Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Scæna Secunda

Enter Palamon, and Arcite

 
Arcite. Dear Palamon, dearer in Love than Blood
And our prime Cosin, yet unhard'ned in
The Crimes of nature; Let us leave the City
Thebs, and the temptings in't, before we further
Sully our gloss of youth,
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, 't would bring us to an Eddy
Where we should turn or drown; if labour through,
Our gain but life, and weakness.
 
 
Pal. Your advice
Is cry'd up with example; what strange ruins
Since first we went to School, may we perceive
Walking in Thebs! Skars, and bare weeds
The gain o'th' Martialist, who did propound
To his bold ends, honor, 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 scorn'd Altar? I doe bleed
When such I meet, and wish great Juno would
Resume her antient fit of jealousie
To get the Soldier work, that peace might purge
For her repletion, and retain anew
Her charitable heart now hard, and harsher
Than strife, or war could be.
 
 
Arcite. Are you not out?
Meet you no ruin, but the Soldier in
The crancks and turns of Thebs? you did begin
As if you met decaies of many kinds:
Perceive you none, that do arouse your pity
But th' unconsider'd Soldier?
 
 
Pal. Yes, I pity
Decaies where-e'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
Of no respect in Thebs, I spake of Thebs
How dangerous if we will keep our honors,
It is for our residing, where every evil
Hath a good colour; where ev'ry seeming good's
A certain evil, where not to be ev'n jump
As they are, here were to be strangers, and
Such things to be meer Monsters.
 
 
Pal. 'Tis in our power,
(Unless we fear that Apes can Tutor's) to
Be Masters of our manners: what need I
Affect anothers gate, which is not catching
Where there is faith, or to be fond upon
Anothers way of speech, when by mine own
I may be reasonably conceiv'd; sav'd too,
Speaking it truly; why am I bound
By any generous bond to follow him
Follows his Taylor, haply so long, until
The follow'd, make pursuit? or let me know,
Why mine own Barber is unblest, with him
My poor Chinn too, for 'tis not Cizard just
To such a Favorites glass: What Cannon is there
That does command my Rapier from my hip
To dangle't in my hand, or to goe tip toe
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,
Need not a Plantain; That which [r]ips my bosome
Almost to th' heart's.
 
 
Arcite. Our Uncle Creon.
 
 
Pal. He,
A most unbounded Tyrant, whose successes
Makes Heaven unfear'd, and villany assured
Beyond its power: there's nothing, almost puts
Faith in a Feavor, 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 on;
That fears not to [do] harm; good, dares not; Let
The bloud of mine that's sibbe to him, be suckt
From me with Leeches, let them break and fall
Off me with that corruption.
 
 
Arc. Clear spirited Cosin
Let's leave his Court, that we may nothing share,
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.
 
 
Pal. Nothing truer:
I think the ecchoes of his shames have deaf't
The ears of heav'nly Justice: widdows cries
Descend again into their throats, and have not
Due audience of the gods: Valerius.
 

Enter Valerius

 
Val. The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footed
Till his great rage be off him. Phebus when
He broke his whipstock, and exclaim'd against
The Horses of the Sun, but whisper'd to
The loudness of his fury.
 
 
Pal. Small winds shake him,
But what's the matter?
 
 
Val. Theseus (who where he threats appals,) hath sent
Deadly defiance to him, and pronounces
Ruin to Thebs, who is at hand to seal
The promise of his wrath.
 
 
Arc. Let him approach:
But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not
A jot of terror to us; yet what man
Thirds his own worth (the case is each of ours)
When that his actions dregg'd, with mind assur'd
'Tis bad he goes about.
 
 
Pal. Leave that unreason'd.
Our services stand now for Thebs, not Creon,
Yet to be neutral to him, were dishonor;
Rebellious to oppose: therefore we must
With him stand to the mercy of our Fate,
Who hath bounded our last minute.
 
 
Arc. So we must;
Ist sed this wars afoot? or it shall be
On fail of some condition.
 
 
Val. 'Tis in motion
The intelligence of state came in the instant
With the defier.
 
 
P[a]l. Let's to the King, who, were he
A quarter carrier of that honor, which
His enemy came in, the bloud we venture
Should be as for our health, which were not spent,
Rather laid out for purchase: but alas
Our hands advanc'd before our hearts, what will
The fall o' th' stroke do damage?
 
