Сборники Художественной, Технической, Справочной, Английской, Нормативной, Исторической, и др. литературы.

The Two Noble Kinsmen by Shakespeare W.

TITLE Title Page

                                                        The Two Noble Kinsmen

CONTENTS Table of Contents

 Prologue    PROLOGUE
 Act 1    1.0
   Scene 1    1.1
   Scene 2    1.2
   Scene 3    1.3
   Scene 4    1.4
   Scene 5    1.5
 Act 2    2.0
   Scene 1    2.1
   Scene 2    2.2
   Scene 3    2.3
   Scene 4    2.4
   Scene 5    2.5
   Scene 6    2.6
 Act 3    3.0
   Scene 1    3.1
   Scene 2    3.2
   Scene 3    3.3
   Scene 4    3.4
   Scene 5    3.5
   Scene 6    3.6
 Act 4    4.0
   Scene 1    4.1
   Scene 2    4.2
   Scene 3    4.3
 Act 5    5.0
   Scene 1    5.1
   Scene 2    5.2
   Scene 3    5.3
   Scene 4    5.4
   Scene 5    5.5
   Scene 6    5.6
 Dramatis Personae    6.0

 Glossary    GLOSSARY


    Flourish. Enter Prologue

    New plays and maidenheads are near akin:
    Much followed both, for both much money giv'n
    If they stand sound and well. And a good play,
    Whose modest scenes blush on his marriage day
    And shake to lose his honour, is like her
    That after holy tie and first night's stir
    Yet still is modesty, and still retains
    More of the maid to sight than husband's pains.
    We pray our play may be so, for I am sure
    It has a noble breeder and a pure,
    A learnЉd, and a poet never went
    More famous yet 'twixt Po and silver Trent.
    Chaucer, of all admired, the story gives:
    There constant to eternity it lives.
    If we let fall the nobleness of this
    And the first sound this child hear be a hiss,
    How will it shake the bones of that good man,
    And make him cry from under ground, 'O fan
    From me the witless chaff of such a writer,
    That blasts my bays and my famed works makes lighter
    Than Robin Hood'? This is the fear we bring,
    For to say truth, it were an endless thing
    And too ambitious to aspire to him,
    Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim
    In this deep water. Do but you hold out
    Your helping hands and we shall tack about
    And something do to save us. You shall hear
    Scenes, though below his art, may yet appear
    Worth two hours' travail. To his bones, sweet sleep;
    Content to you. If this play do not keep
    A little dull time from us, we perceive
    Our losses fall so thick we must needs leave.
    Flourish. Exit

1.0 Act 1

1.1 Scene 1

    Music. Enter Hymen with a torch burning, a Boy
    in a white robe before, singing and strewing flowers.  After Hymen, a
    nymph encompassed in her tresses, bearing a wheaten garland.  Then
    Theseus between two other nymphs with wheaten chaplets on their heads.
    Then Hippolyta, the bride, led by Pirithous and another holding a
    garland over her head, her tresses likewise hanging.  After her, Emilia
    holding up her train.  Then Artesius (and other attendants)

    (sings during procession)
           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,
           And sweet thyme true;
           Primrose, first-born child of Ver,
           Merry springtime's harbinger,
           With harebells dim;
           Oxlips, in their cradles growing,
           Marigolds, on deathbeds blowing,
           Lark's-heels trim;
           All dear nature's children sweet,
           Lie fore bride and bridegroom's feet,
    He strews flowers
           Blessing their sense.
           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,
           Nor chatt'ring pie,
           May on our bridehouse 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

    (to Theseus)
    For pity's sake and true gentility's,
    Hear and respect me.

    (to Hippolyta)
    For your mother's sake,
    And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,
    Hear and respect me.

    (to Emilia)
    Now for the love of him whom Jove hath marked
    The honour of your bed, and for the sake
    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.

    (to First Queen)
    Sad lady, rise.

    (to Second Queen)
    Stand up.

    (to Third Queen)
    No knees to me.What woman I may stead that is distressed
    Does bind me to her.

    (to First Queen)
    What's your request? Deliver you for all.

    (kneeling still)
    We are three queens whose sovereigns fell before
    The wrath of cruel Creon; who endured
    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
    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;
    And of thy boundless goodness take some note
    That for our crownЉd heads we have no roof,
    Save this, which is the lion's and the bear's,
    And vault to everything.

    Pray you, kneel not:
    I was transported with your speech, and suffered
    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.
    King Capaneus was your lord: the day
    That he should marry you - at such a season
    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
    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.

    (kneeling still)
    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.

    O no knees, none, widow:
    (The First Queen rises)
    Unto the helmeted Bellona use them
    And pray for me, your soldier. Troubled I am.
    He turns away

    (kneeling still)
    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
    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,
    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,
    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.
    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 swoll'n,
    Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon,
    What you would do.

    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.
    I'll speak anon.
    (The Second Queen rises)

    (kneeling (still) to Emilia)
    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.

    Pray stand up:
    Your grief is written in your cheek.

    O woe,
    You cannot read it there; there, through my tears,
    Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,
    You may behold 'em.
    (The Third Queen rises)
    Lady, lady, alack -
    He that will all the treasure know o'th' earth
    Must know the centre too; he that will fish
    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.

    Pray you, say nothing, pray you.
    Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in't,
    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,
    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.

    Forward to th' temple. Leave not out a jot
    O'th' sacred ceremony.

    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
    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.

    What griefs our beds,
    That our dear lords have none.

    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.

    But our lords
    Lie blist'ring fore the visitating sun,
    And were good kings, when living.

    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.

    And that work 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,
    Not dreams we stand before your puissance
    Rinsing our holy begging in our eyes
    To make petition clear.

    Now you may take him,
    Drunk with his victory.

    And his army full
    Of bread and sloth.

    Artesius, that best knowest
    How to draw out, fit to this enterprise
    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.

    (to the other two Queens)
    Dowagers, take hands;
    Let us be widows to our woes; delay
    Commends us to a famishing hope.


    We come unseasonably, but when could grief
    Cull forth, as unpanged judgement can, fitt'st time
    For best solicitation?

    Why, good ladies,
    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.

    The more proclaiming
    Our suit shall be neglected when her arms,
    Able to lock Jove from a synod, shall
    By warranting moonlight corslet thee! O when
    Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall
    Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou think
    Of rotten kings or blubbered queens? What care
    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
    That banquet bids thee to.

    (to Theseus)
    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
    That craves a present medicine, I should pluck
    All ladies' scandal on me. (Kneels) Therefore, sir,
    As I shall here make trial of my prayers,
    Either presuming them to have some force,
    Or sentencing for aye their vigour dumb,
    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.

    (to Emilia)
    O, help now,
    Our cause cries for your knee.

    (kneels to Theseus)
    If you grant not
    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.

    Pray stand up.
    (They rise)
    I am entreating of myself to do
    That which you kneel to have me. - Pirithous,
    Lead on the bride: get you and pray the gods
    For success and return; omit not anything
    In the pretended celebration. - Queens,
    Follow your soldier. (To Artesius) 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 Artesius
    (To Hippolyta) Since that our theme is haste,
    I stamp this kiss upon thy current lip -
    Sweet, keep it as my token. (To the wedding party)Set
    you forward,
    For I will see you gone.
    (To Emilia) Farewell, my beauteous sister. - Pirithous,
    Keep the feast full: bate not an hour on't.

    I'll follow you at heels. The feast's solemnity
    Shall want till your return.

    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.
    Exeunt Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous, and train
    towards the temple

    Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o'th' world.

    And earn'st a deity equal with Mars -

    If not above him, for
    Thou being but mortal mak'st affections bend
    To godlike honours; they themselves, some say,
    Groan under such a mast'ry.

    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

1.2 Scene 2

    Enter Palamon and 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.
    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
    Where we should turn or drown; if labour through,
    Our gain but life and weakness.

    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
    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 flirted
    By peace for whom he fought. Who then shall offer
    To Mars's so-scorned altar? I do bleed
    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
    Than strife or war could be.

    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
    But th' unconsidered soldier?

    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.

    'Tis not this
    I did begin to speak of. This is virtue,
    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 ev'n jump
    As they are here were to be strangers, and
    Such things to be, mere monsters.

    '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
    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
    Follows his tailor, haply so long until
    The followed make pursuit? Or let me know
    Why mine own barber is unblest - with him
    My poor chin, too - for'tis not scissored just
    To such a favourite's glass? What canon is there
    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
    Need not a plantain. That which rips my bosom
    Almost to th' heart's -

    Our uncle Creon.

    A most unbounded tyrant, whose successes
    Makes heaven unfeared and villainy assured
    Beyond its power there's nothing; almost puts
    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's service,
    And what they win in't, boot and glory; one
    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.

    Clear-spirited cousin,
    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.

    Nothing truer.
    I think the echoes of his shames have deafed
    The ears of heav'nly justice. Widows' cries
    Descend again into their throats and have not
    Enter Valerius
    Due audience of the gods - Valerius.

    The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footed
    Till his great rage be off him. Phoebus, when
    He broke his whipstock and exclaimed against
    The horses of the sun, but whispered to
    The loudness of his fury.

    Small winds shake him.
    But what's the matter?

    Theseus, who where he threats, appals, hath sent
    Deadly defiance to him and pronounces
    Ruin to Thebes, who is at hand to seal
    The promise of his wrath.

    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 action's dregged with mind assured
    'Tis bad he goes about.

    Leave that unreasoned.
    Our services stand now for Thebes, not Creon,
    Yet to be neutral to him were dishonour,
    Rebellious to oppose. Therefore we must
    With him stand to the mercy of our fate,
    Who hath bounded our last minute.

    So we must.
    Is't said this war's afoot? Or it shall be
    On fail of some condition?

    'Tis in motion,
    The intelligence of state came in the instant
    With the defier.

    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,
    Rather laid out for purchase. But, alas,
    Our hands advanced before our hearts, what will
    The fall o'th' stroke do damage?

    Let th' event -
    That never-erring arbitrator - tell us
    When we know all ourselves, and let us follow
    The becking of our chance.

1.3 Scene 3

    Enter Pirithous, Hippolyta, and Emilia

    No further.

    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;
    Store never hurts good governors.

    Though I know
    His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they
    Must yield their tribute there. (To Emilia) My precious
    Those best affections that the heavens infuse
    In their best-tempered pieces keep enthroned
    In your dear heart.

    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
    What I shall be advised she likes. Our hearts
    Are in his army, in his tent.

    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
    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.

    Peace be to you
    As I pursue this war, which shall be then
    Beyond further requiring.
    Exit Pirithous

    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
    Playing one business in his hand, another
    Directing in his head, his mind nurse equal
    To these so diff'ring twins. Have you observed him
    Since our great lord departed?

    With much labour;
    And I did love him for't. They two have cabined
    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
    Fought out together where death's self was lodged;
    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,
    Cleaving his conscience into twain and doing
    Each side like justice, which he loves best.

    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 playfellow;
    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.

    'Twas Flavina.

    You talk of Pirithous' and Theseus' love:
    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,
    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 -
    No more arraignment. The flower that I would pluck
    And put between my breasts - O 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, phoenix-like,
    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,
    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, seely innocence wots well, comes in
    Like old emportment's bastard - has this end:
    That the true love 'tween maid and maid may be
    More than in sex dividual.

    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.

    I am sure I shall not.

    Now alack, weak sister,
    I must no more believe thee in this point -
    Though in't I know thou dost believe thyself -
    Than I will trust a sickly appetite
    That loathes even as it longs. But sure, my sister,
    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
    The high throne in his heart.

    I am not
    Against your faith, yet I continue mine.

1.4 Scene 4

    Cornetts. A battle struck within. Then a retreat.
    Flourish. Then enter Theseus, victor. The three Queens meet
    him and fall on their faces before him.
    (Also enter a Herald, and attendants bearing
    Palamon and Arcite on two hearses)

    (to Theseus)
    To thee no star be dark.

    (to Theseus)
    Both heaven and
    earthFriend thee for ever.

    (to Theseus)
    All the good that may
    Be wished upon thy head, I cry 'Amen' to't.

    Th'impartial gods, who from the mounted heavens
    View us their mortal herd, behold who err
    And in their time chastise. Go and find out
    The bones of your dead lords and honour them
    With treble ceremony: rather than a gap
    Should be in their dear rites 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 heaven's good eyes look on you.
    Exeunt the Queens
    What are those?

    Men of great quality, as may be judged
    By their appointment. Some of Thebes have told's
    They are sisters' children, nephews to the King.

    By th' helm of Mars I saw them in the war,
    Like to a pair of lions smeared with prey,
    Make lanes in troops aghast. I fixed my note
    Constantly on them, for they were a mark
    Worth a god's view. What prisoner was't that told me
    When I enquired their names?

    Wi' leave, they're called
    Arcite and Palamon.

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

    Nor in a state of life. Had they been taken
    When their last hurts were given, 'twas possible
    They might have been recovered. Yet they breathe,
    And have the name of men.

    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 balms,
    Rather than niggard, waste. Their lives concern us
    Much more than Thebes 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-thousandfold 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' behests,
    Love's provocations, zeal, a mistress' task,
    Desire of liberty, a fever, madness,
    Hath set a mark which nature could not reach to
    Without some imposition, sickness in will
    O'er-wrestling strength in reason. For our love
    And great Apollo's mercy, all our best
    Their best skill tender. - Lead into the city
    Where, having bound things scattered, we will post
    To Athens fore our army.
    Flourish. Exeunt

1.5 Scene 5

    Music. Enter the three Queens with the hearses of
    their lords in a funeral solemnity, with attendants
           Urns and odours, bring away,
           Vapours, sighs, darken the day;
           Our dole more deadly looks than dying.
           Balms and gums and heavy cheers,
           Sacred vials filled with tears,
           And clamours through the wild air flying:
           Come all sad and solemn shows,
           That are quick-eyed pleasure's foes.
           We convent naught else but woes,
           We convent naught else but woes.

    This funeral path brings to your household's grave -
    Joy seize on you again, peace sleep with him.

    And this to yours.

    Yours this way. Heavens lend
    A thousand differing ways to one sure end.

    This world's a city full of straying streets,
    And death's the market-place where each one meets.
    Exeunt severally

2.0 Act 2

2.1 Scene 1

    Enter the Jailer and the Wooer

    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 lined than it can appear to
    me report is a true speaker. I would I were really that
    I am delivered to be. Marry, what I have - be it what
    it will - I will assure upon my daughter at the day of
    my death.

    Sir, I demand no more than your own offer, and
    I will estate your daughter in what I have promised.

    Well, we will talk more of this when the solemnity
    is past. But have you a full promise of her?
    Enter the Jailer's Daughter with rushes
    When that shall be seen, I tender my consent.

    I have, sir. Here she comes.

    (to Daughter)
    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.

    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 ashamed; the prison itself is proud of 'em,
    and they have all the world in their chamber.

    They are famed to be a pair of absolute men.

    By my troth, I think fame but stammers
    'em - they stand a grece above the reach of report.

    I heard them reported in the battle to be the only

    Nay, most likely, for they are noble
    sufferers. I marvel how they would have looked 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.

    Do they so?

    It seems to me they have no more
    sense 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 - martyred 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 myself a sigh to be so chid, or at least a sigher
    to be comforted.

    I never saw 'em.

    The Duke himself came privately in the night,
    Palamon and Arcite appear (at a window) above
    and so did they. What the reason of it is I know not.
    Look, yonder they are. That's Arcite looks out.

    No, sir, no - that's Palamon. Arcite is
    the lower of the twain - (pointing at Arcite) you may
    perceive a part of him.

    Go to, leave your pointing. They would not make
    us their object. Out of their sight.

    It is a holiday to look on them. Lord,
    the difference of men!

2.2 Scene 2

    Enter Palamon and Arcite in prison, (in shackles,

    How do you, noble cousin?

    How do you, sir?

    Why, strong enough to laugh at misery
    And bear the chance of war. Yet we are prisoners,
    I fear, for ever, cousin.

    I believe it,
    And to that destiny have patiently
    Laid up my hour to come.

    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,
    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,
    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 -
    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.

    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, 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,
    '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.
    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.

    'Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds
    That shook the agЉd forest with their echoes,
    No more now must we holler; no more shake
    Our pointed javelins whilst the angry swine
    Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
    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.

    Yet, cousin,
    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.
    Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish
    If I think this our prison.

    'Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes
    Were twined together. 'Tis most true, two souls
    Put in two noble bodies, let 'em suffer
    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.

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

    How, gentle cousin?

