Arc. Not far, sir.

Are there such games to-day?

1 Coun. Yes, marry are there;

And such as you ne'er saw: The duke himself."

Will be in person there.

Arc. What pastimes are they?

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 look'd on: Next, I pitied him;
And so would any young wench, o' my con-
science,

That ever dream'd, or vow'd 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 good-

ness

'Get thee a happy husband! Once he kiss'd

me;

3 Coun. Thou wilt not go along?

Arc. Not yet, sir.

4 Coun. Well, sir,

Take your own time. Come, boys!

1 Coun. My mind misgives me

This fellow has a vengeance trick o'th' hip;
Mark, how his body's made for't!

2 Coun. I'll be hang'd though,

If he dare venture; hang him, plumb-porridge! He wrastle? He roast eggs. Come, let's be gone, lads!

[Exeunt Countrymen. Arc. This is an offer'd opportunity I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled,

The best men call'd it excellent; and run, Swifter the wind upon a field of corn, (Curling the wealthy ears) ne'er flew. I'll ven

ture,

And in some poor disguise be there: Who knows Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands, And happiness prefer me to a place,

Where I may ever dwell in sight of her? [Exit.

SCENE IV.

Enter Jailor's Daughter.

Daugh. 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,

To set him free? what says the law then?
Thus much for law, or kindred! I will do it,
And this night, or to-morrow: He shall love me!
[Exit.

SCENE V.

[A short flourish of cornets, and shouts within. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLITA, PERITHOUS, EMILIA, and ARCITE, with a garland, &c.

Thes. 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.

Arc. I'm proud to please you.
Thes. What country bred you?
Arc. This; but far off, prince.
Thes. Are you a gentleman?
Arc. My father said so;
And to those gentle uses gave me life.
Thes. Are you his heir?
Arc. His youngest, sir.
Thes. Your father

Sure is a happy sire then. What prove you?
Arc. A little of all noble qualities:

I could have kept a hawk, and well have halloo'd
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 great-
est,

I would be thought a soldier.

Thes. You are perfect.

Per. Upon my soul, a proper man!
Emi. He is so.

Hip. But his body,

And fiery mind, illustrate a brave father.

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

Hip. He's well got, sure.

Thes. What made you seek this place, sir?
Arc. 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.

Per. All his words are worthy.

Thes. Sir, we are much indebted to your travel,

Nor shall you lose your wishes. Perithous,

Dispose of this fair gentleman.

Per. Thanks, Theseus!

You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you
This afternoon to ride; but 'tis a rough one.
Arc. I like him better, prince; I shall not then
Freeze in my saddle.

Thes. Sweet, you must be ready;
And you, Emilia; and you, friend; and all;
To-morrow, by the sun, to do observance
To flow'ry May, in Dian's wood. Wait well, sir,
Upon your mistress! Emily, I hope
He shall not go afoot.

Emi. That were a shame, sir,

While I have horses. Take your choice; and what

You want at any time, let me but know it:
If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you
You'll find a loving mistress.

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 wen-
ches,

Some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge,
And tell to memory my death was noble,
Dying almost a martyr. That way he takes,
purpose, is my way too: Sure he cannot
Be so unmanly as to leave me here!
If he do, maids will not so easily

I

Trust men again: And yet he has not thank'd

me

For what I've done; no, not so much as kiss'd

me;

And that, methinks, is not so well; nor scarcely
Could I persuade him to become a freeman,
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 cloaths up,
And where there is a path of ground I'll venture,
So he be with me! by him, like a shadow,
I'll ever dwell. Within this hour the whoobub
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 daugh-
ters,

And shortly you may keep yourself. Now to [Exit.

him!

SCENE I.

Cornets in sundry places. Noise and hallooing as people a-maying.

Enter ARCITE.

Arc. The duke has lost Hippolita; each took
A several land. This is a solemn rite
They owe bloom'd May, and the Athenians pay it
To th' heart of ceremony. Oh, queen Emilia,
Fresher than May, sweeter

Than her gold buttons on the boughs, or all
Th' enamell'd knacks o'th' meed or garden! yea,
We challenge too the bank of any nymph,
That makes the stream seem flowers; thou, oh,
jewel

O'th' wood, o'th' world, hast likewise blest a place

With thy sole presence.-In thy rumination
That I poor man might eftsoons come between,
And chop on some cold thought!-Thrice bles-
sed chance,

To drop on such a mistress! Expectation
Most guiltless of't! Tell me, oh, 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 back'd, 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 ear'd her language, lived in her eye, oh, coz,
What passion would enclose thee!

Arc. Dear cousin Palamon-

Pal. Cozener Arcite, give me language such As thou hast shew'd me feat!

Arc. 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 shew 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.

Pal. That thou durst, Arcite!

Arc. 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, tho' i' th' sanctuary.

Pal. Sir,

Pal. 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 confess'd traitor! Oh, thou most perfidious
That ever gently look'd! 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,

Nor worth the name of villain! Had I a sword,
And these house-clogs away--

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.

Arc. 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.

If he not answer'd, I should call a wolf,
And do him but that service. I have heard
Strange howls this live-long night; why may't
not be

They have made prey of him? He has no weapons;

He cannot run; the jingling of his gyves
Might call fell things to listen, who have in them
A sense to know a man unarm'd, and can
Smell where resistance is. I'll set it down
He's torn to pieces; they howl'd many together,
And then they fed on him: So much for that!
Be bold to ring the bell; how stand I then?
All's char'd when he is gone. No, no, I lie;
My father's to be hang'd for his escape;
Myself to beg, if I priz'd life so much
As to deny my act; but that I would not,
Should I try death by dozens!-I am mop'd:
Food took I none these two days,

Sipt some water; I've not clos'd mine eyes,
Save when my lids scour'd off their brine. Alas,
Dissolve, my life! let not my sense unsettlę,
Lest I should drown, or stab, or hang myself!
Oh, state of Nature, fail together in me,
Since thy best props are warp'd--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!

SCENE III.

[Exit.

good blood, man.

Do not you feel it thaw you?

Pal. Stay; I'll tell you

After a draught or two more,

Arc. Spare it not;

The duke has more, coz. Eat now!

Give me more wine: Here, Arcite, to the wenches We have known in our days! The lord-steward's daughter;

Do you remember her?

Arc. After you, coz.

Pal. She lov'd a black-hair'd man.

Arc. She did so: Well, sir?

Pal. And I have heard some call him Arcite; and-

Arc. Out with it, faith!

Pal. She met him in an arbour:

What did she there, coz? Play o' th' virginals? Arc. Something she did, sir.

Pal. Made her groan a month for't;

Or two, or three, or ten.

Arc. The marshal's sister

Had her share too, as I remember, cousin,

Else there be tales abroad: You'll pledge her? Pal. Yes.

Arc. 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. Heigh-ho!

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

Arc. You're wide.

Pal. By Heav'n and earth, There's nothing in thee honest! Arc. Then I'll leave you:

You are a beast now.

Pal. As thou mak'st me, traitor.

Arc. 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.

Pul. A sword and armour?

Pal. Sirrah--

cry!

Up with her 'fore 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'm very hungry:

'Would I could find a fine frog! he would tell me News from all part's o' th' world; then would I make

A carrack of a cockle-shell, and sail

By east and north-east to the king of pigmies,
For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father,
Twenty to one, is truss'd up in a trice
To-morrow morning; I'll say never a word.

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!

Farewell!

there are you,

10