 
Arci. Let th' event,
That never-erring Arbitrator, tell us
When we know all our selves, and let us follow
The becking of our chance.
 

[Exeunt.

Scena Tertia

Enter Perithous, Hippolita, Emilia

 
Pir. No further.
 
 
Hip. Sir farewel; repeat my wishes
To our great Lord, of whose success I dare not
Make any timerous question; yet I wish him
Excess, and overflow of power, and't might be
To dure ill-dealing fortune; speed to him,
Store never hurts good Governors.
 
 
Pir. Though I know
His Ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they
Must yield their tribute there: My precious Maid,
Those best affections that the heavens infuse
In their best temper'd pieces, keep enthron'd
In your dear heart.
 
 
Emil. Thanks Sir; remember me
To our all-Royal Brother, for whose speed
The great Bellona I'll solicite; and
Since in our terrene State, petitions are not
Without gifts understood: I'll offer to her
What I shall be advis'd she likes; our hearts
Are in his Army, in his Tent.
 
 
Hip. In's bosom:
We have been Soldiers, and we cannot weep
When our Friends do'n their helms, or put to Sea,
Or tell of Babes broach'd on the Launce, or Women
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 for ever.
 
 
Pir. Peace be to you
As I pursue this war, which shall be then
Beyond further requiring.
 

[Exit Pir.

 
Emil. How his longing
Follows his friend; since his depart, his sports
Though craving seriousness, and skill, past slightly
His careless execution, where nor gain
Made him regard, or loss consider, but
Playing o'er business in his hand, another
Directing in his head, his mind, nurse equal
To these so diff'ring Twins; have you observ'd him,
Since our great Lord departed?
 
 
Hip. With much labour:
And I did love him for't, they two have Cabin'd
In many as dangerous, as poor a corner,
Peril and want contending, they have skift
Torrents, whose roaring tyranny and power
I'th' least of these was dreadful, and they have
Fought out together, where Death's-self was lodg'd,
Yet Fate hath brought them off: their knot of love
Ti'd, weav'd, intangl'd, with so true, so long,
And with a finger of so deep a cunning
May be out-worn, never undone. I think
Theseus cannot be umpire to himself
Cleaving his conscience into twain, and doing
Each side like Justice, which he loves best.
 
 
Emil. 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 enjoy'd a Play-fellow;
You were at wars, when she the grave enrich'd,
Who made too proud the Bed, took leave o' th' Moon
(Which then lookt pale at parting) when our count
Was each eleven.
 
 
Hip. 'Twas Flavia.
 

[Two Hearses ready with Palamon, and Arcite:

The three Queens. Theseus, and his Lords ready.

 
Emil. Yes,
You talk of Pirithous and Theseus love;
Theirs has more ground, is more maturely season'd,
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,
Lov'd 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 lik'd,
Was then of me approv'd, what not condemn'd
No more arraignment, the flower that I would pluck
And put between my breasts, oh (then but beginning
To swell about the blossom) she would long
Till she had such another, and commit it
To the like innocent Cradle, where Phenix-like
They di'd in perfume: on my head no toy
But was her pattern, her affections pretty
Though happily, her careless, were, I followed
For my most serious decking, had mine ear
Stol'n some new air, or at adventure humm'd on
From musical Coynage, 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 importments-bastard, has this end;
That the true love 'tween Maid, and Maid, may be
More than in sex individual.
 
 
Hip. Y'are out of breath
And this high speeded-pace, is but to say
That you shall never (like the Maid Flavina)
Love any that's call'd Man.
 
 
Emil. I'm sure I shall not.
 
 
Hip. Now alack weak Sister,
I must no more believe thee in this point
(Though in't I know thou dost believe thy self)
Then I will trust a sickly appetite,
That loaths even as it longs, but sure my Sister
If I were ripe for your perswasion, 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 Pirathous, possess
The high Throne in his heart.
 
 
E[m]il. I am not against your faith,
Yet I continue mine.
 

[Exeunt Cornets.