    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,
    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
    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, 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.

    You have made me -
    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
    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,
    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.
    Shall I say more?

    I would hear you still.

    Ye shall.
    Is there record of any two that loved
    Better than we do, Arcite?

    Sure there cannot.

    I do not think it possible our friendship
    Should ever leave us.

    Till our deaths it cannot,
    Enter Emilia and her Woman (below). Palamon sees
    Emilia and is silent
    And after death our spirits shall be led
    To those that love eternally. Speak on, sir.

    (to her Woman)
    This garden has a world of pleasure in't.
    What flower is this?

    'Tis called narcissus, madam.

    That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool
    To love himself. Were there not maids enough?

    (to Palamon)
    Pray forward.


    (to her Woman)
    Or were they all hard-hearted?

    They could not be to one so fair.

    Thou wouldst not.

    I think I should not, madam.

    That's a good wench -
    But take heed to your kindness, though.

    Why, madam?

    Men are mad things.

    (to Palamon)
    Will ye go forward, cousin?

    (to her Woman)
    Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench?


    I'll have a gown full of 'em, and of these.
    This is a pretty colour - will't not do
    Rarely upon a skirt, wench?

    Dainty, madam.

    (to Palamon)
    Cousin, cousin, how do you, sir? Why, Palamon!

    Never till now was I in prison, Arcite.

    Why, what's the matter, man?

    Behold and wonder!
    Arcite sees Emilia
    By heaven, she is a goddess!


    Do reverence.
    She is a goddess, Arcite.

    (to her Woman)
    Of all flowers
    Methinks a rose is best.

    Why, gentle madam?

    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.

    Yet, good madam,
    Sometimes her modesty will blow so far
    She falls for't - a maid,
    If she have any honour, would be loath
    To take example by her.

    Thou art wanton.

    (to Palamon)
    She is wondrous fair.

    She is all the beauty extant.

    (to her Woman)
    The sun grows high - let's walk in. Keep these flowers.
    We'll see how close art can come near their colours.
    I am wondrous merry-hearted - I could laugh now.

    I could lie down, I am sure.

    And take one with you?

    That's as we bargain, madam.

    Well, agree then.
    Exeunt Emilia and her Woman

    What think you of this beauty?

    'Tis a rare one.

    Is't but a rare one?

    Yes, a matchless beauty.

    Might not a man well lose himself and love her?

    I cannot tell what you have done; I have,
    Beshrew mine eyes for't. Now I feel my shackles.

    You love her then?

    Who would not?

    And desire her?

    Before my liberty.

    I saw her first.

    That's nothing.

    But it shall be.

    I saw her too.

    Yes, but you must not love her.

    I will not, as you do, to worship her
    As she is heavenly and a blessЉd goddess!
    I love her as a woman, to enjoy her -
    So both may love.

    You shall not love at all.

    Not love at all - who shall deny me?

    I that first saw her, I that took possession
    First with mine eye of all those beauties
    In her revealed 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, blood,
    And all the ties between us I disclaim,
    If thou once think upon her.

    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,
    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.

    Have I called thee friend?

    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.


    Am not I liable to those affections,
    Those joys, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall suffer?

    Ye may be.

    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?

    No, but unjust
    If thou pursue that sight.

    Because another
    First sees the enemy, shall I stand still,
    And let mine honour down, and never charge?

    Yes, if he be but one.

    But say that one
    Had rather combat me?

    Let that one say so,
    And use thy freedom; else, if thou pursuest her,
    Be as that cursЉd man that hates his country,
    A branded villain.

    You are mad.

    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.

    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.

    O, that now, that now
    Thy false self and thy friend had but this fortune -
    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
    And, as I have a soul, I'll nail thy life to't.

    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 the Jailer (above)
    And pitch between her arms to anger thee.

    No more - the keeper's coming. I shall live
    To knock thy brains out with my shackles.


    By your leave, gentlemen.

    Now, honest keeper?

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

    I am ready, keeper.

    Prince Palamon, I must a while bereave you
    Of your fair cousin's company.
    Exeunt Arcite and the Jailer

    And me, too,
    Even when you please, of life. Why is he sent for?
    It may be he shall marry her - he's goodly,
    And like enough the Duke hath taken notice
    Both of his blood and body. But his falsehood!
    Why should a friend be treacherous? If that
    Get him a wife so noble and so fair,
    Let honest men ne'er love again. Once more
    I would but see this fair one. BlessЉd garden,
    And fruit and flowers more blessЉd, 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 apricot -
    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 the Jailer (above)
    And then I am sure she would love me. How now, keeper,
    Where's Arcite?

    Banished - Prince Pirithous
    Obtained his liberty; but never more,
    Upon his oath and life, must he set foot
    Upon this kingdom.

    He's a blessЉd 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 battle 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.

    My lord, for you
    I have this charge to -

    To discharge my life.

    No, but from this place to remove your lordship -
    The windows are too open.

    Devils take 'em
    That are so envious to me - prithee kill me.

    And hang for't afterward?

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

    Why, my lord?

    Thou bring'st such pelting scurvy news continually,
    Thou art not worthy life. I will not go.

    Indeed you must, my lord.

    May I see the garden?


    Then I am resolved - I will not go.

    I must constrain you, then; and for you are dangerous,
    I'll clap more irons on you.

    Do, good keeper.
    I'll shake 'em so ye shall not sleep:
    I'll make ye a new morris. Must I go?

    There is no remedy.

    Farewell, kind window.
    May rude wind never hurt thee. O, my lady,
    If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was,
    Dream how I suffer. Come, now bury me.
    Exeunt Palamon and the Jailer

2.3 Scene 3

    Enter 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 -
    O, 'twas a studied punishment, a death
    Beyond imagination; such a vengeance
    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
    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,
    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,
    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 Country People, one of whom carries a
    garland before them. Arcite stands apart

    My masters, I'll be there - that's certain.

    And I'll be there.

    And I.

    Why then, have with ye, boys! 'Tis but a chiding -
    Let the plough play today, I'll tickle't out
    Of the jades' tails tomorrow.

    I am sure
    To have my wife as jealous as a turkey -
    But that's all one. I'll go through, let her mumble.

    Clap her aboard tomorrow night and stow her,
    And all's made up again.

    Ay, do but put
    A fescue in her fist and you shall see her
    Take a new lesson out and be a good wench.
    Do we all hold against the maying?

    Hold? What should ail us?

    Arcas will be there.

    And Sennois, and Rycas, and three
    better lads ne'er danced 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.

    He'll eat a hornbook ere he fail. Go
    to, the matter's too far driven between him and the
    tanner's daughter to let slip now, and she must see the
    Duke, and she must dance too.

    Shall we be lusty?

    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 and there again - ha, boys,
    hey for the weavers!

    This must be done i'th' woods.

    O, pardon me.

    By any means, our thing of learning
    said so; where he himself will edify the Duke most
    parlously in our behalfs - he's excellent i'th' woods,
    bring him to th' plains, his learning makes no cry.

    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.

    Content - the sports once ended,
    we'll perform. Away boys, and hold.

    (coming forward)
    By your leaves, honest friends, pray you whither go you?

    Whither? Why, what a question's that?

    Yet 'tis a question
    To me that know not.

    To the games, my friend.

    Where were you bred, you know it not?

    Not far, sir -
    Are there such games today?

    Yes, marry, are there,
    And such as you never saw. The Duke himself
    Will be in person there.

    What pastimes are they?

    Wrestling and running. (To the others) 'Tis a pretty

    (to Arcite)
    Thou wilt not go along?

    Not yet, sir.

    Well, sir,
    Take your own time. (To the others) Come, boys.

    My mind misgives me -
    This fellow has a vengeance trick o'th' hip:
    Mark how his body's made for't.

    I'll be hanged though
    If he dare venture; hang him, plum porridge!
    He wrestle? He roast eggs! Come, let's be gone, lads.
    Exeunt the four Countrymen

    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,
    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?

2.4 Scene 4

    Enter the Jailer's Daughter

    Why should I love this gentleman? 'Tis odds
    He never will affect me. I am base,
    My father the mean keeper of his prison,
    And he a prince. To marry him is hopeless,
    To be his whore is witless. Out upon't,
    What pushes are we wenches driven to
    When fifteen once has found us? First, I saw him;
    I, seeing, thought he was a goodly man;
    He has as much to please a woman in him -
    If he please to bestow it so - as ever
    These eyes yet looked on. Next, I pitied him,
    And so would any young wench, o' my conscience,
    That ever dreamed or vowed her maidenhead
    To a young handsome man. Then, I loved him,
    Extremely loved him, infinitely loved him -
    And yet he had a cousin fair as he, too.
    But in my heart was Palamon, and there,
    Lord, what a coil he keeps! To hear him
    Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is!
    And yet his songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken
    Was never gentleman. When I come in
    To bring him water in a morning, first
    He bows his noble body, then salutes me, thus:
    'Fair, gentle maid, good morrow. May thy goodness
    Get thee a happy husband.' Once he kissed me -
    I loved my lips the better ten days after.
    Would he would do so every day! He grieves much,
    And me as much to see his misery.
    What should I do to make him know I love him?
    For I would fain enjoy him. Say I ventured
    To set him free? What says the law then? Thus much
    For law or kindred! I will do it,
    And this night; ere tomorrow he shall love me.

2.5 Scene 5

    Short flourish of cornetts and shouts within.
    Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Emilia, Arcite
    disguised, with a  garland, and attendants

    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.

    I am proud to please you.

    What country bred you?

    This - but far off, prince.

    Are you a gentleman?

    My father said so,
    And to those gentle uses gave me life.

    Are you his heir?

    His youngest, sir.

    Your father
    Sure is a happy sire, then. What proves you?

    A little of all noble qualities.
    I could have kept a hawk and well have hollered
    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.

    You are perfect.

    Upon my soul, a proper man.

    He is so.

    (to Hippolyta)
    How do you like him, lady?

    I admire him.
    I have not seen so young a man so noble -
    If he say true - of his sort.

    His mother was a wondrous handsome woman -
    His face methinks goes that way.

    But his body
    And fiery mind illustrate a brave father.

    Mark how his virtue, like a hidden sun,
    Breaks through his baser garments.

    He's well got, sure.

    (to Arcite)
    What made you seek this place, sir?

    Noble Theseus,
    To purchase name and do my ablest service
    To such a well-found wonder as thy worth,
    For only in thy court of all the world
    Dwells fair-eyed honour.

    All his words are worthy.

    (to Arcite)
    Sir, we are much indebted to your travel,
    Nor shall you lose your wish. - Pirithous,
    Dispose of this fair gentleman.

    Thanks, Theseus.
    (To Arcite) Whate'er you are, you're mine, and I shall
    give you
    To a most noble service, to this lady,
    This bright young virgin; pray observe her goodness.
    You have honoured her fair birthday with your virtues,
    And as your due you're hers. Kiss her fair hand, sir.

    Sir, you're a noble giver. (To Emilia) Dearest beauty,
    Thus let me seal my vowed faith.
    He kisses her hand
    When your servant,
    Your most unworthy creature, but offends you,
    Command him die, he shall.

    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.

    (to Arcite)
    I'll see you furnished, and, because you say
    You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you
    This afternoon to ride - but 'tis a rough one.

    I like him better, prince - I shall not then
    Freeze in my saddle.

    (to Hippolyta)
    Sweet, you must be ready -
    And you, Emilia, (to Pirithous) and you, friend -
    and all,
    Tomorrow by the sun, to do observance
    To flow'ry May in Dian's wood. (To Arcite) Wait well,
    Upon your mistress. - Emily, I hope
    He shall not go afoot.

    That were a shame, sir,
    While I have horses. (To Arcite) Take your choice, and
    You want, at any time, let me but know it.
    If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you,
    You'll find a loving mistress.

    If I do not,
    Let me find that my father ever hated -
    Disgrace and blows.

    Go, lead the way - you have won it.
    It shall be so: you shall receive all dues
    Fit for the honour you have won. 'Twere wrong else.
    (To Emilia) Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a
    That, if I were a woman, would be master.
    But you are wise.

    I hope too wise for that, sir.
    Flourish. Exeunt

2.6 Scene 6

    Enter the Jailer's Daughter

    Let all the dukes and all the devils roar -
    He is at liberty! I have ventured for him,
    And out I have brought him. To a little wood
    A mile hence I have sent him, where a cedar
    Higher than all the rest spreads like a plane,
    Fast by a brook - and there he shall keep close
    Till I provide him files and food, for yet
    His iron bracelets are not off. O Love,
    What a stout-hearted child thou art! My father
    Durst better have endured cold iron than done it.
    I love him beyond love and beyond reason
    Or wit or safety. I have made him know it -
    I care not, I am desperate. If the law
    Find me and then condemn me for't, some wenches,
    Some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge
    And tell to memory my death was noble,
    Dying almost a martyr. That way he takes,
    I purpose, is my way too. Sure, he cannot
    Be so unmanly as to leave me here.
    If he do, maids will not so easily
    Trust men again. And yet, he has not thanked me
    For what I have done - no, not so much as kissed me -
    And that, methinks, is not so well. Nor scarcely
    Could I persuade him to become a free man,
    He made such scruples of the wrong he did
    To me and to my father. Yet, I hope
    When he considers more, this love of mine
    Will take more root within him. Let him do
    What he will with me - so he use me kindly.
    For use me, so he shall, or I'll proclaim him,
    And to his face, no man. I'll presently
    Provide him necessaries and pack my clothes up,
    And where there is a patch of ground I'll venture,
    So he be with me. By him, like a shadow,
    I'll ever dwell. Within this hour the hubbub
    Will be all o'er the prison - I am then
    Kissing the man they look for. Farewell, father:
    Get many more such prisoners and such daughters,
    And shortly you may keep yourself. Now to him.

3.0 Act 3

3.1 Scene 1

    (A bush in place.) Cornetts in sundry places. Noise
    and hollering as of people a-Maying.
    Enter 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
    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, O jewel
    O'th' wood, o'th' world, hast likewise blessed a pace
    With thy sole presence in thy (
                                           ) rumination
    That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between
    And chop on some cold thought. Thrice blessЉd chance
    To drop on such a mistress, expectation
    Most guiltless on't! Tell me, O Lady Fortune,
    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
    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 think'st thyself the happier thing to be
    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

    Traitor kinsman,
    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
    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
    A very thief in love, a chaffy lord
    Not worth the name of villain. Had I a sword
    And these house-clogs away -

    Dear cousin Palamon -

    Cozener Arcite, give me language such
    As thou hast showed me feat.

    Not finding in
    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
    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
    To clear his own way with the mind and sword
    Of a true gentleman.

    That thou durst, 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
    You would not hear me doubted, but your silence
    Should break out, though i'th' sanctuary.

    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
    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.

    Kinsman, you might as well
    Speak this and act it in your glass as to
    His ear which now disdains you.

    Come up to me,
    Quit me of these 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
    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 -
    That thou art brave and noble.

    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
    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.

    O, you heavens, dares any
    So noble bear a guilty business! None
    But only Arcite, therefore none but Arcite
    In this kind is so bold.

    Sweet Palamon.

    I do embrace you and your offer - for
    Your offer do't I only, sir; your person,
    Without hypocrisy, I may not wish
    Wind horns within
    More than my sword's edge on't.

    You hear the horns -
    Enter your muset 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.

    Pray hold your promise,
    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.

    Plainly spoken,
    Yet - pardon me - hard language: when I spur
    Wind horns within
    My horse I chide him not. Content and anger
    In me have but one face. Hark, sir, they call
    The scattered to the banquet. You must guess
    I have an office there.

    Sir, your attendance
    Cannot please heaven, and I know your office
    Unjustly is achieved.

    '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
    And talk of it no more.

