. |
|
2COUNTRYMAN |
|
Clap her aboard tomorrow night and stow her, |
|
And all’s made up again. |
|
3COUNTRYMAN Ay, do but put |
|
A fescue in her fist and you shall see her |
35 |
Take a new lesson out and be a good wench. |
|
Do we all hold against the Maying? |
|
4COUNTRYMAN Hold? |
|
What should ail us? |
|
3COUNTRYMAN Arcas will be there. |
|
2COUNTRYMAN And Sennois |
|
And Rycas – and three better lads ne’er danced |
40 |
Under green tree – and ye know what wenches, ha? |
|
But will the dainty dominie, the schoolmaster, |
|
Keep touch, do you think? For he does all, ye know. |
|
3COUNTRYMAN He’ll eat a hornbook ere he fail. Go to; |
|
The matter’s too far driven between him |
45 |
And the tanner’s daughter to let slip now; |
|
And she must see the Duke and she must dance too. |
|
4COUNTRYMAN Shall we be lusty? |
|
2COUNTRYMAN All the boys in Athens |
|
Blow wind i’th’ breech on’s. And here I’ll be, |
|
And there I’ll be for our town and here again, |
50 |
And there again – ha, boys, hey for the weavers! |
|
1COUNTRYMAN This must be done i’th’ woods. |
|
4COUNTRYMAN O, pardon me. |
|
2COUNTRYMAN |
|
By any means; our thing of learning says so – |
|
Where he himself will edify the Duke |
|
Most parlously in our behalfs. He’s excellent i’th’ |
|
woods; |
55 |
Bring him to th’ plains, his learning makes no cry. |
|
3COUNTRYMAN |
|
We’ll see the sports, then every man to’s tackle; |
|
And, sweet companions, let’s rehearse, by any means, |
|
Before the ladies see us and do sweetly |
|
And God knows what may come on’t. |
60 |
4COUNTRYMAN |
|
Content; the sports once ended, we’ll perform. |
|
Away, boys – and hold. [Arcite comes forward.] |
|
ARCITE By your leaves, honest friends: |
|
Pray you, whither go you? |
|
4COUNTRYMAN Whither? |
|
Why, what a question’s that? |
|
ARCITE Yes, ’tis a question, |
|
To me that know not. |
|
3COUNTRYMAN To the games, my friend. |
65 |
2COUNTRYMAN |
|
Where were you bred, you know it not? |
|
ARCITE Not far, sir; |
|
Are there such games today? |
|
1COUNTRYMAN Yes, marry, are there |
|
And such as you never saw; the Duke himself |
|
Will be in person there. |
|
ARCITE What pastimes are they? |
|
2COUNTRYMAN |
|
Wrestling and running. – ’Tis a pretty fellow. |
70 |
3COUNTRYMAN Thou wilt not go along? |
|
ARCITE Not yet, sir. |
|
4COUNTRYMAN Well, sir, |
|
Take your own time. Come, boys. |
|
1COUNTRYMAN [aside to the others] |
|
My mind misgives me, |
|
This fellow has a vengeance trick o’th’ hip; |
|
Mark how his body’s made for’t. |
|
2COUNTRYMAN I’ll be hanged, though, |
|
If he dare venture. Hang him, plum porridge! |
75 |
He wrestle? He roast eggs! Come, let’s be gone, lads. |
|
Exeunt Countrymen. |
|
ARCITE This is an offered opportunity |
|
I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled – |
|
The best men called it excellent – and run |
|
Swifter than wind upon a field of corn, |
80 |
Curling the wealthy ears, never flew. I’ll venture |
|
And in some poor disguise be there; who knows |
|
Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands |
|
And happiness prefer me to a place, |
|
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her? Exit. |
85 |
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PIRITHOUS, EMILIA; ARCITE, disguised as a countryman, with a garland; attendants and spectators. |
|
THESEUS You have done worthily; I have not seen, |
|
Since Hercules, a man of tougher sinews. |
|
Whate’er you are, you run the best and wrestle, |
|
That these times can allow. |
|
ARCITE I am proud to please you. |
|
THESEUS What country bred you? |
|
ARCITE This; but far off, Prince. |
5 |
THESEUS Are you a gentleman? |
|
ARCITE My father said so |
|
And to those gentle uses gave me life. |
|
THESEUS Are you his heir? |
|
ARCITE His youngest, sir. |
|
THESEUS Your father |
|
Sure is a happy sire then. What profess you? |
|
ARCITE A little of all noble qualities. |
10 |
I could have kept a hawk and well have hallowed |
|
To a deep cry of dogs. I dare not praise |
|
My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me |
|
Would say it was my best piece; last and greatest, |
|
I would be thought a soldier. |
|
THESEUS You are perfect. |
15 |
PIRITHOUS [to Emilia] Upon my soul, a proper man. |