Scena Quarta

A Battel struck within: then a Retreat: Florish. Then Enter Theseus (victor) the three Queens meet him, and fall on their faces before him

 
1 Qu. To thee no Star be dark.
 
 
2 Qu. Both Heaven and Earth
Friend thee for ever.
 
 
3 Qu. All the good that may
Be wish'd upon thy head, I cry Amen to't.
 
 
Thes. Th'impartial gods, who from the mounted heavens
View us their mortal Herd, behold who erre,
And in their time chastise: goe and find out
The bones of your dead Lords, and honor them
With treble ceremony, rather than a gap
Should be in their dear rights, we would supply't.
But those we will depute, which shall invest
You in your dignities, and even each thing
Our haste does leave imperfect; So adieu
And heavens good eyes look on you, what are those?
 

[Exeunt Queens.

 
Herald. Men of great quality, as may be judg'd
By their appointment; some of Thebs have told's
They are Sisters children, Nephews to the King.
 
 
Thes. By th' Helme of Mars, I saw them in the War,
Like to a pair of Lions, smear'd with prey,
Make lanes in troops agast. I fixt my note
Constantly on them; for they were a mark
Worth a god's view: what prisoner was't that told me
When I enquir'd their names?
 
 
Herald. We leave, they'r called
Arcite and Palamon.
 
 
Thes. 'Tis right, those, those
They are not dead?
 

[Three Hearses ready.

 
Her. Nor in a state of life, had they been taken
When their last hurts were given, 'twas possible
They might have been recover'd; Yet they breathe
And have the name of men.
 
 
Thes. Then like men use 'em
The very lees of such (millions of rates)
Exceed the Wine of others, all our Surgeons
Convent in their behoof, our richest balmes
Rather than niggard waste, their lives concern us,
Much more than Thebs is worth, rather than have 'em
Freed of this plight, and in their morning state
(Sound and at liberty) I would 'em dead,
But forty thousand fold, we had rather have 'em
Prisoners to us, than death; bear 'em speedily
From our kind air, to them unkind, and minister
What man to man may do for our sake more,
Since I have known frights, fury, friends, beheasts,
Loves, provocations, zeal, a Mistriss taske,
Desire of liberty, a feavor, madness,
Hath set a mark which nature could not reach too
Without some imposition, sickness in Will
Or wrestling strength in reason, for our Love
And great Apollos mercy, all our best,
Their best [skill] tender. Lead into the City,
Where having bound things scatter'd, we will post.
 

[Florish.

 
To Athens for o[u]r Army.
 

[Exeunt. Musick.

Scena Quinta

Enter the Queens, with the Hearses of their Knights, in a Funeral Solemnity, &c

 
Urns and Odours, bring away,
Vapors, sighs, darken the day;
Our dole more deadly looks, than dying
Balmes, and Gumms, and heavy cheers,
 
 
Sacred vi[a]ls fill'd with tears,
And clamors, through the wild air flying:
 
 
Come all sad and solemn Shows,
That are quick-ey'd pleasures foes;
We convent nought else but woes.
We convent, &c.
 
 
3 Qu. This funeral path, brings to your houshold[s] grave[:]
Joy seize on you again: peace, sleep with him.
 
 
2 Qu. And this to yours.
 
 
1 Qu. Yours this way: Heavens lend
A thousand differing ways to one sure end.
 
 
3 Qu. This world's a City full of straying streets,
And Death's the Market-place, where each one meets.
 

[Exeunt severally.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima

Enter Jaylor and Wooer

 
Jail.
I may depart with little, while I live, something I
May cast to you, not much: Alas the Prison I
Keep, though it be for great ones, yet they seldom
Come; before one Salmon, you shall take a number
Of Minnows: I am given out to be better lin'd
Than it can appear, to me report is a true
Speaker: I would I were really, that I am
Deliver'd to be: Marry, what I have (be it what
It will) I will assure upon my daughter at
The day of my death.
 
 
Wooer. Sir, I demand no more than your own offer,
And I will estate your Daughter, in what I
Have promised.
 
 
Jail. Well, we will talk more of this, when the solemnity
Is past; But have you a full promise of her?
 

Enter Daughter

 
When that shall be seen, I tender my consent.
 
 
Wooer. I have Sir; here she comes.
 
 
Jail. Your friend and I have chanced to name
You here, upon the old business: but no more of that.
Now, so soon as the Court-hurry is over, we will
Have an end of it: I' th' mean time look tenderly
To the two prisoners. I can tell you they are Princes.
 