    But this one word:
    You are going now to gaze upon my mistress -
    For note you, mine she is -

    Nay then -

    Nay, pray you -
    You talk of feeding me to breed me strength -
    You are going now to look upon a sun
    That strengthens what it looks on. There you have
    A vantage o'er me, but enjoy it till
    I may enforce my remedy. Farewell.
    Exeunt severally, (Palamon as into the bush)

3.2 Scene 2

    Enter the Jailer's Daughter, with a file

    He has mistook the brake I meant, is gone
    After his fancy. 'Tis now wellnigh morning.
    No matter - would it were perpetual night,
    And darkness lord o'th' world. Hark, 'tis a wolf!
    In me hath grief slain fear, and, but for one thing,
    I care for nothing - and that's Palamon.
    I reck not if the wolves would jaw me, so
    He had this file. What if I hollered for him?
    I cannot holler. If I whooped, what then?
    If he not answered, I should call a wolf
    And do him but that service. I have heard
    Strange howls this livelong night - why may't not be
    They have made prey of him? He has no weapons;
    He cannot run; the jangling of his gyves
    Might call fell things to listen, who have in them
    A sense to know a man unarmed, and can
    Smell where resistance is. I'll set it down
    He's torn to pieces: they howled many together
    And then they fed on him. So much for that.
    Be bold to ring the bell. How stand I then?
    All's chared when he is gone. No, no, I lie:
    My father's to be hanged for his escape,
    Myself to beg, if I prized life so much
    As to deny my act - but that I would not,
    Should I try death by dozens. I am moped -
    Food took I none these two days,
    Sipped some water. I have not closed mine eyes
    Save when my lids scoured off their brine. Alas,
    Dissolve, my life; let not my sense unsettle,
    Lest I should drown or stab or hang myself.
    O state of nature, fail together in me,
    Since thy best props are warped. So which way now?
    The best way is the next way to a grave,
    Each errant step beside is torment. Lo,
    The moon is down, the crickets chirp, the screech-owl
    Calls in the dawn. All offices are done
    Save what I fail in: but the point is this,
    An end, and that is all.

3.3 Scene 3

    Enter Arcite with a bundle containing meat, wine, and files

    I should be near the place. Ho, cousin Palamon!
    Enter Palamon (as from the bush)


    The same. I have brought you food and files.
    Come forth and fear not, here's no Theseus.

    Nor none so honest, Arcite.

    That's no matter -
    We'll argue that hereafter. Come, take courage -
    You shall not die thus beastly. Here, sir, drink;
    I know you are faint. Then I'll talk further with you.

    Arcite, thou mightst now poison me.

    I might -
    But I must fear you first. Sit down and, good now,
    No more of these vain parleys. Let us not,
    Having our ancient reputation with us,
    Make talk for fools and cowards. To your health, sir.

    (Arcite drinks)

    Pray sit down, then, and let me entreat you,
    By all the honesty and honour in you,
    No mention of this woman - 'twill disturb us.
    We shall have time enough.

    Well, sir, I'll pledge you.
    Palamon drinks

    Drink a good hearty draught; it breeds good blood, man.
    Do not you feel it thaw you?

    Stay, I'll tell you
    After a draught or two more.
    Palamon drinks

    Spare it not -
    The Duke has more, coz. Eat now.

    Palamon eats

    I am glad
    You have so good a stomach.

    I am gladder
    I have so good meat to't.

    Is't not mad, lodging
    Here in the wild woods, cousin?

    Yes, for them
    That have wild consciences.

    How tastes your victuals?
    Your hunger needs no sauce, I see.

    Not much.
    But if it did, yours is too tart, sweet cousin.
    What is this?


    'Tis a lusty meat -
    Give me more wine. Here, Arcite, to the wenches
    We have known in our days. (Drinking) The lord
    steward's daughter.
    Do you remember her?

    After you, coz.

    She loved a black-haired man.

    She did so; well, sir.

    And I have heard some call him Arcite, and -

    Out with't, faith.

    She met him in an arbour -
    What did she there, coz? Play o'th' virginals?

    Something she did, sir -

    Made her groan a month for't -
    Or two, or three, or ten.

    The marshal's sister
    Had her share too, as I remember, cousin,
    Else there be tales abroad. You'll pledge her?

    (They drink)

    A pretty brown wench 'tis. There was a time
    When young men went a-hunting, and a wood,
    And a broad beech, and thereby hangs a tale -

    For Emily, upon my life! Fool,
    Away with this strained mirth. I say again,
    That sigh was breathed for Emily. Base cousin,
    Dar'st thou break first?

    You are wide.

    By heaven and earth,
    There's nothing in thee honest.

    Then I'll leave you -
    You are a beast now.

    As thou mak'st me, traitor.

    (pointing to the bundle)
    There's all things needful: files and shirts and perfumes -
    I'll come again some two hours hence and bring
    That that shall quiet all.

    A sword and armour.

    Fear me not. You are now too foul. Farewell.
    Get off your trinkets: you shall want naught.

    Sirrah -

    I'll hear no more.

    If he keep touch, he dies for't.
    Exit (as into the bush)

3.4 Scene 4

    Enter the Jailer's Daughter

    I am very cold, and all the stars are out too,
    The little stars and all, that look like aglets -
    The sun has seen my folly. Palamon!
    Alas, no, he's in heaven. Where am I now?
    Yonder's the sea and there's a ship - how't tumbles!
    And there's a rock lies watching under water -
    Now, now, it beats upon it - now, now, now,
    There's a leak sprung, a sound one - how they cry!
    Open her before the wind - you'll lose all else.
    Up with a course or two and tack about, boys.
    Good night, good night, you're gone. I am very hungry.
    Would I could find a fine frog - he would tell me
    News from all parts o'th' world, then would I make
    A carrack of a cockle-shell, and sail
    By east and north-east to the King of Pygmies,
    For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father,
    Twenty to one, is trussed up in a trice
    Tomorrow morning. I'll say never a word.
    (She sings)
    For I'll cut my green coat, a foot above my knee,
    And I'll clip my yellow locks, an inch below mine eye,
    Hey nonny, nonny, nonny,
    He s' buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,
    And I'll go seek him, through the world that is so wide,
    Hey nonny, nonny, nonny.
    O for a prick now, like a nightingale,
    To put my breast against. I shall sleep like a top else.

3.5 Scene 5

    Enter Gerald (a schoolmaster), five Countrymen, one
    of whom is dressed as a Babion, five Wenches, and
    Timothy, a taborer. All are attired as morris dancers

    Fie, fie,
    What tediosity and disinsanity
    Is here among ye! Have my rudiments
    Been laboured so long with ye, milked unto ye,
    And, by a figure, even the very plum-broth
    And marrow of my understanding laid upon ye?
    And do you still cry 'where?' and 'how?' and 'wherefore?'
    You most coarse frieze capacities, ye jean judgements,
    Have I said, 'thus let be', and 'there let be',
    And 'then let be', and no man understand me?
    Proh deum, medius fidius - ye are all dunces.
    Forwhy, here stand I. Here the Duke comes. There are you,
    Close in the thicket. The Duke appears. I meet him,
    And unto him I utter learnЉd things
    And many figures. He hears, and nods, and hums,
    And then cries, 'Rare!', and I go forward. At length
    I fling my cap up - mark there - then do you,
    As once did Meleager and the boar,
    Break comely out before him, like true lovers,
    Cast yourselves in a body decently,
    And sweetly, by a figure, trace and turn, boys.

    And sweetly we will do it, master Gerald.

    Draw up the company. Where's the taborer?

    Why, Timothy!

    Here, my mad boys, have at ye!

    But I say, where's these women?

    Here's Friz and Madeline.

    And little Luce with the white legs, and bouncing Barbara.

    And freckled Nell, that never failed her master.

    Where be your ribbons, maids? Swim with your bodies
    And carry it sweetly and deliverly,
    And now and then a favour and a frisk.

    Let us alone, sir.

    Where's the rest o'th' music?

    Dispersed as you commanded.

    Couple, then,
    And see what's wanting. Where's the babion?
    (To the Babion) My friend, carry your tail without
    Or scandal to the ladies; and be sure
    You tumble with audacity and manhood,
    And when you bark, do it with judgement.

    Yes, sir.

    Quousque tandem? Here is a woman wanting!

    We may go whistle - all the fat's i'th' fire.

    We have,
    As learnЉd authors utter, washed a tile;
    We have been fatuus, and laboured vainly.

    This is that scornful piece, that scurvy hilding
    That gave her promise faithfully she would be here -
    Cicely, the seamstress' daughter.
    The next gloves that I give her shall be dogskin.
    Nay, an she fail me once - you can tell, Arcas,
    She swore by wine and bread she would not break.

    An eel and woman,
    A learnЉd poet says, unless by th' tail
    And with thy teeth thou hold, will either fail -
    In manners this was false position.

    A fire-ill take her! Does she flinch now?

    Shall we determine, sir?

    Our business is become a nullity,
    Yea, and a woeful and a piteous nullity.

    Now, when the credit of our town lay on it,
    Now to be frampold, now to piss o'th' nettle!
    Go thy ways - I'll remember thee, I'll fit thee!
    Enter the Jailer's Daughter

           The George Alow came from the south,
           From the coast of Barbary-a;
           And there he met with brave gallants of war,
           By one, by two, by three-a.
           'Well hailed, well hailed, you jolly gallants,
           And whither now are you bound-a?
           O let me have your company
           Till I come to the sound-a.'
    There was three fools fell out about an owlet -
           The one he said it was an owl,
           The other he said nay,
           The third he said it was a hawk,
           And her bells were cut away.

    There's a dainty madwoman, master,
    Comes i'th' nick, as mad as a March hare.
    If we can get her dance, we are made again.
    I warrant her, she'll do the rarest gambols.

    A madwoman? We are made, boys.

    (to the Jailer's Daughter)
    And are you mad, good woman?

    I would be sorry else.
    Give me your hand.


    I can tell your fortune.
    (She examines his hand)
    You are a fool. Tell ten - I have posed him. Buzz!
    Friend, you must eat no white bread - if you do,
    Your teeth will bleed extremely. Shall we dance, ho?
    I know you - you're a tinker. Sirrah tinker,
    Stop no more holes but what you should.

    Dii boni-
    A tinker, damsel?

    Or a conjurer -
    Raise me a devil now and let him play
    Qui passa o'th' bells and bones.

    Go, take her,
    And fluently persuade her to a peace.
    Et opus exegi, quod nec Iovis ira, nec ignis -
    Strike up, and lead her in.

    Come, lass, let's trip it.

    I'll lead.

    Do, do.

    Persuasively and cunningly -
    Wind horns within
    away, boys,
    I hear the horns. Give me some meditation,
    And mark your cue.
    Exeunt all but Gerald the Schoolmaster
    Pallas inspire me.
    Enter Theseus, Pirithous, Hippolyta, Emilia, Arcite,
    and train

    This way the stag took.

    Stay and edify.

    What have we here?

    Some country sport, upon my life, sir.

    (to the Schoolmaster)
    Well, sir, go forward - we will edify.
    Ladies, sit down - we'll stay it.
    They sit: (Theseus) in a chair, the others on stools

    Thou doughty Duke, all hail! All hail, sweet ladies.

    This is a cold beginning.

    If you but favour, our country pastime made is.
    We are a few of those collected here,
    That ruder tongues distinguish 'villager';
    And to say verity, and not to fable,
    We are a merry rout, or else a rabble,
    Or company, or, by a figure, chorus,
    That fore thy dignity will dance a morris.
    And I, that am the rectifier of all,
    By title pedagogus, that let fall
    The birch upon the breeches of the small ones,
    And humble with a ferula the tall ones,
    Do here present this machine, or this frame;
    And dainty Duke, whose doughty dismal fame
    From Dis to Daedalus, from post to pillar,
    Is blown abroad, help me, thy poor well-willer,
    And with thy twinkling eyes, look right and straight
    Upon this mighty 'Moor' - of mickle weight -
    'Ice' now comes in, which, being glued together,
    Makes 'morris', and the cause that we came hither.
    The body of our sport, of no small study,
    I first appear, though rude, and raw, and muddy,
    To speak, before thy noble grace, this tenor
    At whose great feet I offer up my penner.
    The next, the Lord of May and Lady bright;
    The Chambermaid and Servingman, by night
    That seek out silent hanging; then mine Host
    And his fat Spouse, that welcomes, to their cost,
    The gallЉd traveller, and with a beck'ning
    Informs the tapster to inflame the reck'ning;
    Then the beest-eating Clown; and next, the Fool;
    The babion with long tail and eke long tool,
    Cum multis aliis that make a dance -
    Say 'ay', and all shall presently advance.

    Ay, ay, by any means, dear dominie.


    (knocks for the dance)
    Intrate filii, come forth and foot it.
    (He flings up his cap.) Music.
    (The Schoolmaster ushers in
         May Lord,         May Lady.
         Servingman,       Chambermaid.
         A Country Clown,
          or Shepherd,     Country Wench.
         An Host,          Hostess.
         A He-babion,      She-babion.
         A He-fool,        The Jailer's Daughter as
    All these persons apparelled to the life, the men
    issuing out of one door and the wenches from the
    other. They dance a morris)
           Ladies, if we have been merry,
           And have pleased ye with a derry,
           And a derry, and a down,
           Say the schoolmaster's no clown.
           Duke, if we have pleased thee too,
           And have done as good boys should do,
           Give us but a tree or twain
           For a maypole, and again,
           Ere another year run out,
           We'll make thee laugh, and all this rout.

    Take twenty, dominie. (To Hippolyta) How does my

    Never so pleased, sir.

    'Twas an excellent dance,
    And for a preface, I never heard a better.

    Schoolmaster, I thank you. One see 'em all rewarded.

    And here's something to paint your pole withal.
    He gives them money

    Now to our sports again.

       May the stag thou hunt'st stand long,
       And thy dogs be swift and strong;
       May they kill him without lets,
       And the ladies eat his dowsets.
    Exeunt Theseus and train. Wind horns within
    Come, we are all made. Dii deaeque omnes,
    Ye have danced rarely, wenches.

3.6 Scene 6

    Enter Palamon from the bush

    About this hour my cousin gave his faith
    To visit me again, and with him bring
    Two swords and two good armours; if he fail,
    He's neither man nor soldier. When he left me,
    I did not think a week could have restored
    My lost strength to me, I was grown so low
    And crest-fall'n with my wants. I thank thee, Arcite,
    Thou art yet a fair foe, and I feel myself,
    With this refreshing, able once again
    To out-dure danger. To delay it longer
    Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing,
    That I lay fatting, like a swine, to fight,
    And not a soldier. Therefore this blest morning
    Shall be the last; and that sword he refuses,
    If it but hold, I kill him with; 'tis justice.
    So, love and fortune for me!
    Enter Arcite with two armours and two swords
    O, good morrow.

    Good morrow, noble kinsman.

    I have put you
    To too much pains, sir.

    That too much, fair cousin,
    Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.

    Would you were so in all, sir - I could wish ye
    As kind a kinsman, as you force me find
    A beneficial foe, that my embraces
    Might thank ye, not my blows.

    I shall think either,
    Well done, a noble recompense.

    Then I shall quit you.

    Defy me in these fair terms, and you show
    More than a mistress to me - no more anger,
    As you love anything that's honourable.
    We were not bred to talk, man. When we are armed
    And both upon our guards, then let our fury,
    Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us;
    And then to whom the birthright of this beauty
    Truly pertains - without upbraidings, scorns,
    Despisings of our persons, and such poutings
    Fitter for girls and schoolboys - will be seen,
    And quickly, yours or mine. Will't please you arm, sir?
    Or, if you feel yourself not fitting yet,
    And furnished with your old strength, I'll stay, cousin,
    And every day discourse you into health,
    As I am spared. Your person I am friends with,
    And I could wish I had not said I loved her,
    Though I had died; but loving such a lady,
    And justifying my love, I must not fly from't.

    Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy
    That no man but thy cousin's fit to kill thee.
    I am well and lusty - choose your arms.

    Choose you, sir.

    Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost thou do it
    To make me spare thee?

    If you think so, cousin,
    You are deceived, for as I am a soldier,
    I will not spare you.

    That's well said.

    You'll find it.

    Then as I am an honest man, and love
    With all the justice of affection,
    I'll pay thee soundly.
    He chooses one armour
    This I'll take.

    (indicating the remaining armour)
    That's mine, then.
    I'll arm you first.

    Arcite arms Palamon
    Pray thee tell me, cousin,
    Where gott'st thou this good armour?

    'Tis the Duke's,
    And to say true, I stole it. Do I pinch you?


    Is't not too heavy?

    I have worn a lighter -
    But I shall make it serve.

    I'll buckle't close.

    By any means.

    You care not for a grand guard?

    No, no, we'll use no horses. I perceive
    You would fain be at that fight.

    I am indifferent.

    Faith, so am I. Good cousin, thrust the buckle
    Through far enough.

    I warrant you.

    My casque now.

    Will you fight bare-armed?

    We shall be the nimbler.

    But use your gauntlets, though - those are o'th' least.
    Prithee take mine, good cousin.

    Thank you, Arcite.
    How do I look? Am I fall'n much away?

    Faith, very little - love has used you kindly.

    I'll warrant thee, I'll strike home.

    Do, and spare not -
    I'll give you cause, sweet cousin.