|
EMILIA He is so. |
|
PIRITHOUS [to Hippolyta] How do you like him, lady? |
|
HIPPOLYTA I admire him. |
|
I have not seen so young a man so noble, |
|
If he say true, of his sort. |
|
EMILIA Believe, |
|
His mother was a wondrous handsome woman; |
20 |
His face, methinks, goes that way. |
|
HIPPOLYTA But his body |
|
And fiery mind illustrate a brave father. |
|
PIRITHOUS Mark how his virtue, like a hidden sun, |
|
Breaks through his baser garments. |
|
HIPPOLYTA He’s well got, sure. |
|
THESEUS [to Arcite] What made you seek this place, sir? |
|
ARCITE Noble Theseus, |
|
To purchase name and do my ablest service |
25 |
To such a well-found wonder as thy worth, |
|
For only in thy court, of all the world, |
|
Dwells fair-eyed Honour. |
|
PIRITHOUS All his words are worthy. |
|
THESEUS [to Arcite] |
|
Sir, we are much indebted to your travel, |
30 |
Nor shall you lose your wish. Pirithous, |
|
Dispose of this fair gentleman. |
|
PIRITHOUS Thanks, Theseus. |
|
[to Arcite] Whate’er you are, you’re mine, and I shall give you |
|
To a most noble service: to this lady, |
|
[Leads him to Emilia.] |
|
This bright young virgin; pray observe her goodness. |
35 |
You have honoured her fair birthday with your virtues |
|
And, as your due, you’re hers; kiss her fair hand, sir. |
|
ARCITE Sir, you’re a noble giver. – Dearest beauty, |
|
Thus let me seal my vowed faith. [Kisses her hand.] |
|
When your servant, |
|
Your most unworthy creature, but offends you, |
40 |
Command him die: he shall. |
|
EMILIA That were too cruel. |
|
If you deserve well, sir, I shall soon see’t. |
|
You’re mine and somewhat better than your rank I’ll |
|
use you. |
|
PIRITHOUS I’ll see you furnished and, because you say |
|
You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you |
45 |
This afternoon to ride, but ’tis a rough one. |
|
ARCITE I like him better, Prince; I shall not then |
|
Freeze in my saddle. |
|
THESEUS [to Hippolyta] Sweet, you must be ready, |
|
And you, Emelia, and |
|
[to Pirithous] you, friend, and all, |
|
Tomorrow by the sun, to do observance |
50 |
To flowery May, in Dian’s wood. |
|
[to Arcite] Wait well, sir, |
|
Upon your mistress. – Emily, I hope |
|
He shall not go afoot. |
|
EMILIA That were a shame, sir, |
|
While I have horses. |
|
[to Arcite] Take your choice and what |
|
You want at any time, let me but know it; |
55 |
If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you |
|
You’ll find a loving mistress. |
|
ARCITE If I do not, |
|
Let me find that my father ever hated, |
|
Disgrace and blows. |
|
THESEUS Go lead the way; you have won it |
|
It shall be so: you shall receive all dues |
60 |
Fit for the honour you have won; ’twere wrong else. |
|
– Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a servant, |
|
That, if I were a woman, would be a master. |
|
But you are wise. |
|
EMILIA I hope, too wise for that, sir. |
|
Flourish. Exeunt. |
|
ARCITE The Duke has lost Hippolyta; each took |
|
A several laund. This is a solemn rite |
|
They owe bloomed May and the Athenians pay it |
|
To th’ heart of ceremony. O, Queen Emilia, |
|
Fresher than May, sweeter |
5 |
Than her gold buttons on the boughs, or all |
|
Th’enamelled knacks o’th’ mead, or garden – yea, |
|
We challenge too the bank of any nymph |
|
That makes the stream seem flowers: thou, oh jewel |
|
O’th’ wood, o’th’ world, hast likewise blest a pace |
10 |
With thy sole presence. In thy rumination, |
|
That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between |
|
And chop on some cold thought! Thrice blessed chance |
|
To drop on such a mistress, expectation |
|
Most guiltless on’t! Tell me, O Lady Fortune |
15 |
(Next, after Emily, my sovereign), how far |
|
I may be proud. She takes strong note of me, |
|
Hath made me near her and, this beauteous morn, |
|
The prim’st of all the year, presents me with |
|
A brace of horses: two such steeds might well |
20 |
Be by a pair of kings backed, in a field |
|
That their crowns’ titles tried. Alas, alas, |
|
Poor cousin Palamon, poor prisoner, thou |
|
So little dream’st upon my fortune, that |
|
Thou thinkst thyself the happier thing, to be |
25 |
So near Emilia; me thou deem’st at Thebes, |
|
And therein wretched, although free. But if |