 
Daugh. These strewings are for their Chamber; 'tis pity they
Are in prison, and 'twere pity they should be out: I
Do think they have patience to make any adversity
Asham'd; the prison it self is proud of 'em; and
They have all the world in their Chamber.
 
 
Jail. They are fam'd to be a pair of absolute men.
 
 
Daugh. By my troth, I think Fame but stammers 'em, they
Stand a grief above the reach of report.
 
 
Jail. I heard them reported in the battel, to be the only doers.
 
 
Daugh. Nay, most likely, for they are noble sufferers; I
Marvel how they would have look'd, had they been
Victors, that with such a constant Nobility, enforce
A freedom out of bondage, making misery their
Mirth, and affliction a toy to jest at.
 
 
Jail. Doe they so?
 
 
Daugh. It seems to me, they have no more sence of their
Captivity, than I of ruling Athens: they eat
Well, look merrily, discourse of many things,
But nothing of their own restraint, and disasters:
Yet sometime a divided sigh, martyr'd as 'twere
I' th' deliverance, will break from one of them,
When the other presently gives it so sweet a rebuke,
That I could wish my self a sigh to be so chid,
Or at least a sigher to be comforted.
 
 
Wooer. I never saw 'em.
 
 
Jail. The Duke himself came privately in the night.
 

Enter Palamon, and Arcite above

 
And so did they, what the reason of it is, I
Know not: Look, yonder they are; that's
Arcite looks out.
 
 
Daugh. No Sir, no, that's Palamon: Arcite is the
Lower of the twain; you may perceive a part
Of him.
 
 
Jail. Go to, leave your pointing; they would not
Make us their object; out of their sight.
 
 
Daugh. It is a holliday to look on them: Lord, the
Difference of men.
 

[Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda

Enter Palamon, and Arcite in prison

 
Pal. How do you, Noble Cosin?
 
 
Arcite. How do you, Sir?
 
 
Pal. Why, strong enough to laugh at misery,
And bear the chance of war yet, we are prisoners
I fear for ever Cosin.
 
 
Arcite. I believe it,
And to that destiny have patiently
Laid up my hour to come.
 
 
Pal. Oh Cosin Arcite,
Where is Thebs now? where is our noble Countrey?
Where are our friends, and kindreds? never more
Must we behold those comforts, never see
The hardy youths strive for the Games of honor
(Hung with the painted favours of their Ladies)
Like tall Ships under Sail: then start amongst 'em
And as an Eastwind leave 'em all behind us,
Like lazy Clouds, whilst Palamon and Arcite,
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg
Out-stript the peoples praises, won the Garlands,
E'r they have time to wish 'em ours. Oh never
Shall we two exercise, like twins of honor,
Our Arms again, and feel our fiery horses,
Like proud Seas under us, our good Swords, now
(Better the red-ey'd god of War nev'r were)
Bravish'd 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 light'ning
To blast whole Armies more.
 
 
Arcite. No Palamon,
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
Loaden with kisses, arm'd with thousand Cupids
Shall never claspe our necks, no issue know us,
No figures of our selves shall we ev'r see,
To glad our age, and like young Eagles teach 'em
Boldly to gaze against bright arms, and say
Remember what your Fathers were, and conquer.
The fair-ey'd 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;
We shall know nothing here, but one another,
Hear nothing, but the clock that tels 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.
 
 
Pal. 'Tis too true Arcite. To our Theban hounds,
That shook the aged Forrest with their ecchoes,
No more now must we hollo, no more shake
Our pointed Javelins, whilst the angry Swine
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
Struck with our well-steel'd 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 honor) lastly,
Children of grief, and Ignorance.
 
 
Arc. Yet Cosin,
Even from the bottom of these miseries
From all that fortune can inflict upon us,
I see two comforts rising, two meer blessings,
If the gods please, to hold here a brave patience,
And the enjoying of our griefs together.
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish
If I think this our prison.
 
 
Pala. Certainly,
'Tis a main goodness, Cosin, that our fortunes
Were twin'd together; 'tis most true, two souls
Put in two noble bodies, let 'em suffer
The gaul of hazard, so they grow together,
Will never sink, they must not, say they could,
A willing man dies sleeping, and all's done.
 
 
Arc. Shall we make worthy uses of this place
That all men hate so much?
 
 
Pal. How gentle Cosin?
 