    Now to you, sir.
    Palamon arms Arcite
    Methinks this armour's very like that, Arcite,
    Thou wor'st that day the three kings fell, but lighter.

    That was a very good one, and that day,
    I well remember, you outdid me, cousin.
    I never saw such valour. When you charged
    Upon the left wing of the enemy,
    I spurred hard to come up, and under me
    I had a right good horse.

    You had indeed -
    A bright bay, I remember.

    Yes. But all
    Was vainly laboured in me - you outwent me,
    Nor could my wishes reach you. Yet a little
    I did by imitation.

    More by virtue -
    You are modest, cousin.

    When I saw you charge first,
    Methought I heard a dreadful clap of thunder
    Break from the troop.

    But still before that flew
    The lightning of your valour. Stay a little,
    Is not this piece too strait?

    No, no, 'tis well.

    I would have nothing hurt thee but my sword -
    A bruise would be dishonour.

    Now I am perfect.

    Stand off, then.

    Take my sword; I hold it better.

    I thank ye. No, keep it - your life lies on it.
    Here's one - if it but hold, I ask no more
    For all my hopes. My cause and honour guard me.

    And me, my love.
    They bow several ways, then advance and stand
    Is there aught else to say?

    This only, and no more. Thou art mine aunt's son,
    And that blood we desire to shed is mutual:
    In me, thine, and in thee, mine. My sword
    Is in my hand, and if thou kill'st me,
    The gods and I forgive thee. If there be
    A place prepared for those that sleep in honour,
    I wish his weary soul that falls may win it.
    Fight bravely, cousin. Give me thy noble hand.

    Here, Palamon. This hand shall never more
    Come near thee with such friendship.

    I commend thee.

    If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward -
    For none but such dare die in these just trials.
    Once more farewell, my cousin.

    Farewell, Arcite.
    Fight. Horns within; they stand

    Lo, cousin, lo, our folly has undone us.


    This is the Duke a-hunting, as I told you.
    If we be found, we are wretched. O, retire,
    For honour's sake, and safely, presently,
    Into your bush again. Sir, we shall find
    Too many hours to die. In, gentle cousin -
    If you be seen, you perish instantly
    For breaking prison, and I, if you reveal me,
    For my contempt. Then all the world will scorn us,
    And say we had a noble difference,
    But base disposers of it.

    No, no, cousin,
    I will no more be hidden, nor put off
    This great adventure to a second trial.
    I know your cunning and I know your cause -
    He that faints now, shame take him! Put thyself
    Upon thy present guard -

    You are not mad?

    Or I will make th' advantage of this hour
    Mine own, and what to come shall threaten me
    I fear less than my fortune. Know, weak cousin,
    I love Emilia, and in that I'll bury
    Thee and all crosses else.

    Then come what can come,
    Thou shalt know, Palamon, I dare as well
    Die as discourse or sleep. Only this fears me,
    The law will have the honour of our ends.
    Have at thy life!

    Look to thine own well, Arcite!
    They fight again.
    Horns. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous,
    and train. (Theseus) separates Palamon and Arcite

    What ignorant and mad malicious traitors
    Are you, that 'gainst the tenor of my laws
    Are making battle, thus like knights appointed,
    Without my leave and officers of arms?
    By Castor, both shall die.

    Hold thy word, Theseus.
    We are certainly both traitors, both despisers
    Of thee and of thy goodness. I am Palamon,
    That cannot love thee, he that broke thy prison -
    Think well what that deserves. And this is Arcite;
    A bolder traitor never trod thy ground,
    A falser ne'er seemed friend. This is the man
    Was begged and banished; this is he contemns thee,
    And what thou dar'st do; and in this disguise,
    Against thine own edict, follows thy sister,
    That fortunate bright star, the fair Emilia,
    Whose servant - if there be a right in seeing
    And first bequeathing of the soul to - justly
    I am; and, which is more, dares think her his.
    This treachery, like a most trusty lover,
    I called him now to answer. If thou be'st
    As thou art spoken, great and virtuous,
    The true decider of all injuries,
    Say, 'Fight again', and thou shalt see me, Theseus,
    Do such a justice thou thyself wilt envy.
    Then take my life - I'll woo thee to't.

    O heaven,
    What more than man is this!

    I have sworn.

    We seek not
    Thy breath of mercy, Theseus. 'Tis to me
    A thing as soon to die as thee to say it,
    And no more moved. Where this man calls me traitor
    Let me say thus much - if in love be treason,
    In service of so excellent a beauty,
    As I love most, and in that faith will perish,
    As I have brought my life here to confirm it,
    As I have served her truest, worthiest,
    As I dare kill this cousin that denies it,
    So let me be most traitor and ye please me.
    For scorning thy edict, Duke, ask that lady
    Why she is fair, and why her eyes command me
    Stay here to love her, and if she say, 'Traitor',
    I am a villain fit to lie unburied.

    Thou shalt have pity of us both, O Theseus,
    If unto neither thou show mercy. Stop,
    As thou art just, thy noble ear against us;
    As thou art valiant, for thy cousin's soul,
    Whose twelve strong labours crown his memory,
    Let's die together, at one instant, Duke.
    Only a little let him fall before me,
    That I may tell my soul he shall not have her.

    I grant your wish; for to say true, your cousin
    Has ten times more offended, for I gave him
    More mercy than you found, sir, your offences
    Being no more than his. None here speak for 'em,
    For ere the sun set both shall sleep for ever.

    (to Emilia)
    Alas, the pity! Now or never, sister,
    Speak, not to be denied. That face of yours
    Will bear the curses else of after ages
    For these lost cousins.

    In my face, dear sister,
    I find no anger to 'em, nor no ruin.
    The misadventure of their own eyes kill 'em.
    Yet that I will be woman and have pity,
    (She kneels)
    My knees shall grow to th' ground, but I'll get mercy.
    Help me, dear sister - in a deed so virtuous
    The powers of all women will be with us.
    Hippolyta kneels
    Most royal brother -

    Sir, by our tie of marriage -

    By your own spotless honour -

    By that faith,
    That fair hand, and that honest heart you gave me -

    By that you would have pity in another,
    By your own virtues infinite -

    By valour,
    By all the chaste nights I have ever pleased you -

    These are strange conjurings.

    Nay, then, I'll in too.
    (He kneels)
    By all our friendship, sir, by all our dangers,
    By all you love most: wars, and this sweet lady -

    By that you would have trembled to deny
    A blushing maid -

    By your own eyes, by strength -
    In which you swore I went beyond all women,
    Almost all men - and yet I yielded, Theseus -

    To crown all this, by your most noble soul,
    Which cannot want due mercy, I beg first -

    Next hear my prayers -

    Last let me entreat, sir -

    For mercy.


    Mercy on these princes.

    Ye make my faith reel. Say I felt
    Compassion to 'em both, how would you place it?
    (They rise)

    Upon their lives - but with their banishments.

    You are a right woman, sister: you have pity,
    But want the understanding where to use it.
    If you desire their lives, invent a way
    Safer than banishment. Can these two live,
    And have the agony of love about 'em,
    And not kill one another? Every day
    They'd fight about you, hourly bring your honour
    In public question with their swords. Be wise, then,
    And here forget 'em. It concerns your credit
    And my oath equally. I have said - they die.
    Better they fall by th' law than one another.
    Bow not my honour.

    O my noble brother,
    That oath was rashly made, and in your anger.
    Your reason will not hold it. If such vows
    Stand for express will, all the world must perish.
    Beside, I have another oath 'gainst yours,
    Of more authority, I am sure more love -
    Not made in passion, neither, but good heed.

    What is it, sister?

    (to Emilia)
    Urge it home, brave lady.

    That you would ne'er deny me anything
    Fit for my modest suit and your free granting.
    I tie you to your word now; if ye fail in't,
    Think how you maim your honour -
    For now I am set a-begging, sir. I am deaf
    To all but your compassion - how their lives
    Might breed the ruin of my name, opinion.
    Shall anything that loves me perish for me?
    That were a cruel wisdom: do men prune
    The straight young boughs that blush with thousand blossoms
    Because they may be rotten? O, Duke Theseus,
    The goodly mothers that have groaned for these,
    And all the longing maids that ever loved,
    If your vow stand, shall curse me and my beauty,
    And in their funeral songs for these two cousins
    Despise my cruelty and cry woe worth me,
    Till I am nothing but the scorn of women.
    For heaven's sake, save their lives and banish 'em.

    On what conditions?

    Swear 'em never more
    To make me their contention, or to know me,
    To tread upon thy dukedom; and to be,
    Wherever they shall travel, ever strangers
    To one another.

    I'll be cut a-pieces
    Before I take this oath - forget I love her?
    O all ye gods, despise me, then. Thy banishment
    I not mislike, so we may fairly carry
    Our swords and cause along - else, never trifle,
    But take our lives, Duke. I must love, and will;
    And for that love must and dare kill this cousin
    On any piece the earth has.

    Will you, Arcite,
    Take these conditions?

    He's a villain then.

    These are men!

    No, never, Duke. 'Tis worse to me than begging,
    To take my life so basely. Though I think
    I never shall enjoy her, yet I'll preserve
    The honour of affection and die for her,
    Make death a devil.

    What may be done? For now I feel compassion.

    Let it not fall again, sir.

    Say, Emilia,
    If one of them were dead - as one must - are you
    Content to take the other to your husband?
    They cannot both enjoy you. They are princes
    As goodly as your own eyes, and as noble
    As ever fame yet spoke of. Look upon 'em,
    And if you can love, end this difference.
    I give consent. (To Palamon and Arcite) Are you
    content too, princes?

    With all our souls.

    He that she refuses
    Must die, then.

    Any death thou canst invent, Duke.

    If I fall from that mouth, I fall with favour,
    And lovers yet unborn shall bless my ashes.

    If she refuse me, yet my grave will wed me,
    And soldiers sing my epitaph.

    (to Emilia)
    Make choice, then.

    I cannot, sir. They are both too excellent.
    For me, a hair shall never fall of these men.

    (to Theseus)
    What will become of 'em?

    Thus I ordain it,
    And by mine honour once again it stands,
    Or both shall die. (To Palamon and Arcite) You shall
    both to your country,
    And each within this month, accompanied
    With three fair knights, appear again in this place,
    In which I'll plant a pyramid; and whether,
    Before us that are here, can force his cousin,
    By fair and knightly strength, to touch the pillar,
    He shall enjoy her; the other lose his head,
    And all his friends; nor shall he grudge to fall,
    Nor think he dies with interest in this lady.
    Will this content ye?

    Yes. Here, cousin Arcite,
    I am friends again till that hour.

    I embrace ye.

    (to Emilia)
    Are you content, sister?

    Yes, I must, sir,
    Else both miscarry.

    (to Palamon and Arcite)
    Come, shake hands again, then,
    And take heed, as you are gentlemen, this quarrel
    Sleep till the hour prefixed, and hold your course.

    We dare not fail thee, Theseus.

    Come, I'll give ye
    Now usage like to princes and to friends.
    When ye return, who wins I'll settle here,
    Who loses, yet I'll weep upon his bier.
    Exeunt. (In the act-time the bush is removed)

4.0 Act 4

4.1 Scene 1

    Enter the Jailer and his Friend

    Hear you no more? Was nothing said of me
    Concerning the escape of Palamon?
    Good sir, remember.

    Nothing that I heard,
    For I came home before the business
    Was fully ended. Yet I might perceive,
    Ere I departed, a great likelihood
    Of both their pardons: for Hippolyta
    And fair-eyed Emily upon their knees
    Begged with such handsome pity that the Duke,
    Methought, stood staggering whether he should follow
    His rash oath or the sweet compassion
    Of those two ladies; and to second them
    That truly noble prince, Pirithous -
    Half his own heart - set in too, that I hope
    All shall be well. Neither heard I one question
    Of your name or his scape.
    Enter the Second Friend

    Pray heaven it hold so.

    Be of good comfort, man. I bring you news,
    Good news.

    They are welcome.

    Palamon has cleared you,
    And got your pardon, and discovered how
    And by whose means he scaped - which was your daughter's,
    Whose pardon is procured too; and the prisoner,
    Not to be held ungrateful to her goodness,
    Has given a sum of money to her marriage -
    A large one, I'll assure you.

    Ye are a good man,
    And ever bring good news.

    How was it ended?

    Why, as it should be: they that ne'er begged,
    But they prevailed, had their suits fairly granted -
    The prisoners have their lives.

    I knew 'twould be so.

    But there be new conditions which you'll hear of
    At better time.

    I hope they are good.

    They are honourable -
    How good they'll prove I know not.
    Enter the Wooer

    'Twill be known.

    Alas, sir, where's your daughter?

    Why do you ask?

    O, sir, when did you see her?

    How he looks!

    This morning.

    Was she well? Was she in health?
    Sir, when did she sleep?

    These are strange questions.

    I do not think she was very well: for now
    You make me mind her, but this very day
    I asked her questions and she answered me
    So far from what she was, so childishly,
    So sillily, as if she were a fool,
    An innocent - and I was very angry.
    But what of her, sir?

    Nothing, but my pity -
    But you must know it, and as good by me
    As by another that less loves her -

    Well, sir?

    Not right?

    No, sir, not well.

    Not well?

    'Tis too true - she is mad.

    It cannot be.

    Believe, you'll find it so.

    I half suspected
    What you told me - the gods comfort her!
    Either this was her love to Palamon,
    Or fear of my miscarrying on his scape,
    Or both.

    'Tis likely.

    But why all this haste, sir?

    I'll tell you quickly. As I late was angling
    In the great lake that lies behind the palace,
    From the far shore, thick set with reeds and sedges,
    As patiently I was attending sport,
    I heard a voice - a shrill one - and attentive
    I gave my ear, when I might well perceive
    'Twas one that sung, and by the smallness of it
    A boy or woman. I then left my angle
    To his own skill, came near, but yet perceived not
    Who made the sound, the rushes and the reeds
    Had so encompassed it. I laid me down
    And listened to the words she sung, for then,
    Through a small glade cut by the fishermen,
    I saw it was your daughter.

    Pray go on, sir.

    She sung much, but no sense; only I heard her
    Repeat this often - 'Palamon is gone,
    Is gone to th' wood to gather mulberries;
    I'll find him out tomorrow.'

    Pretty soul!

    'His shackles will betray him - he'll be taken,
    And what shall I do then? I'll bring a bevy,
    A hundred black-eyed maids that love as I do,
    With chaplets on their heads of daffodillies,
    With cherry lips and cheeks of damask roses,
    And all we'll dance an antic fore the Duke
    And beg his pardon.' Then she talked of you, sir -
    That you must lose your head tomorrow morning,
    And she must gather flowers to bury you,
    And see the house made handsome. Then she sung
    Nothing but 'willow, willow, willow', and between
    Ever was 'Palamon, fair Palamon',
    And 'Palamon was a tall young man'. The place
    Was knee-deep where she sat; her careless tresses
    A wreath of bull-rush rounded; about her stuck
    Thousand freshwater flowers of several colours -
    That she appeared, methought, like the fair nymph
    That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris
    Newly dropped down from heaven. Rings she made
    Of rushes that grew by, and to 'em spoke
    The prettiest posies - 'Thus our true love's tied',
    'This you may lose, not me', and many a one.
    And then she wept, and sung again, and sighed -
    And with the same breath smiled and kissed her hand.

    Alas, what pity it is!

    I made in to her:
    She saw me and straight sought the flood - I saved her,
    And set her safe to land, when presently
    She slipped away and to the city made,
    With such a cry and swiftness that, believe me,
    She left me far behind her. Three or four
    I saw from far off cross her - one of 'em
    I knew to be your brother, where she stayed
    And fell, scarce to be got away. I left them with her,
    Enter the Jailer's Brother, the Jailer's Daughter, and others
    And hither came to tell you - here they are.

    'May you never more enjoy the light . . .' -
    Is not this a fine song?

    O, a very fine one.

    I can sing twenty more.

    I think you can.

    Yes, truly can I - I can sing 'The Broom'
    And 'Bonny Robin' - are not you a tailor?


    Where's my wedding gown?

    I'll bring it tomorrow.

    Do, very rarely - I must be abroad else,
    To call the maids and pay the minstrels,
    For I must lose my maidenhead by cocklight,
    'Twill never thrive else. (Sings)'O fair, O sweet . . .'

    (to the Jailer)
    You must e'en take it patiently.

    'Tis true.

    Good ev'n, good men. Pray, did you ever hear
    Of one young Palamon?