|
Thou knew’st my mistress breathed on me, and that |
|
I eared her language, lived in her eye; O, coz, |
|
What passion would enclose thee! |
|
Enter PALAMON as out of a bush, with his shackles; he bends his fist at Arcite. |
|
PALAMON Traitor kinsman, |
30 |
Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signs |
|
Of prisonment were off me and this hand |
|
But owner of a sword! By all oaths in one, |
|
I and the justice of my love would make thee |
|
A confessed traitor! O, thou most perfidious |
35 |
That ever gently looked, the void’st of honour |
|
That e’er bore gentle token, falsest cousin |
|
That ever blood made kin: call’st thou her thine? |
|
I’ll prove it in my shackles, with these hands, |
|
Void of appointment, that thou liest, and art |
40 |
A very thief in love, a chaffy lord |
|
Not worth the name of villain. Had I a sword |
|
And these house-clogs away – |
|
ARCITE Dear cousin Palamon – |
|
PALAMON Cosener Arcite, give me language such |
|
As thou hast showed me feat. |
|
ARCITE a Not finding in |
45 |
The circuit of my breast any gross stuff |
|
To form me like your blazon holds me to |
|
This gentleness of answer. ’Tis your passion |
|
That thus mistakes, the which to you being enemy, |
|
Cannot to me be kind: honour and honesty |
50 |
I cherish and depend on, howsoe’er |
|
You skip them in me, and with them, fair coz, |
|
I’ll maintain my proceedings. Pray be pleased |
|
To show in generous terms your griefs, since that |
|
Your question’s with your equal, who professes |
55 |
To clear his own way with the mind and sword |
|
Of a true gentlemen. |
|
PALAMON That thou durst, Arcite! |
|
ARCITE My coz, my coz, you have been well advertised |
|
How much I dare; you’ve seen me use my sword |
|
Against th’advice of fear. Sure, of another |
60 |
You would not hear me doubted, but your silence |
|
Should break out, though i’th’ sanctuary. |
|
PALAMON Sir, |
|
I have seen you move in such a place, which well |
|
Might justify your manhood; you were called |
|
A good knight and a bold. But the whole week’s not fair |
65 |
If any day it rain: their valiant temper |
|
Men lose when they incline to treachery |
|
And then they fight like compelled bears, would fly |
|
Were they not tied. |
|
ARCITE Cousin, you might as well |
|
Speak this and act it in your glass as to |
70 |
His ear which now disdains you. |
|
PALAMON Come up to me; |
|
Quit me of those cold gyves; give me a sword, |
|
Though it be rusty, and the charity |
|
Of one meal lend me. Come before me then, |
|
A good sword in thy hand, and do but say |
75 |
That Emily is thine – I will forgive |
|
The trespass thou hast done me, yea, my life, |
|
If then thou carry’t, and brave souls in shades |
|
That have died manly, which will seek of me |
|
Some news from earth, they shall get none but this: |
80 |
That thou art brave and noble. |
|
ARCITE Be content. |
|
Again betake you to your hawthorn house. |
|
With counsel of the night, I will be here |
|
With wholesome viands. These impediments |
|
Will I file off; you shall have garments and |
85 |
Perfumes to kill the smell o’th’ prison. After, |
|
When you shall stretch yourself and say but, ‘Arcite, |
|
I am in plight’, there shall be at your choice |
|
Both sword and armour. |
|
PALAMON O you heavens, dares any |
|
So nobly bear a guilty business? None |
90 |
But only Arcite; therefore none but Arcite |
|
In this kind but so bold. |
|
ARCITE Sweet Palamon. [Offers to embrace him.] |
|
PALAMON |
|
I do embrace you and your offer; for |
|
Your offer do’t I only, sir; your person |
|
Without hypocrisy I may not wish |
95 |
More than my sword’s edge on’t. |
|
ARCITE You hear the horns; [Horns.] |
|
Enter your musit, lest this match between’s |
|
Be crossed ere met. Give me your hand; farewell. |
|
I’ll bring you every needful thing. I pray you |
|
Take comfort and be strong. |
|
PALAMON Pray hold your promise |
100 |
And do the deed with a bent brow. Most certain |
|
You love me not; be rough with me and pour |
|
This oil out of your language. By this air, |
|
I could for each word give a cuff, my stomach |
|
Not reconciled by reason. |
|
ARCITE Plainly spoken. |
105 |
Yet pardon me hard language. When I spur |
|