 
Arc. Let's think this prison, Holy Sanctuary,
To keep us from corruption of worse men,
We are young, and yet desire the wayes of honour,
That liberty and common conversation,
The poison of pure spirits, might, like women,
Wooe 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 anothers Wife, ever begetting
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
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
Crave our acquaintance, I might sicken Cosin,
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.
 
 
Pal. You have made me
(I thank you Cosin Arcite) almost wanton
With my Captivity: what a misery
It is to live abroad! and every where:
'Tis like a Beast me thinks: I find the Court here,
I 'm sure a more content, and all those pleasures
That wooe 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,
Where sin is Justice, Lust, and Ignorance,
The virtues of the great ones: Cosin Arcite
Had not the loving gods found this place for us
We had di'd as they doe, ill old men unwept,
And had their Epitaphs, the peoples Curses,
Shall I say more?
 
 
Arc. I would hear you still.
 
 
Pal. Ye shall.
Is there record of any two that lov'd
Better than we two Arcite?
 
 
Arc. Sure there cannot.
 
 
Pal. I doe not think it possible our friendship
Should ever leave us.
 
 
Arc. Till our deaths it cannot.
 

Enter Emilia and her Woman

 
And after death our spirits shall be led
To those that love eternally. Speak on Sir.
This Garden has a world of pleasures in't.
 
 
Emil. What Flower is this?
 
 
Wom. 'Tis call'd Narcissus, Madam.
 
 
Emil. That was a fair Boy certain, but a fool,
To love himself, were there not Maids enough?
 
 
Arc. Pray forward.
 
 
Pal. Yes.
 
 
Emil. Or were they all hard-hearted?
 
 
Wom. They could not be to one so fair.
 
 
Emil. Thou wouldst not.
 
 
Wom. I think I should not, Madam.
 
 
Emil. That's a good wench:
But take heed to your kindness though.
 
 
Wom. Why Madam?
 
 
Emil. Men are mad things.
 
 
Arcite. Will ye go forward, Cosin?
 
 
Emil. Canst not thou work such Flowers in Silk wench?
 
 
Wom. Yes.
 
 
Emil. I'll have a Gown full of 'em, and of these,
This is a pretty colour, wil't not do
Rarely upon a skirt wench?
 
 
Wom. Dainty Madam.
 
 
Arc. Cosin, Cosin, how do you, Sir? Why Palamon?
 
 
Pal. Never till now, I was in prison Arcite.
 
 
Arc. Why, what's the matter man?
 
 
Pal. Behold, and wonder.
By heaven she is a Goddess.
 
 
Arcite. Ha.
 
 
Pal. Do reverence.
She is a Goddess Arcite.
 
 
Emil. Of all Flowers,
Methinks a Rose is best.
 
 
Wom. Why gentle Madam?
 
 
Emil. 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,
Rude and impatient, then like Chastity
She locks her beauties in her bud again,
And leaves him to base briers.
 
 
Wom. Yet good Madam,
Sometimes her modesty will blow so far
She falls for't: a Maid
If she have any honor, would be loth
To take example by her.
 
 
Emil. Thou art wanton.
 
 
Arc. She is wondrous fair.
 
 
Pal. She is all the beauty extant.
 
 
Emil. The Sun grows high, let's walk in, keep these flowers,
We'll see how near Art can come near their colours;
I'm wondrous merry-hearted, I could laugh now.
 
 
Wom. I could lie down I am sure.
 
 
Emil. And take one with you?
 
 
Wom. That's as we bargain, Madam.
 
 
Emil. Well, agree then.
 

[Exeunt Emilia and Woman.

 
Pal. What think you of this beauty?
 
 
Arc. 'Tis a rare one.
 
 
Pal. Is't but a rare one?
 
 
Arc. Yes, a matchless beauty.
 
 
Pal. Might not a man well lose himself, and love her?
 
 
Arc. I cannot tell what you have done, I have,
Beshrew mine eyes for't, now I feel my Shackles.
 
 
Pal. You love her then?
 
 
Arc. Who would not?
 
 
Pal. And desire her?
 
 
Arc. Before my liberty.
 
 
Pal. I saw her first.
 
 
Arc. That's nothing.
 
 
Pal. But it shall be.
 
 
Arc. I saw her too.
 
 
Pal. Yes, but you must not love her.
 