    Yes, wench, we know him.

    Is't not a fine young gentleman?

    'Tis, love.

    By no mean cross her, she is then distempered
    Far worse than now she shows.

    (to the Jailer's Daughter)
    Yes, he's a fine man.

    O, is he so? You have a sister.


    But she shall never have him, tell her so,
    For a trick that I know. You'd best look to her,
    For if she see him once, she's gone - she's done
    And undone in an hour. All the young maids
    Of our town are in love with him, but I laugh at 'em
    And let 'em all alone. Is 't not a wise course?


    There is at least two hundred now with child by him,
    There must be four; yet I keep close for all this,
    Close as a cockle; and all these must be boys -
    He has the trick on't - and at ten years old
    They must be all gelt for musicians
    And sing the wars of Theseus.

    This is strange.

    As ever you heard, but say nothing.


    They come from all parts of the dukedom to him.
    I'll warrant ye, he had not so few last night
    As twenty to dispatch. He'll tickle't up
    In two hours, if his hand be in.

    She's lost
    Past all cure.

    Heaven forbid, man!

    (to the Jailer)
    Come hither - you are a wise man.

    Does she know him?

    No - would she did.

    You are master of a ship?


    Where's your compass?


    Set it to th' north.
    And now direct your course to th' wood where Palamon
    Lies longing for me. For the tackling,
    Let me alone. Come, weigh, my hearts, cheerly all.
    Uff, uff, uff! 'Tis up. The wind's fair. Top the bowline.
    Out with the mainsail. Where's your whistle, master?

    Let's get her in.

    Up to the top, boy!

    Where's the pilot?


    What kenn'st thou?

    A fair wood.

    Bear for it, master.
    Tack about!
    'When Cynthia with her borrowed light . . .' Exeunt

4.2 Scene 2

    (Enter Emilia, with two pictures)

    Yet I may bind those wounds up that must open
    And bleed to death for my sake else - I'll choose,
    And end their strife. Two such young handsome men
    Shall never fall for me; their weeping mothers
    Following the dead cold ashes of their sons,
    Shall never curse my cruelty. Good heaven,
    What a sweet face has Arcite! If wise nature,
    With all her best endowments, all those beauties
    She sows into the births of noble bodies,
    Were here a mortal woman and had in her
    The coy denials of young maids, yet doubtless
    She would run mad for this man. What an eye,
    Of what a fiery sparkle and quick sweetness
    Has this young prince! Here love himself sits smiling!
    Just such another wanton Ganymede
    Set Jove afire once, and enforced 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!
    Arched like the great-eyed Juno's, but far sweeter,
    Smoother than Pelops' shoulder! Fame and honour,
    Methinks, 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 near 'em. Palamon
    Is but his foil; to him a mere dull shadow;
    He's swart 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 sharpness, not a smile.
    Yet these that we count errors may become him:
    Narcissus was a sad boy, but a heavenly.
    O, who can find the bent of woman's fancy?
    I am a fool, my reason is lost in me,
    I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly
    That women ought to beat me. On my knees
    I ask thy pardon, Palamon, thou art alone
    And only beautiful, and these the eyes,
    These the bright lamps of beauty, that command
    And threaten love - and what young maid dare cross 'em?
    What a bold gravity, and yet inviting,
    Has this brown manly face? O, love, this only
    From this hour is complexion. Lie there, Arcite,
    Thou art a changeling to him, a mere gypsy,
    And this the noble body. I am sotted,
    Utterly lost - my virgin's faith has fled me.
    For if my brother, but even now, had asked me
    Whether I loved, I had run mad for Arcite;
    Now if my sister, more for Palamon.
    Stand both together. Now come ask me, brother -
    Alas, I know not; ask me now, sweet sister -
    I may go look. What a mere child is fancy,
    That having two fair gauds of equal sweetness,
    Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both!
    (Enter a Gentleman)
    How now, sir?

    From the noble Duke your brother,
    Madam, I bring you news. The knights are come.

    To end the quarrel?


    Would I might end first!
    What sins have I committed, chaste Diana,
    That my unspotted youth must now be soiled
    With blood of princes, and my chastity
    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 beauty?
    Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, and attendants

    Bring 'em in
    Quickly, by any means, I long to see 'em.
    Exit one or more
    (To Emilia) Your two contending lovers are returned,
    And with them their fair knights. Now, my fair sister,
    You must love one of them.

    I had rather both,
    So neither for my sake should fall untimely.
    Enter a Messenger

    Who saw 'em?

    I a while.

    And I.

    (to the Messenger)
    From whence come you, sir?

    From the knights.

    Pray speak,
    You that have seen them, what they are.

    I will, sir,
    And truly what I think. Six braver spirits
    Than 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 looks so say him: his complexion,
    Nearer a brown than black, stern and yet noble,
    Which shows him hardy, fearless, proud of dangers.
    The circles of his eyes show fire within him,
    And, as a heated lion, so he looks.
    His hair hangs long behind him, black and shining,
    Like ravens' wings. His shoulders, broad and strong;
    Armed long and round; and on his thigh a sword
    Hung by a curious baldric, when he frowns
    To seal his will with. Better, o' my conscience,
    Was never soldier's friend.

    Thou hast well described him.

    Yet a great deal short,
    Methinks, of him that's first with Palamon.

    Pray speak him, friend.

    I guess he is a prince too,
    And, if it may be, greater - for his show
    Has all the ornament of honour in't.
    He's somewhat bigger than 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 own. In's face appears
    All the fair hopes of what he undertakes,
    And when he's angry, then a settled valour,
    Not tainted with extremes, runs through his body
    And guides his arm to brave things. Fear he cannot -
    He shows no such soft temper. His head's yellow,
    Hard-haired and curled, thick twined: like ivy tods,
    Not to undo with thunder. In his face
    The livery of the warlike maid appears,
    Pure red and white - for yet no beard has blessed him -
    And in his rolling eyes sits victory,
    As if she ever meant to court his valour.
    His nose stands high, a character of honour;
    His red lips, after fights, are fit for ladies.

    Must these men die too?

    When he speaks, his tongue
    Sounds like a trumpet. All his lineaments
    Are as a man would wish 'em - strong and clean.
    He wears a well-steeled axe, the staff of gold.
    His age, some five-and-twenty.

    There's another -
    A little man, but of a tough soul, seeming
    As great as any. Fairer promises
    In such a body yet I never looked on.

    O, he that's freckle-faced?

    The same, my lord.
    Are they not sweet ones?

    Yes, they are well.

    Being so few and well disposed, they show
    Great and fine art in nature. He's white-haired -
    Not wanton white, but such a manly colour
    Next to an auburn, tough and nimble set,
    Which shows an active soul. His arms are brawny,
    Lined with strong sinews - to the shoulder piece
    Gently they swell, like women new-conceived,
    Which speaks him prone to labour, never fainting
    Under the weight of arms; stout-hearted, still,
    But when he stirs, a tiger. He's grey-eyed,
    Which yields compassion where he conquers; sharp
    To spy advantages, and where he finds 'em,
    He's swift to make 'em his. He does no wrongs,
    Nor takes none. He's round-faced, and when he smiles
    He shows a lover; when he frowns, a soldier.
    About his head he wears the winner's oak,
    And in it stuck the favour of his lady.
    His age, some six-and-thirty. In his hand
    He bears a charging staff embossed with silver.

    Are they all thus?

    They are all the sons of honour.

    Now as I have a soul, I long to see 'em.
    (To Hippolyta) Lady, you shall see men fight now.

    I wish it,
    But not the cause, my lord. They would show
    Bravely about the titles of two kingdoms -
    'Tis pity love should be so tyrannous.
    (To Emilia) O my soft-hearted sister, what think you?
    Weep not till they weep blood. Wench, it must be.

    (to Emilia)
    You have steeled 'em with your beauty.
    (To Pirithous) Honoured friend,
    To you I give the field: pray order it
    Fitting the persons that must use it.

    Yes, sir.

    Come, I'll go visit 'em - I cannot stay,
    Their fame has fired me so. Till they appear,
    Good friend, be royal.

    There shall want no bravery.

    Poor wench, go weep - for whosoever wins
    Loses a noble cousin for thy sins.

4.3 Scene 3

    Enter the Jailer, the Wooer, and the Doctor

    Her distraction is more at some time of the moon
    than at other some, is it not?

    She is continually in a harmless distemper: sleeps
    little; altogether without appetite, save often drinking;
    dreaming of another world, and a better; and what
    broken piece of matter soe'er she's about, the name
    'Palamon' lards it, that she farces every business
    Enter the Jailer's Daughter
    withal, fits it to every question. Look where she comes -
    you shall perceive her behaviour.
    They stand apart

    I have forgot it quite - the burden on't
    was 'Down-a, down-a', and penned by no worse man
    than Giraldo, Emilia's schoolmaster. He's as fantastical,
    too, as ever he may go upon's legs - for in the next
    world will Dido see Palamon, and then will she be out
    of love with Aeneas.

    What stuff's here? Poor soul.

    E'en thus all day long.

    Now for this charm that I told you
    of - you must bring a piece of silver on the tip of your
    tongue, or no ferry: then, if it be your chance to come
    where the blessed spirits are - there's a sight now! We
    maids that have our livers perished, cracked to pieces
    with love, we shall come there and do nothing all day
    long but pick flowers with Proserpine. Then will I make
    Palamon a nosegay, then let him mark me, then -

    How prettily she's amiss! Note her a little further.

    Faith, I'll tell you: sometime we go to
    barley-break, we of the blessed. Alas, 'tis a sore life
    they have i'th' other place - such burning, frying,
    boiling, hissing, howling, chattering, cursing - O they
    have shrewd measure - take heed! If one be mad or
    hang or drown themselves, thither they go, Jupiter
    bless us, and there shall we be put in a cauldron of
    lead and usurers' grease, amongst a whole million of
    cutpurses, and there boil like a gammon of bacon that
    will never be enough.

    How her brain coins!

    Lords and courtiers that have got
    maids with child - they are in this place. They shall
    stand in fire up to the navel and in ice up to th' heart,
    and there th' offending part burns, and the deceiving
    part freezes - in truth a very grievous punishment as
    one would think for such a trifle. Believe me, one would
    marry a leprous witch to be rid on't, I'll assure you.

    How she continues this fancy! 'Tis not an
    engrafted madness, but a most thick and profound

    To hear there a proud lady and a
    proud city wife howl together! I were a beast an I'd
    call it good sport. One cries, 'O this smoke!', th' other,
    'This fire!'; one cries, 'O that ever I did it behind the
    arras!', and then howls - th' other curses a suing fellow
    and her garden-house.
    'I will be true, my stars, my fate . . .'
    Exit Daughter

    (to the Doctor)
    What think you of her, sir?

    I think she has a perturbed mind, which I cannot
    minister to.

    Alas, what then?

    Understand you she ever affected any man ere
    she beheld Palamon?

    I was once, sir, in great hope she had fixed her
    liking on this gentleman, my friend.

    I did think so too, and would account I had a
    great penn'orth on't to give half my state that both
    she and I, at this present, stood unfeignedly on the
    same terms.

    That intemperate surfeit of her eye hath distempered
    the other senses. They may return and settle
    again to execute their preordained faculties, but they
    are now in a most extravagant vagary. This you must
    do: confine her to a place where the light may rather
    seem to steal in than be permitted; take upon you,
    young sir her friend, the name of Palamon; say you
    come to eat with her and to commune of love. This
    will catch her attention, for this her mind beats upon -
    other objects that are inserted 'tween her mind and
    eye become the pranks and friskins of her madness.
    Sing to her such green songs of love as she says
    Palamon hath sung in prison; come to her stuck in as
    sweet flowers as the season is mistress of, and thereto
    make an addition of some other compounded odours
    which are grateful to the sense. All this shall become
    Palamon, for Palamon can sing, and Palamon is sweet
    and every good thing. Desire to eat with her, carve
    her, drink to her, and still among intermingle your
    petition of grace and acceptance into her favour. Learn
    what maids have been her companions and playferes,
    and let them repair to her, with Palamon in their
    mouths, and appear with tokens as if they suggested
    for him. It is a falsehood she is in, which is with
    falsehoods to be combated. This may bring her to eat,
    to sleep, and reduce what's now out of square in her
    into their former law and regiment. I have seen it
    approved, how many times I know not, but to make
    the number more I have great hope in this. I will
    between the passages of this project come in with my
    appliance. Let us put it in execution, and hasten the
    success, which doubt not will bring forth comfort.

5.0 Act 5

5.1 Scene 1

    (An altar prepared.) Flourish. Enter Theseus,
    Pirithous, Hippolyta, attendants

    Now let 'em enter and before the gods
    Tender their holy prayers. Let the temples
    Burn bright with sacred fires, and the altars
    In hallowed clouds commend their swelling incense
    To those above us. Let no due be wanting.
    Flourish of cornetts
    They have a noble work in hand, will honour
    The very powers that love 'em.
    Enter Palamon with his three Knights (at
    one door), and Arcite with his three Knights (at the
    other door)

    Sir, they enter.

    You valiant and strong-hearted enemies,
    You royal german foes that this day come
    To blow that nearness out that flames between ye,
    Lay by your anger for an hour and, dove-like,
    Before the holy altars of your helpers,
    The all-feared gods, bow down your stubborn bodies.
    Your ire is more than mortal - so your help be;
    And as the gods regard ye, fight with justice.
    I'll leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye
    I part my wishes.

    Honour crown the worthiest.
    Exit Theseus and his train

    (to Arcite)
    The glass is running now that cannot finish
    Till one of us expire. Think you but thus,
    That were there aught in me which strove to show
    Mine enemy in this business, were't one eye
    Against another, arm oppressed by arm,
    I would destroy th' offender - coz, I would,
    Though parcel of myself. Then from this gather
    How I should tender you.

    I am in labour
    To push your name, your ancient love, our kindred,
    Out of my memory, and i'th' selfsame place
    To seat something I would confound. So hoist we
    The sails that must these vessels port even where
    The heavenly limiter pleases.

    You speak well.
    Before I turn, let me embrace thee, cousin -
    This I shall never do again.

    One farewell.

    Why, let it be so - farewell, coz.

    Farewell, sir.
    Exeunt Palamon and his three Knights
    Knights, kinsmen, lovers - yea, my sacrifices,
    True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you
    Expels the seeds of fear and th' apprehension
    Which still is father of it, go with me
    Before the god of our profession. There
    Require of him the hearts of lions and
    The breath of tigers, yea, the fierceness too,
    Yea, the speed also - to go on, I mean,
    Else wish we to be snails. You know my prize
    Must be dragged out of blood - force and great feat
    Must put my garland on me, where she sticks,
    The queen of flowers. Our intercession, then,
    Must be to him that makes the camp a cistern
    Brimmed with the blood of men - give me your aid,
    And bend your spirits towards him.
    They kneel before the altar, (fall on their faces, then
    on their knees again)
    (Praying to Mars) Thou mighty one,
    That with thy power hast turned green Neptune into purple;
    Whose havoc in vast field comets prewarn,
    UnearthЉd skulls proclaim; whose breath blows down
    The teeming Ceres' foison; who dost pluck
    With hand armipotent from forth blue clouds
    The masoned turrets, that both mak'st and break'st
    The stony girths of cities; me thy pupil,
    Youngest follower of thy drum, instruct this day
    With military skill, that to thy laud
    I may advance my streamer, and by thee
    Be styled 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 armour, with a short thunder,
    as the burst of a battle, whereupon they all rise and
    bow to the altar
    O great corrector of enormous times,
    Shaker of o'er-rank states, thou grand decider
    Of dusty and old titles, that heal'st with blood
    The earth when it is sick, and cur'st the world
    O'th' plurisy of people, I do take
    Thy signs auspiciously, and in thy name,
    To my design, march boldly. (To his Knights) Let us go.