My horse I chide him not; content and anger |
|
In me have but one face. [Horns again.] |
|
Hark, sir, they call |
|
The scattered to the banquet. You must guess |
|
I have an office there. |
|
PALAMON Sir, your attendance |
110 |
Cannot please heaven and I know your office |
|
Unjustly is achieved. |
|
ARCITE ’Tis a good title. |
|
I am persuaded, this question, sick between ’s, |
|
By bleeding must be cured. I am a suitor |
|
That to your sword you will bequeath this plea |
115 |
And talk of it no more. |
|
PALAMON But this one word: |
|
You are going now to gaze upon my mistress – |
|
For, note you, mine she is – |
|
ARCITE Nay, then – |
|
PALAMON Nay, pray you! |
|
You talk of feeding me to breed me strength. |
|
You are going now to look upon a sun |
120 |
That strengthens what it looks on; there |
|
You have a vantage on me. But enjoy’t till |
|
I may enforce my remedy. Farewell. Exeunt. |
|
ARCITE |
|
I should be near the place. Ho! Cousin Palamon? |
|
PALAMON [from the bush] |
|
ARCITE? |
|
ARCITE The same. I have brought you food and files. |
|
Come forth and fear not; here’s no Theseus. |
|
Enter PALAMON. |
|
PALAMON Nor none so honest, Arcite. |
|
ARCITE That’s no matter. |
|
We’ll argue that hereafter. Come, take courage! |
5 |
You shall not die thus beastly; here, sir, drink – |
|
I know you are faint – then I’ll talk further with you. |
|
PALAMON Arcite, thou mightst now poison me. |
|
ARCITE I might, |
|
But I must fear you first. Sit down and, good now, |
|
No more of these vain parleys; let us not, |
10 |
Having our ancient reputation with us, |
|
Make talk for fools and cowards. To your health – |
|
[Drinks.] |
|
PALAMON Do! |
|
ARCITE Pray sit down then, and let me entreat you, |
|
By all the honesty and honour in you, |
15 |
No mention of this woman; ’twill disturb us. |
|
We shall have time enough. |
|
PALAMON Well, sir, I’ll pledge you. [Drinks.] |
|
ARCITE Drink a good hearty draught: it breeds good blood, man. |
|
Do not you feel it thaw you? |
|
PALAMON Stay, I’ll tell you |
|
After a draught or two more. |
|
ARCITE Spare it not; |
20 |
The Duke has more, coz. Eat now. |
|
PALAMON Yes. |
|
ARCITE I am glad |
|
You have so good a stomach. |
|
PALAMON I am gladder |
|
I have so good meat to’t. |
|
ARCITE Is’t not mad lodging, |
|
Here in the wild woods, cousin? |
|
PALAMON Yes, for them |
|
That have wild consciences. |
|
ARCITE How tastes your victuals? |
25 |
Your hunger needs no sauce, I see. |
|
PALAMON Not much. |
|
But if it did, yours is too tart, sweet cousin. |
|
What is this? |
|
ARCITE Venison. |
|
PALAMON ’Tis a lusty meat. |
|
Give me more wine. – Here, Arcite, to the wenches |
|
We have known in our days. The Lord Steward’s daughter – |
30 |
Do you remember her? |
|
ARCITE After you, coz. |
|
PALAMON She loved a black-haired man – |
|
ARCITE She did so; well, sir? |
|
PALAMON And I have heard some call him Arcite, and – |
|
ARCITE Out with’t, faith. |
|
PALAMON She met him in an arbour. |
|
What did she there, coz? play o’th’ virginals? |
35 |
ARCITE Something she did, sir – |
|
PALAMON Made her groan a month for’t. |
|
Or two, or three, or ten. |
|
ARCITE The Marshall’s sister |
|
Had her share too, as I remember, cousin; |
|
Else there be tales abroad. You’ll pledge her? |
|
PALAMON Yes. |
|
ARCITE A pretty brown wench ’tis. There was a time |
40 |
When young men went a-hunting, and a wood, |
|
And a broad beech; and thereby hangs a tale – |
|
Hey ho. |
|
PALAMON For Emily, upon my life! Fool, |
|
Away with this strained mirth! I say again, |
|
That sigh was breathed for Emily; base cousin, |
45 |
Dar’st thou break first? |
|
ARCITE You are wide. |
|
PALAMON By heaven and earth, |
|
There’s nothing in thee honest. |
|
ARCITE Then I’ll leave you; |
|
You are a beast now. |
|
PALAMON As thou mak’st me, traitor. |
|
ARCITE |
|
There’s all things needful – files and shirts, and perfumes; |
|
I’ll come again some two hours hence, and bring |
50 |
That that shall quiet all – |
|
PALAMON A sword and armour. |
|
ARCITE Fear me not. You are now too foul; farewell. |
|
Get off your trinkets. You shall want nought. |
|
PALAMON Sirrah – |
|
ARCITE I’ll hear no more. Exit. |
|
PALAMON If he keep touch, he dies for’t. Exit. |
|