 
Arc. 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)
So both may love.
 
 
Pal. You shall not love at all.
 
 
Arc. Not love at all;
Who shall denie me?
 
 
Pal. I that first saw her; I that took possession
First with mine eye of all those beauties
In her reveal'd to mankind: if thou lov'st 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, bloud
And all the ties between us I disclai[m]
If thou once think upon her.
 
 
Arc. 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, farewel Palamon.
I say again, I love, 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 mans Son.
 
 
Pal. Have I call'd thee friend?
 
 
Arc. Yes, and have found me so; why are you mov'd 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.
 
 
Pal. Yes.
 
 
Arc. Am not I liable to those affections,
Those joyes, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall suffer?
 
 
Pal. Ye may be.
 
 
Arc. 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?
 
 
Pal. No, but unjust,
If thou pursue that [si]ght.
 
 
Arc. Because another
First sees the Enemy, shall I stand still
And let mine honor down, and never charge?
 
 
Pal. Yes, if he be but one.
 
 
Arc. But say that one
Had rather combat me?
 
 
Pal. Let that one say so,
And use thy freedom: else if thou pursuest her,
Be as that cursed man that hates his Countrey,
A branded villain.
 
 
Arc. You are mad.
 
 
Pal. I must be.
Till thou art worthy, Arcite, it concerns me,
And in this madness, if I hazard thee
And take thy life, I deal but truly.
 
 
Arc. Fie Sir.
You play the child extreamly: I will love her,
I must, I ought to do so, and I dare,
And all this justly.
 
 
Pal. Oh that now, that now
Thy false-self, and thy friend, had but this fortune
To be one hour at liberty, and graspe
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,
And as I have a soul, I'll nail thy life to't.
 
 
Arc. 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.
 

Enter Keeper

 
And pitch between her Arms to anger thee.
 
 
Pal. No more; the Keepers coming; I shall live
To knock thy brains out with my Shackles.
 
 
Arc. Doe.
 
 
Keep. By your leave, Gentlemen.
 
 
Pala. Now honest Keeper?
 
 
Keep. Lord Arcite, you must presently to th' Duke;
The cause I know not yet.
 
 
Arc. I am ready Keeper.
 
 
Keep. Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you
Of your fair Cosins company.
 

[Exeunt Arcite, and Keeper.

 
Pal. And me too,
Even when you please of life; why is he sent for?
It may be he shall marry her, he's goodly,
And like enough the Duke hath taken notice
Both of his Bloud and Body: but his falshood,
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,
And Fruit, and Flowers more blessed that still blossom
As her bright eies shine on ye. Would I were
For all the fortune of my life hereafter
Yon little Tree, yon blooming Apricock;
How I would spread, and fling my wanton arms
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.
 

Enter Keeper

 
And then I'm sure she would love me: how now Keeper,
Where's Arcite?
 
 
Keep. Banish'd: Prince Pirithous
Obtain'd his liberty; but never more
Upon his oath and life must he set foot
Upon this Kingdom.
 
 
Pal. He's a blessed man,
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 battel for her;
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,
This blushing Virgin should take manhood to her
And seek to ravish me.
 
 
Keep. My Lord for you
I have this charge too.
 
 
Pal. To discharge my life.
 
 
Keep. No, but from this place to remove your Lordship,
The windows are too open.
 
 
Pal. Devils take 'em
That are so envious to me; prethee kill me.
 
 
Keep. And hang for't afterward.
 
 
Pal. By this good light
Had I a sword I would kill thee.
 
 
Keep. Why my Lord?
 
 
Pal. Thou bring'st such pelting scurvy news continually
Thou art not worthy life; I will not go.
 
 
Keep. Indeed you must my Lord.
 
 
Pal. May I see the Garden?
 
 
Keep. No.
 
 
Pal. Then I am resolv'd, I will not go.
 
 
Keep. I must constrain you then: and, for you are dangerous
I'll clap more irons on you.
 
 
Pal. Doe good Keeper.
I'll shake 'em so, ye shall not sleep,
I'll make ye a new Morri[ss]e, must I goe?
 
 
Keep. There is no remedy.
 
 
Pal. Farewel kind window.
May rude wind never hurt thee. Oh my Lady,
If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was,
Dream how I suffer. Come; now bury me.
 

[Exeunt Palamon and Keeper.