5.2 Scene 2

    Enter Palamon and his Knights with the former observance

    (to his Knights)
    Our stars must glister with new fire, or be
    Today extinct. Our argument is love,
    Which if the goddess of it grant, she gives
    Victory too. Then blend your spirits with mine,
    You whose free nobleness do make my cause
    Your personal hazard. To the goddess Venus
    Commend we our proceeding, and implore
    Her power unto our party.
    Here they kneel before the altar, (fall on their faces
    then on their knees again)
    (Praying to Venus) Hail, sovereign queen of secrets,
    who hast power
    To call the fiercest tyrant from his rage
    And weep unto a girl; that hast the might,
    Even with an eye-glance, to choke Mars's drum
    And turn th' alarum to whispers; that canst make
    A cripple flourish with his crutch, and cure him
    Before Apollo; that mayst force the king
    To be his subject's vassal, and induce
    Stale gravity to dance; the polled bachelor
    Whose youth, like wanton boys through bonfires,
    Have skipped thy flame, at seventy thou canst catch
    And make him to the scorn of his hoarse throat
    Abuse young lays of love. What godlike power
    Hast thou not power upon? To Phoebus thou
    Add'st flames hotter than his - the heavenly fires
    Did scorch his mortal son, thine him. The huntress,
    All moist and cold, some say, began to throw
    Her bow away and sigh. Take to thy grace
    Me, thy vowed soldier, who do bear thy yoke
    As 'twere a wreath of roses, yet is heavier
    Than lead itself, stings more than nettles.
    I have never been foul-mouthed against thy law;
    Ne'er revealed secret, for I knew none; would not,
    Had I kenned all that were. I never practised
    Upon man's wife, nor would the libels read
    Of liberal wits. I never at great feasts
    Sought to betray a beauty, but have blushed
    At simp'ring sirs that did. I have been harsh
    To large confessors, and have hotly asked them
    If they had mothers - I had one, a woman,
    And women 'twere they wronged. I knew a man
    Of eighty winters, this I told them, who
    A lass of fourteen brided - 'twas thy power
    To put life into dust. The agЉd cramp
    Had screwed his square foot round,
    The gout had knit his fingers into knots,
    Torturing convulsions from his globy eyes
    Had almost drawn their spheres, that what was life
    In him seemed torture. This anatomy
    Had by his young fair fere a boy, and I
    Believed it was his, for she swore it was,
    And who would not believe her? Brief - I am
    To those that prate and have done, no companion;
    To those that boast and have not, a defier;
    To those that would and cannot, a rejoicer.
    Yea, him I do not love that tells close offices
    The foulest way, nor names concealments in
    The boldest language. Such a one I am,
    And vow that lover never yet made sigh
    Truer than I. O, then, most soft sweet goddess,
    Give me the victory of this question, which
    Is true love's merit, and bless me with a sign
    Of thy great pleasure.
    Here music is heard, doves are seen to flutter. They
    fall again upon their faces, then on their knees
    O thou that from eleven to ninety reign'st
    In mortal bosoms, whose chase is this world
    And we in herds thy game, I give thee thanks
    For this fair token, which, being laid unto
    Mine innocent true heart, arms in assurance
    My body to this business. (To his Knights) Let us rise
    And bow before the goddess.
    They rise and bow
    Time comes on.

5.3 Scene 3

    Still music of recorders. Enter Emilia in white, her
    hair about her shoulders, with a wheaten wreath;
    one in white holding up her train, her hair stuck
    with flowers; one before her carrying a silver hind
    in which is conveyed incense and sweet odours,
    which being set upon the altar, her maids standing
    apart, she sets fire to it. Then they curtsy and kneel

    (praying to Diana)
    O sacred, shadowy, cold, and constant queen,
    Abandoner of revels, mute contemplative,
    Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
    As wind-fanned snow, who to thy female knights
    Allow'st no more blood than will make a blush,
    Which is their order's robe: I here, thy priest,
    Am humbled fore thine altar. O, vouchsafe
    With that thy rare green eye, which never yet
    Beheld thing maculate, look on thy virgin;
    And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear -
    Which ne'er heard scurril term, into whose port
    Ne'er entered wanton sound - to my petition,
    Seasoned with holy fear. This is my last
    Of vestal office. I am bride-habited,
    But maiden-hearted. A husband I have 'pointed,
    But do not know him. Out of two, I should
    Choose one and pray for his success, but I
    Am guiltless of election. Of mine eyes
    Were I to lose one, they are equal precious -
    I could doom neither: that which perished should
    Go to't unsentenced. Therefore, most modest queen,
    He of the two pretenders that best loves me
    And has the truest title in't, let him
    Take off my wheaten garland, or else grant
    The file and quality I hold I may
    Continue in thy band.
    Here the hind vanishes under the altar and in the
    place ascends a rose tree having one rose upon it
    (To her women) See what our general of ebbs and flows
    Out from the bowels of her holy altar,
    With sacred act, advances - but one rose!
    If well inspired, this battle shall confound
    Both these brave knights, and I a virgin flower
    Must grow alone, unplucked.
    Here is heard a sudden twang of instruments and
    the rose falls from the tree
    The flower is fall'n, the tree descends. (To Diana) O
    Thou here dischargest me - I shall be gathered.
    I think so, but I know not thine own will.
    Unclasp thy mystery. (To her women) I hope she's
    Her signs were gracious.
    They curtsy and exeunt

5.4 Scene 4

    Enter the Doctor, the Jailer, and the Wooer in the habit of Palamon

    Has this advice I told you done any good upon

    O, very much. The maids that kept her company
    have half persuaded her that I am Palamon. Within
    this half-hour she came smiling to me, and asked me
    what I would eat, and when I would kiss her.
    I told her presently, and kissed her twice.

    'Twas well done - twenty times had been far better,
    For there the cure lies mainly.

    Then she told me
    She would watch with me tonight, for well she knew
    What hour my fit would take me.

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

    She would have me sing.

    You did so?


    'Twas very ill done, then.
    You should observe her every way.

    I have no voice, sir, to confirm her that way.

    That's all one, if ye make a noise.
    If she entreat again, do anything -
    Lie with her if she ask you.

    Ho there, Doctor.

    Yes, in the way of cure.

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

    That's but a niceness -
    Ne'er cast your child away for honesty.
    Cure her first this way, then if she will be honest,
    She has the path before her.

    Thank ye, Doctor.

    Pray bring her in and let's see how she is.

    I will, and tell her her Palamon stays for her.
    But, Doctor, methinks you are i'th' wrong still.
    Exit Jailer

    Go, go. You fathers are fine fools - her honesty?
    An we should give her physic till we find that -

    Why, do you think she is not honest, sir?

    How old is she?

    She's eighteen.

    She may be -
    But that's all one. 'Tis nothing to our purpose.
    Whate'er her father says, if you perceive
    Her mood inclining that way that I spoke of,
    Videlicet, the way of flesh - you have me?

    Yes, very well, sir.

    Please her appetite,
    And do it home - it cures her, ipso facto,
    The melancholy humour that infects her.

    I am of your mind, Doctor.
    Enter the Jailer and his Daughter, (mad)

    You'll find it so - she comes: pray humour her.
    (The Doctor and the Wooer stand apart)

    (to his Daughter)
    Come, your love Palamon stays for you, child,
    And has done this long hour, to visit you.

    I thank him for his gentle patience.
    He's a kind gentleman, and I am much bound to him.
    Did you ne'er see the horse he gave me?


    How do you like him?

    He's a very fair one.

    You never saw him dance?


    I have, often.
    He dances very finely, very comely,
    And, for a jig, come cut and long-tail to him,
    He turns ye like a top.

    That's fine, indeed.

    He'll dance the morris twenty mile an hour,
    And that will founder the best hobbyhorse,
    If I have any skill, in all the parish -
    And gallops to the tune of 'Light o' love'.
    What think you of this horse?

    Having these virtues
    I think he might be brought to play at tennis.

    Alas, that's nothing.

    Can he write and read too?

    A very fair hand, and casts himself th' accounts
    Of all his hay and provender. That ostler
    Must rise betime that cozens him. You know
    The chestnut mare the Duke has?

    Very well.

    She is horribly in love with him, poor beast,
    But he is like his master - coy and scornful.

    What dowry has she?

    Some two hundred bottles
    And twenty strike of oats, but he'll ne'er have her.
    He lisps in's neighing, able to entice
    A miller's mare. He'll be the death of her.

    What stuff she utters!

    Make curtsy - here your love comes.

    (coming forward)
    Pretty soul,
    How do ye?
    She curtsies
    That's a fine maid, there's a curtsy.

    Yours to command, i'th' way of honesty -
    How far is't now to th' end o'th' world, my masters?

    Why, a day's journey, wench.

    (to Wooer)
    Will you go with me?

    What shall we do there, wench?

    Why, play at stool-ball -
    What is there else to do?

    I am content
    If we shall keep our wedding there.

    'Tis true -
    For there, I will assure you, we shall find
    Some blind priest for the purpose that will venture
    To marry us, for here they are nice, and foolish.
    Besides, my father must be hanged tomorrow,
    And that would be a blot i'th' business.
    Are not you Palamon?

    Do not you know me?

    Yes, but you care not for me. I have nothing
    But this poor petticoat and two coarse smocks.

    That's all one - I will have you.

    Will you surely?

    Yes, by this fair hand, will I.

    We'll to bed then.

    E'en when you will.
    He kisses her

    (rubbing off the kiss)
    O, sir, you would fain be nibbling.

    Why do you rub my kiss off?

    'Tis a sweet one,
    And will perfume me finely against the wedding.
    (Indicating the Doctor) Is not this your cousin Arcite?

    Yes, sweetheart,
    And I am glad my cousin Palamon
    Has made so fair a choice.

    Do you think he'll have me?

    Yes, without doubt.

    (to the Jailer)
    Do you think so too?


    We shall have many children. (To the Doctor) Lord,
    how you're grown!
    My Palamon, I hope, will grow too, finely,
    Now he's at liberty. Alas, poor chicken,
    He was kept down with hard meat and ill lodging,
    But I'll kiss him up again.
    Enter a Messenger

    What do you here? You'll lose the noblest sight
    That e'er was seen.

    Are they i'th' field?

    They are -
    You bear a charge there too.

    I'll away straight.
    (To the others) I must e'en leave you here.

    Nay, we'll go with you -
    I will not lose the sight.

    How did you like her?

    I'll warrant you, within these three or four days
    I'll make her right again.
    (Exit the Jailer with the Messenger)
    (To the Wooer)
    You must not from her,
    But still preserve her in this way.

    I will.

    Let's get her in.

    (to the Jailer's Daughter)
    Come, sweet, we'll go to dinner,
    And then we'll play at cards.

    And shall we kiss too?

    A hundred times.

    And twenty.

    Ay, and twenty.

    And then we'll sleep together.

    (to the Wooer)
    Take her offer.

    (to the Jailer's Daughter)
    Yes, marry, will we.

    But you shall not hurt me.

    I will not, sweet.

    If you do, love, I'll cry.

5.5 Scene 5

    Flourish. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous,
    and some attendants

    I'll no step further.

    Will you lose this sight?

    I had rather see a wren hawk at a fly
    Than this decision. Every blow that falls
    Threats a brave life; each stroke laments
    The place whereon it falls, and sounds more like
    A bell than blade. I will stay here.
    It is enough my hearing shall be punished
    With what shall happen, 'gainst the which there is
    No deafing, but to hear; not taint mine eye
    With dread sights it may shun.

    (to Theseus)
    Sir, my good lord,
    Your sister will no further.

    O, she must.
    She shall see deeds of honour in their kind,
    Which sometime show well pencilled. Nature now
    Shall make and act the story, the belief
    Both sealed with eye and ear. (To Emilia) You must be
    present -
    You are the victor's meed, the price and garland
    To crown the question's title.

    Pardon me,
    If I were there I'd wink.

    You must be there -
    This trial is, as 'twere, i'th' night, and you
    The only star to shine.

    I am extinct.
    There is but envy in that light which shows
    The one the other. Darkness, which ever was
    The dam of horror, who does stand accursed
    Of many mortal millions, may even now,
    By casting her black mantle over both,
    That neither could find other, get herself
    Some part of a good name, and many a murder
    Set off whereto she's guilty.

    You must go.

    In faith, I will not.

    Why, the knights must kindle
    Their valour at your eye. Know, of this war
    You are the treasure, and must needs be by
    To give the service pay.

    Sir, pardon me -
    The title of a kingdom may be tried
    Out of itself.

    Well, well - then at your pleasure.
    Those that remain with you could wish their office
    To any of their enemies.

    Farewell, sister.
    I am like to know your husband fore yourself,
    By some small start of time. He whom the gods
    Do of the two know best, I pray them he
    Be made your lot.
    Exeunt all but Emilia
    (Emilia takes out two pictures, one from her right side,
    and one from her left)

    Arcite is gently visaged, yet
    his eyeIs like an engine bent or a sharp weapon
    In a soft sheath. Mercy and manly courage
    Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon
    Has a most menacing aspect. His brow
    Is graved and seems to bury what it frowns on,
    Yet sometime 'tis not so, but alters to
    The quality of his thoughts. Long time his eye
    Will dwell upon his object. Melancholy
    Becomes him nobly - so does Arcite's mirth.
    But Palamon's sadness is a kind of mirth,
    So mingled as if mirth did make him sad
    And sadness merry. Those darker humours that
    Stick misbecomingly on others, on them
    Live in fair dwelling.
    Cornetts. Trumpets sound as to a charge
    Hark, how yon spurs to spirit do incite
    The princes to their proof. Arcite may win me,
    And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to
    The spoiling of his figure. O, what pity
    Enough for such a chance! If I were by
    I might do hurt, for they would glance their eyes
    Toward my seat, and in that motion might
    Omit a ward or forfeit an offence
    Which craved that very time. It is much better
    Cornetts. A great cry and noise within, crying, 'A
    I am not there. O better never born,
    Than minister to such harm.
    Enter Servant
    What is the chance?

    The cry's 'A Palamon'.

    Then he has won. 'Twas ever likely -
    He looked all grace and success, and he is
    Doubtless the prim'st of men. I prithee run
    And tell me how it goes.
    Shout and cornetts, crying, 'A Palamon'

    Still 'Palamon'.

    Run and enquire.
    Exit Servant
    (She speaks to the picture in her right hand)
    Poor servant, thou hast lost.
    Upon my right side still I wore thy picture,
    Palamon's on the left. Why so, I know not.
    I had no end in't, else chance would have it so.
    Another cry and shout within and cornetts
    On the sinister side the heart lies - Palamon
    Had the best-boding chance. This burst of clamour
    Is sure the end o'th' combat.
    Enter Servant

    They said that Palamon had Arcite's body
    Within an inch o'th' pyramid - that the cry
    Was general 'A Palamon'. But anon
    Th'assistants made a brave redemption, and
    The two bold titlers at this instant are
    Hand to hand at it.

    Were they metamorphosed
    Both into one! O why? There were no woman
    Worth so composed a man: their single share,
    Their nobleness peculiar to them, gives
    The prejudice of disparity, value's shortness,
    To any lady breathing -
    Cornetts. Cry within, 'Arcite, Arcite'
    More exulting?
    'Palamon' still?

    Nay, now the sound is 'Arcite'.

    I prithee, lay attention to the cry.
    Cornetts. A great shout and cry, 'Arcite, victory!'
    Set both thine ears to th' business.

    The cry is
    'Arcite' and 'Victory' - hark, 'Arcite, victory!'
    The combat's consummation is proclaimed
    By the wind instruments.

    Half sights saw
    That Arcite was no babe. God's lid, his richness
    And costliness of spirit looked through him - it could
    No more be hid in him than fire in flax,
    Than humble banks can go to law with waters
    That drift winds force to raging. I did think
    Good Palamon would miscarry, yet I knew not
    Why I did think so. Our reasons are not prophets
    When oft our fancies are. They are coming off -
    Alas, poor Palamon.
    (She puts away the pictures.)
    Cornetts. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous,
    Arcite as victor, and attendants

    Lo, where our sister is in expectation,
    Yet quaking and unsettled. Fairest Emily,
    The gods by their divine arbitrament
    Have given you this knight. He is a good one
    As ever struck at head. (To Arcite and Emilia)
    Give me your hands.
    (To Arcite) Receive you her, (to Emilia) you him:
    (to both) be plighted with
    A love that grows as you decay.

    To buy you I have lost what's dearest to me
    Save what is bought, and yet I purchase cheaply
    As I do rate your value.

    (to Emilia)
    O lovЉd sister,
    He speaks now of as brave a knight as e'er
    Did spur a noble steed. Surely the gods
    Would have him die a bachelor lest his race
    Should show i'th' world too godlike. His behaviour
    So charmed me that, methought, 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 lose by't; for he that was thus good,
    Encountered yet his better. I have heard
    Two emulous Philomels beat the ear o'th' night
    With their contentious throats, now one the higher,
    Anon the other, then again the first,
    And by and by out-breasted, that the sense
    Could not be judge between 'em - so it fared
    Good space between these kinsmen, till heavens did
    Make hardly one the winner. (To Arcite) Wear the
    With joy that you have won. - For the subdued,
    Give them our present justice, since I know
    Their lives but pinch 'em. Let it here be done.
    The scene's not for our seeing; go we hence
    Right joyful, with some sorrow. (To Arcite) Arm your
    I know you will not lose her. Hippolyta,
    I see one eye of yours conceives a tear,
    The which it will deliver.

    Is this winning?
    O all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy?
    But that your wills have said it must be so,
    And charge me live to comfort this unfriended,
    This miserable prince, that cuts away
    A life more worthy from him than all women,
    I should and would die too.

    Infinite pity
    That four such eyes should be so fixed on one
    That two must needs be blind for't.

    So it is.

5.6 Scene 6

    Enter, guarded, Palamon and his three Knights
    pinioned; enter with them the Jailer and an
    executioner with block and axe

    There's many a man alive that hath outlived
    The love o'th' people; yea, i'th' selfsame state
    Stands many a father with his child: some comfort
    We have by so considering. We expire,
    And not without men's pity; to live still,
    Have their good wishes. We prevent
    The loathsome misery of age, beguile
    The gout and rheum that in lag hours attend
    For grey approachers; we come towards the gods
    Young and unwappered, not halting under crimes
    Many and stale - that sure shall please the gods
    Sooner than such, to give us nectar with 'em,
    For we are more clear spirits. My dear kinsmen,
    Whose lives for this poor comfort are laid down,
    You have sold 'em too too cheap.

    What ending could be
    Of more content? O'er us the victors have
    Fortune, whose title is as momentary
    As to us death is certain - a grain of honour
    They not o'erweigh us.

    Let us bid farewell,
    And with our patience anger tott'ring fortune,
    Who at her certain'st reels.

    Come, who begins?

    E'en he that led you to this banquet shall
    Taste to you all. (To the Jailer) Aha, my friend, my
    Your gentle daughter gave me freedom once;
    You'll see't done now for ever. Pray, how does she?
    I heard she was not well; her kind of ill
    Gave me some sorrow.

    Sir, she's well restored
    And to be married shortly.

    By my short life,
    I am most glad on't. 'Tis the latest thing
    I shall be glad of. Prithee, tell her so;
    Commend me to her, and to piece her portion
    Tender her this.
    He gives his purse

    Nay, let's be offerers all.

    Is it a maid?

    Verily, I think so -
    A right good creature more to me deserving
    Than I can quit or speak of.

    Commend us to her.
    They give their purses

    The gods requite you all, and make her thankful.

    Adieu, and let my life be now as short
    As my leave-taking.
    He lies on the block

    Lead, courageous cousin.

    We'll follow cheerfully.
    A great noise within: crying, 'Run! Save! Hold!'
    Enter in haste a Messenger

    Hold! Hold! O, hold! Hold! Hold!
    Enter Pirithous in haste

    Hold, ho! It is a cursЉd haste you made
    If you have done so quickly! Noble Palamon,
    The gods will show their glory in a life
    That thou art yet to lead.

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

    Arise, great sir, and give the tidings ear
    That are most rarely sweet and bitter.

    Hath waked us from our dream?

    List, then: your cousin,
    Mounted upon a steed that Emily
    Did first bestow on him, a black one owing
    Not a hair-worth of white - which some will say
    Weakens his price and many will not buy
    His goodness with this note; which superstition
    Here finds allowance - on this horse is Arcite
    Trotting the stones of Athens, which the calkins
    Did rather tell than trample; for the horse
    Would make his length a mile, if't pleased his rider
    To put pride in him. As he thus went counting
    The flinty pavement, dancing, as 'twere, to th' music
    His own hooves made - for, as they say, from iron
    Came music's origin - what envious flint,
    Cold as old Saturn and like him possessed
    With fire malevolent, darted a spark,
    Or what fierce sulphur else, to this end made,
    I comment not - the hot horse, hot as fire,
    Took toy at this and fell to what disorder
    His power could give his will; bounds; comes on end;
    Forgets school-doing, being therein trained
    And of kind manЉge; pig-like he whines
    At the sharp rowel, which he frets at rather
    Than any jot obeys; seeks all foul means
    Of boist'rous and rough jad'ry to disseat
    His lord, that kept it bravely. When naught served,
    When neither curb would crack, girth break, nor diff'ring plunges
    Disroot his rider whence he grew, but that
    He kept him 'tween his legs, on his hind hooves -
    On end he stands -
    That Arcite's legs, being higher than his head,
    Seemed with strange art to hang. His victor's wreath
    Even then fell off his head; and presently
    Backward the jade comes o'er and his full poise
    Becomes the rider's load. Yet is he living;
    But such a vessel 'tis that floats but for
    The surge that next approaches. He much desires
    To have some speech with you - lo, he appears.
    Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, and Arcite in a chair
    borne by attendants

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

    Take Emilia,
    And with her all the world's joy. Reach thy hand -
    Farewell - I have told my last hour. I was false,
    Yet never treacherous. Forgive me, cousin -
    One kiss from fair Emilia - (they kiss) 'tis done.
    Take her; I die.
    He dies

    Thy brave soul seek Elysium.

    (to Arcite's body)
    I'll close thine eyes, Prince. BlessЉd souls be with thee.
    Thou art a right good man, and, while I live,
    This day I give to tears.

    And I to honour.

    In this place first you fought, e'en very here
    I sundered you. Acknowledge to the gods
    Our thanks that you are living.
    His part is played, and, though it were too short,
    He did it well. Your day is lengthened and
    The blissful dew of heaven does arrouse you.
    The powerful Venus well hath graced her altar,
    And given you your love; our master, Mars,
    Hath vouched his oracle, and to Arcite gave
    The grace of the contention. So the deities
    Have showed due justice. - Bear this hence.
    (Exeunt attendants with Arcite's body)

    O cousin,
    That we should things desire which do cost us
    The loss of our desire! That naught could buy
    Dear love, but loss of dear love!

    Never fortune
    Did play a subtler game - the conquered triumphs,
    The victor has the loss. Yet in the passage
    The gods have been most equal. Palamon,
    Your kinsman hath confessed the right o'th' lady
    Did lie in you, for you first saw her and
    Even then proclaimed your fancy. He restored her
    As your stol'n jewel, and desired your spirit
    To send him hence forgiven. The gods my justice
    Take from my hand, and they themselves become
    The executioners. Lead your lady off,
    And call your lovers from the stage of death,
    Whom I adopt my friends. A day or two
    Let us look sadly and give grace unto
    The funeral of Arcite, in whose end
    The visages of bridegrooms we'll put on
    And smile with Palamon, for whom an hour,
    But one hour since, I was as dearly 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 lack
    We laugh, for what we have, are sorry; still
    Are children in some kind. Let us be thankful
    For that which is, and with you leave dispute
    That are above our question. Let's go off
    And bear us like the time.
    Flourish. Exeunt

    Enter Epilogue

    I would now ask ye how ye like the play,
    But, as it is with schoolboys, cannot say.
    I am cruel fearful. Pray yet stay awhile,
    And let me look upon ye. No man smile?
    Then it goes hard, I see. He that has
    Loved a young handsome wench, then, show his face -
    'Tis strange if none be here - and, if he will,
    Against his conscience let him hiss and kill
    Our market. 'Tis in vain, I see, to stay ye.
    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 meant 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.
    Flourish. Exit

6.0 Dramatis Personae



      і A і

   a.  (as pronoun) familiar, unstressed form of 'he'
   abatement.  reduction, depreciation
   able.  to vouch for
   about.  irregularly, indirectly; be on the move
   abroad.  away, apart, on foot, current
   absolute.  complete, certain, positive, beyond doubt
   abuse.  wrong, ill-usage, deception; to deceive, dishonour
   addition.  mark of distinction, title
   admire.  wonder, marvel
   advantage.  opportunity, interest on money; to profit
   adventure.  chance, hazard, to risk
   advice.  consideration, forethought
   advised.  cautious, aware, carefully considered
   Aeneas.  a Trojan prince who carried his father, Anchises, from the
   blazing city.  Dido, Queen of Carthage, received him and his son,
   Ascanius. She fell in love with him, but he left Carthage at the gods'
   command, and Dido committed suicide.
   affect.  affection, tendency, disposition; love, like, imitate
   affected.  disposed, in love
   affection.  passion, desire, disposition, affectation
   after.  according to, at the rate of
   against.  in expectation of, in preparation for the time when, in time for
   alarum.  call to arms, assault
   Alcides.  Hercules
   allowance.  admission of a claim, reputation
   an.  if, though, whether, as if
   anatomy.  skeleton
   anon.  soon, 'coming'
   antic.  grotesque pageant, clown; fantastic
   Apollo.  god of the sun, music and poetry. Daphne, escaping from his
   pursuit, was changed to a laurel.
   appliance.  service, remedy, treatment
   appointment.  equipment, instruction
   argue.  prove, show
   argument.  proof, subject of debate, subject-matter, summary
   arm.  reach, take in one's arms
   armipotent.  powerful in arms
   arras.  wall-tapestry
   aspect.  look, glance, position and influence of a planet, sight
   assurance.  pledge, deed of conveyance, guarantee
   assure.  betroth, convey property
   aught.  anything
   aunt.  old woman, bawd, girl friend

      і B і

   banquet.  dessert, light meal of fruit and sweetmeats
   bastard.  sweet Spanish wine
   bate.  trouble; beat wings ready for flight, blunt, reduce, grow less,
   bend.  look, glance; to turn, incline, direct, strain, submit
   bent.  inclination, direction, tension, force, range, aim
   blazon.  coat of arms, description, proclamation; to proclaim, praise
   blow.  swell, blossom, (of flies) deposit eggs (on), defile
   boot.  booty, profit, advantage, help, use, avail, addition; to be of use,
   profit, present in addition
   bottom.  ship, valley, bobbin; to wind on a bobbin
   brace.  suit of armour, readiness
   brave.  finely dressed, splendid, excellent; bravado or threat; to adorn,
   challenge, defy, swagger, taunt
   bravery.  bravado, finery, splendour, ostentation, defiance
   breast.  voice
   breathe.  speak, exercise, rest
   breathed.  exercised, valiant, inspired
   brief.  letter, summary
   broke.  bargain
   broken.  (of music) in parts, scored for different instruments
   burn.  infect with venereal disease

      і C і

   can.  to know, be skilled in
   carrack.  galleon
   carve.  cut, shape, invite with look and gesture
   case.  vagina
   cast.  throw of dice, tinge, founding; to throw, vomit, reckon, add
   centre.  centre of the earth or the universe
   Ceres.  goddess of agriculture
   certain.  fixed
   challenge.  claim, accuse
   changeling.  waverer
   character.  writing, hand-writing; to write
   child.  baby girl, youth of noble birth
   clip.  embrace
   clown.  rustic, jester
   coil.  noisy disturbance, fuss, trouble
   colour.  pretext, excuse
   colours.  military ensigns
   companion.  knave
   complexion.  bodily habit or constitution, temperament, appearance, colour
   conscience.  knowledge, understanding, scruple
   convent.  convene, summon
   conversation.  intercourse, behaviour
   cope.  sky; have to do with, encounter, recompense
   couch.  hide, lie hidden, make crouch
   counsel.  secret, secret purpose or thought
   Counter.  debtors' prison
   cousin.  nephew, kinsman, relative
   coy.  scorn, stroke
   credit.  credibility, reputation, report
   cry.  pack of hounds; yelp in following scent
   cunning.  knowledge, skill; ingenious
   curious.  anxious, needing care, fastidious, difficult to please,
   delicate, beautifully made; delicately
   cut.  docked or gelded horse; vulva
   Cynthia.  goddess of the moon

      і D і

   Daedalus.  with his son Icarus, escaped from imprisonment on home-made
   wings. Icarus flew too high, the sun melted the wax, and he was drowned.
   Daedalus escaped.
   danger.  harm, injury, power to harm, range (of a weapon), debt
   dare.  dazzle
   dear.  important, energetic, dire
   determine.  end, settle, decide
   Diana.  goddess of hunting, the moon, and chastity
   Dido.  see AENEAS
   Dis.  god of the underworld
   discourse.  reasoning, talk, conversational power, familiarity
   dispose.  disposal, control, disposition, temperament, manner; to control,
   direct, incline, come to terms
   distemper.  ill humour, illness of mind or body, intoxication; disturb,
   do.  copulate (with)
   dole.  portion, share, grief, sorrow
   doom.  judgement
   doubt.  suspicion, fear; to suspect, fear
   draught.  cesspool, privy
   draw.  withdraw, empty, search for game, track by scent
   drift.  purpose, plot, shower

      і E і

   ear.  plough
   edge.  appetite, desire
   eftsoons.  soon
   embossed.  swollen, foaming at the mouth
   engine.  artifice, plot, mechanical contrivance, rack
   enormous.  disordered, irregular
   entreat.  treat, negotiate, intercede
   envy.  malice, enmity; show malice towards
   event.  outcome, issue, result
   extravagant.  straying, vagrant

      і F і

   face.  appearance, appearance of right; to put on a false appearance,
   brave, bully, brazen, trim
   fail.  failure, fault; to offend, die
   fain.  glad, obliged
   fame.  rumour, report, reputation; make famous
   fancy.  love, whimsicality; to love, fall in love with
   favour.  leniency, something given as a mark of favour, badge, charm,
   appearance, look, face, feature
   feat.  dexterous, graceful; show to advantage; deed
   feed.  pasture
   fell.  fierce, cruel, enraged; skin, covering of hair or wool, fleece
   fere.  spouse
   fight.  screen for protection of crew in sea battle
   file.  catalogue, list, roll, rank, number; to smooth, polish, defile
   fine.  end; to end, pay, fix as sum payable, punish
   flesh.  initiate in bloodshed, inflame, gratify
   flourish.  gloss, embellishment, florid decoration, fanfare of trumpets
   foison.  harvest, plentiful crop
   fond.  foolish, silly, trivial, eager, desirous
   fool.  professional jester, term of endearment or pity, plaything
   foot.  see FOUTRE
   forbid.  cursed
   former.  foremost
   forwhy.  because
   frame.  contriving, structure, plan; to prepare, go, bring to pass,
   frampold.  disagreeable
   free.  generous, magnanimous, innocent, untroubled; to absolve, banish
   friend.  lover, mistress
   frieze.  coarse woollen cloth
   fury.  rage, passion, poetic passion, goddess of vengeance

      і G і

   gall.  resentment, bitterness; to rub sore, chafe, graze, wound, harass,
   garland.  royal crown, glory
   generous.  high-born
   gentle.  of noble birth; to ennoble
   George.  jewel bearing figure of the saint, part of insignia of Order of
   the Garter
   glance.  (at) hint at, cast a slight on
   glass.  mirror, sand-glass
   go.  walk
   go to!.  expression of disapproval, protest, or disbelief
   good.  financially sound, rich
   gout.  drop
   grece.  step, stair, degree
   grow.  be or become due
   guard.  caution, border, trimming; to ornament

      і H і

   habit.  dress, appearance
   hair.  kind, character
   half.  partner
   haply.  perhaps, by chance
   happiness.  handsomeness, appropriateness, opportunity
   havoc.  devastation; cry havoc, give the signal to an army to plunder
   hazard.  game at dice, chance, venture
   head.  headland, topic, army
   heap.  crowd
   heavy.  important, dull, sluggish, sleepy, grievous
   Hercules.  as a baby strangled two serpents; performed twelve great
   labours, including the obtaining of the golden apples of the Hesperides
   and the overcoming of Cerberus, the three-headed dog of the underworld
   hilding.  contemptible, good-for-nothing, baggage
   him.  male (dog)
   hoar.  grow mouldy
   holding.  consistency, burden of a song
   honest.  worthy, virtuous, chaste
   honesty.  honour, decency, chastity
   honour.  chastity
   host.  lodge
   humour.  moisture; bodily fluid supposedly composed of blood, phlegm,
   choler, and melancholy, the proportions determining personal temperament;
   temperament, mood, whim, caprice, inclination
   hurry.  commotion, disorder
   husband.  one who keeps house; to farm, till
   Hymen.  god of marriage

      і I і

   imposition.  imputation, accusation, command
   inclining.  compliant; party, inclination
   indifferent.  impartial, ordinary; tolerably, fairly
   infuse.  shed, imbue
   innocent.  idiot, half-wit
   intelligence.  communication, information, news, obtaining of secret
   information, spy; to pass information
   interest.  right, title, share

      і J і

   jade.  horse of poor condition or vicious temper, term of contempt; to
   wear out, make a fool of
   jealous.  suspicious, afraid, apprehensive, doubtful
   jealousy.  suspicion, apprehension, mistrust
   jig.  quick lively dance, short lively comic entertainment
   Jove.  poetic form of JUPITER
   jump.  just, precisely; hazard; to hazard, agree, coincide
   Juno.  queen of the gods and wife of Jupiter; goddess of marriage
   Jupiter.  ruler of the gods. He was thought to hurl thunderbolts at
   mortals who displeased him, but otherwise was best known for his many
   amorous adventures.
   just.  true, honourable, exact
   justify.  maintain the innocence of, vindicate, prove, corroborate
   justly.  with good reason

      і K і

   kind.  natural, tender, courteous, affectionate; nature, way, race, sort
   kindle.  bring forth
   kindly.  naturally, properly, exactly
   knot.  fancifully laid-out flower bed or garden plot

      і L і

   laboured.  worn out, highly finished
   lag.  last, late
   large.  generous, lavish, free, improper
   laund.  glade
   lay.  wager
   learn.  teach
   let.  hindrance; to hinder, forbear, cause
   liable.  subject, suitable
   liberal.  accomplished, humane, abundant, free in speech, unrestrained,
   lie.  to lodge, stay, be still, in prison or in defensive posture
   lief.  dear
   light.  frivolous, unchaste, swift, easy, merry, trivial, delirious
   like.  please, be in good condition
   liking.  bodily condition
   line.  rank, Equator, cord for taking measurements; copulate with
   list.  limit, bound, barriers enclosing tilting ground, desire; to please,
   long.  belong
   lose.  to ruin, forget
   lover.  friend, mistress
   luce.  pike as heraldic device
   lust.  pleasure, desire
   lusty.  merry, lustful

      і M і

   maculate.  stained, impure
   mainly.  with force, greatly, perfectly
   make.  mate, husband or wife
   making.  form, appearance
   mankind.  resembling a man, violent, ferocious
   marry.  (as an exclamation) by (the Virgin) Mary
   Mars.  god of war and patron of soldiers
   meal.  spot, stain
   mean.  something between or intervening, middle, medium position, tenor,
   alto; to lament
   measure.  a stately dance; tune; to measure
   meed.  reward, gift, merit
   memory.  memorial, memento, remembrance
   mere.  sure, absolute, unqualified, only
   merit.  reward
   methinks.  it seems to me
   mickle.  great
   mistake.  take, undertake or deliver wrongly, misjudge, blunder, feel
   misgiving about
   mistress.  the jack at bowls
   modest.  moderate, satisfactory, becoming
   modestly.  without exaggeration
   modesty.  moderation, avoidance of exaggeration
   moiety.  half, share, small part
   mood.  anger, outward appearance, mode
   mother.  hysteria
   motion.  motive, puppet show, puppet; to propose
   muset.  gap
   mutual.  common, intimate
   mystery.  trade, profession, skill

      і N і

   natural.  that is so by birth, related by blood, kind, tender; half-wit
   naught.  wickedness, wicked, ruined, ruin
   Neptune.  god of the sea
   next.  nearest, quickest
   nice.  wanton, delicate, shy, difficult to please, fastidious, scrupulous,
   subtle, needing precision, delicately balanced, intricate, exact, skilful,
   niceness.  coyness, fastidiousness
   niggard.  to act in a miserly way, supply sparingly
   noise.  rumour, music, band of musicians; clamour, spread by rumour
   nothing.  vulva

      і O і

   observe.  humour
   offer.  act on the offensive, venture
   office.  function, service
   offices.  parts of a house devoted to household matters
   omit.  neglect, disregard, lay aside
   opinion.  censure, public judgement, self-conceit, self-confidence
   owe.  own, possess

      і P і

   pace.  train (a horse) to pace
   pack.  gang; conspire, shuffle (cards), to cheat, be off
   pale.  fence, enclosure; enclose, encircle
   parcel.  part, item, group
   part.  action, side
   passion.  suffering, affliction, fit of disease, overpowering emotion,
   passionate speech, sorrow; feel deep emotion
   patch.  fool
   patience.  permission, leave
   pattern.  precedent, model; to give an example, be a pattern or precedent
   peculiar.  individual, private, belonging to one person
   pelting.  paltry, worthless
   perfect.  fully informed, equipped, ready; accomplish, instruct
   Phoebus.  Apollo, god of the sun
   phoenix.  unique Arabian bird which, dying, is recreated from its own
   pie.  magpie
   piece.  cask of liquor, masterpiece; add to, augment
   pinch.  bite, pang; to bite, harass, distress
   plant.  sole of the foot
   plight.  pledge
   point.  highest point, conclusion, lace with tags (for attaching hose to
   doublet, etc.), full stop
   port.  gate, bearing, style of living
   possess.  inform, acquaint
   post.  post set up for notices, etc., doorpost on which tavern reckoning
   was kept, courier, messenger, post-horse; to hasten, carry swiftly
   power.  army
   praise.  appraise, value
   prefer.  present, advance, introduce, recommend
   prejudice.  injury; injure
   presence.  presence chamber, company, person
   present.  immediate, instant; ready money, to show, represent, bring a
   charge against
   presently.  immediately
   press.  crowd, crowding, printing-press, cupboard, authority to enlist men
   compulsorily; to crowd, oppress, force into military service
   prevent.  anticipate, escape, avoid
   prick.  mark made by pricking, dot, point spot in centre of target,
   prickle, penis; to mark by making a dot, etc., pierce fix, point, spur
   pride.  magnificence, splendid adornment highest state, mettle, sexual
   prime.  first, chief, sexually excited; springtime
   prithee.  please
   prize.  contest; to value, esteem
   project.  notion, idea; set forth, exhibit
   prolong.  postpone
   prone.  ready, eager
   proof.  test, trial, experience, issue, result
   proper.  (one's) own, private, peculiar, excellent, handsome
   prorogue.  prolong, postpone
   proud.  elated, giving cause for pride, lofty, splendid, spirited,
   swollen, over-luxuriant, sexually excited
   prove.  try, test, find by experience, experience
   puissance.  strength, armed force
   purchase.  booty, prize, annual rent from land; to strive, gain, acquire
   otherwise than by inheritance
   purpose.  proposal, conversation

      і Q і

   quaint.  skilful, clever, dainty, fine, beautiful, elaborate
   quality.  accomplishment, rank, profession, party, side, manner, cause
   quarter.  part, watch, relations with and conduct towards another
   quick.  flowing, fresh, impatient
   quit.  set free, rid, acquit, acquit oneself of, revenge, repay, requite

      і R і

   race.  root (of ginger), lineage, breed, natural disposition
   rage.  madness, angry disposition, sexual passion; to enrage
   rank.  growing too luxuriantly, swollen grown too fat, rebellious, high,
   full, lustful, in heat, coarse, festering; closely
   rate.  estimate, value, expense
   raven.  devour greedily
   read.  teach, discover the meaning of, expound a riddle
   reason.  speech, remark; to talk, discuss, explain
   reck.  to care (for), mind
   record.  witness, memory; to witness, sing
   reduce.  bring, bring back
   reflect.  shine
   regiment.  authority, rule
   rehearsal.  account
   rehearse.  describe, tell
   remember.  mention, commemorate, remind
   removed.  remote, secluded, separated by time or space
   repair.  restoring, coming; go, come, return
   respect.  relationship, discrimination, consideration, esteem; to regard,
   care for, esteem
   rest.  place to rest, restored strength, resolution, stakes kept in
   retire.  return
   retreat.  recall of pursuing force
   rheum.  mucus from nose or throat, cold in the head, rheumatism
   round.  plain, plain-spoken, severe; round dance, roundabout way, rung of
   a ladder; surround, become round
   royal.  gold coin of the value of ten shillings (fifty pence)
   rub.  in bowls an obstacle hindering or turning aside the bowl, obstacle,
   hindrance, roughness, unevenness; to turn aside, hinder
   rude.  ignorant, barbarous, violent, rough

      і S і

   sad.  steadfast, grave, serious, dismal
   sadly.  gravely, seriously
   sadness.  seriousness
   safe.  make safe
   safety.  custody, safeguard
   sauce.  over-charge, rebuke
   saw.  saying, maxim, proverb
   say.  finely woven cloth, taste, saying
   scape.  escapade, transgression; escape
   school.  university, instruction, learning; reprimand, discipline
   scorn.  taunt, insult, object of contempt
   scurril.  coarsely abusive
   secure.  free from care, confident, unsuspicious; make confident or
   seeing.  appearance
   seely.  foolish, innocent, harmless
   seen.  skilled
   self.  one's own, same
   sense.  physical feeling, sensuality, sexual desire, mental apprehension,
   mind, opinion
   sequent.  succeeding, following
   service.  what is placed on the table for a meal
   several.  distinct, different, individual, respective, various
   severally.  separately, at different entrance or exits
   shadow.  shade; to hide, shelter
   shame.  to be ashamed
   shrewd.  wicked, mischievous, bad-tempered, dangerous, evil, difficult
   sight.  visor
   single.  slight, trivial, sincere, simple
   sinister.  left (hand), unfavourable, unjust
   sink.  cause to fall, ruin; sewer, drain
   sirrah.  form of address used mainly to inferiors
   skill.  judgement, reason, ability; to make a difference, matter
   sod.  steeped, boiled
   soiled.  fed with fresh-cut green fodder
   sole.  unique, mere, alone
   solemnity.  ceremony, festivity
   solicit.  urging, entreaty; move, stir, bring something about
   sometime.  at some time, sometimes, once, formerly
   sore.  buck, deer, in its fourth year
   sort.  lot, rank, company, group, way, state; allot, ordain, come about,
   turn out, be suitable, correspond, adapt, fit, classify, choose, contrive,
   go in company
   sound.  utter, proclaim, keep sound
   speed.  fortune, outcome, protection, assistance; to fare (well or ill),
   turn out, be successful, assist, favour
   spring.  fountain, source, shoot of a plant
   spurn.  kick, insult, blow; to kick, oppose scornfully
   square.  fair, just; carpenter's set-square, measure, rule; body of troops
   in square formation, square of material in bosom of a dress; to regulate,
   quarrel (among), be at variance
   staff.  shaft of lance, lance, stanza
   stale.  decoy, bait, prostitute, laughingstock, urine (of horses)
   stamp.  stamping tool, coin, medal, distinguishing mark, imprint; to
   impress, mark with an impression, give approval to
   stand.  place where one stands in ambush or in hiding; confront, oppose,
   stand firm; stand at a guard with, be fully protected against; stand on,
   upon, insist on, persist in, depend on, rely on, concern, be the duty or
   interest of; stand to, have an erection, support, maintain, be firm in,
   persist in; stand to it, maintain a cause, take a stand
   start.  sudden invasion, sudden flight, impulse ; to startle, rush
   state.  condition, condition of health or prosperity, rank, dignity, chair
   of state throne, nobles, ruling body, government
   stay.  obstacle; detain, stand, stand firm wait (for), attend on
   stead.  to be of use to, help
   stern.  rudder
   stick.  stab, be fastened or fixed, hesitate
   still.  always, continually
   stomach.  appetite, inclination, temper, courage, pride, anger; resent
   stone.  mirror, thunderbolt, testicle; turn to stone
   stop.  hole in a wind-instrument, stopped to produce a difference in
   pitch, fingering of musical chords, fret of a lute; staunch, heal
   store.  breeding, increase; to populate
   stout.  bold, strong, proud
   strait.  narrow, tight-fitting, strict, niggardly; narrow place,
   strange.  foreign, new, not knowing, unfriendly, cold, shy
   strangely.  coldly, without greeting, as a stranger, to an extraordinary
   degree, in an unusual way
   strength.  authority, legal power, body troops
   strike.  to lower (sail), blast, destroy, tap (a cask)
   stubborn.  inflexible, stiff, rude, harsh, ruthless
   stuff.  semen
   style.  title
   success.  outcome, result, good or bad fortune, succession
   sufficient.  able, able to meet liabilities, solvent
   supply.  help, reinforcements
   sure.  safe, beyond power of doing harm, reliable, united
   swart.  dark, swarthy
   swear.  swear out, forswear
   sweat.  sweating sickness, sweating cure; take a sweating cure
   sweet.  scented; scent
   swim.  float

      і T і

   tailor.  ? sex organ
   take.  strike, strike with disease or enchantment, catch, take effect,
   reckon, measure, write down, accept as true, catch fire, perceive,
   understand, esteem, take away, conclude; take head, deviate, run off its
   course; take in, capture; take me with you, speak so that I can understand
   you; take it on, assume authority; take on, rage, show great distress,
   pretend; take out, make a copy of; take up lift, enlist, arrest, buy on
   credit, rebuke, reprimand, oppose, encounter, make up (a quarrel)
   taking.  blasting; state of great excitement or alarm, malignant influence
   tale.  numbering one after another, talk, story, falsehood
   tall.  long, lofty, goodly, fine, brave
   'tame.  broach (a cask)
   task.  tax, impose a task on, occupy, put a strain on, put to proof
   tell.  count
   temper.  disposition, temperament, mental balance, hardness and elasticity
   imparted to steel; to compound, mix, persuade
   tender.  offer, thing offered, care; to exhibit, pay down, care for;
   sensitive, compassionate
   tent.  probe; to probe, cure (a wound), lodge
   thankful.  deserving thanks
   thick.  rapid, dim
   thing.  sexual organ
   think.  seem
   thought.  anxiety, sorrow
   tickle.  unstable, precarious; please, provoke
   timely.  early, in due season
   tis.  this (dialectal)
   to.  in addition to, against, appropriate to, in comparison with, in
   respect of, as to
   toil.  net, snare; to cause to work hard, weary with work
   token.  spot of infection, plague-spot
   tool.  weapon, penis
   top.  head, forelock, highest point; to surpass, copulate with
   touch.  touchstone, taint; sound, test, wound
   trace.  follow, pass (through)
   trade.  coming and going, path, habit, business
   train.  tail, troop, bait; draw, entice, lead astray
   trick.  custom, way, knack, touch (of a disease), toy; to adorn, blazon
   troth.  truth, faith, word of honour
   try.  test; purify, refine, prove
   tyranny.  violence, outrage
   tyrant.  usurper

      і U і

   unclasp.  reveal
   undertaker.  one who takes on himself another's quarrel, one who settles
   unhappy.  ill-fated, wretched, mischievous
   unkind.  unnatural
   up.  in arms, in rebellion, in prison; up and down, completely, exactly
   upon.  because of, in consequence of
   use.  habit, custom, usual experience, advantage, profit, lending at
   interest, interest on something lent, need; to be accustomed, continue,
   make a practice of, deal with, treat, go often

      і V і

   vain.  foolish, silly, unreal
   value.  estimate, be worth
   vantage.  advantage, gain, superiority, vantage-ground, opportunity
   vengeance.  harm, injury
   Venus.  goddess of love and beauty; wife of Vulcan, the smith-god, but
   more often associated with her lover Mars
   virtue.  courage, merit, accomplishment, power, efficacy, essence,
   essential characteristic
   virtuous.  powerful, beneficial
   voice.  speech, words, common talk, rumour, report, expressed opinion,
   judgement, vote, approval, authority to be heard; to acclaim, vote

      і W і

   walk.  tract of forest
   want.  lack, miss
   wanton.  frolicsome, lawless, capricious, luxurious, luxuriant, lustful,
   unchaste; spoilt child, pampered darling, roguish, sportful, unruly or
   lustful creature
   ward.  guard, custody, prison-cell, defensive position in fencing; guard,
   warrant.  guarantee, assure
   waste.  spend, consume
   watch.  wakefulness, sleeplessness, watchfulness; be awake, keep from
   sleep, catch in the act
   water.  lustre
   wear.  fashion; carry, possess, be fashionable, weary
   week.  to be in by the, be caught, ensnared, deeply in love
   where.  whereas
   whipstock.  whip-handle
   wide.  missing the mark, astray
   wild.  reckless, distracted, (of sea) open
   will.  sexual desire, sexual organ (male or female)
   wink.  sleep, close one's eyes
   wit.  mental power, mind, sense, wisdom, imagination, one who has such
   qualities; know
   withal.  with this, with it, as well, at the same time, with
   without.  beyond
   wonder.  admiration; admire, marvel
   wood.  mad
   world.  to go to the, marry; a woman of the, married woman
   worn.  exhausted, past
   worship.  dignity, honour, authority; to honour
   worthy.  excellent, valuable, deserved, well-founded, fitting

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