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 Dedalus, 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 morr-of mickle weight;
Is-now comes in, which being glew'd 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 welcome to their cost
The galled traveller, and with a beck'ning
Informs the tapster to inflame the reck❜ning:
Then the beast-eating clown, and next the fool,
The Bavian, with long tail, and eke long tool;
Cum multis aliis, that make a dance;
Say ay, and all shall presently advance.

Thes. Ay, ay, by any means, dear domine!
Per. Produce.

Ger. Intrate fili! Come forth, and foot it.

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.

Thes. Take twenty, domine!-How does my sweetheart?

Hip. Never so pleas'd, sir.

Emi. 'Twas an excellent dance; And, for a preface, I never heard a better. Thes. Schoolmaster, I thank you. One see 'em all rewarded!

Per. And here's something to paint your pole withal.

Thes. Now to our sports again.

Ger. May the stag thou hunt'st stand long,
And thy dogs be swift and strong!
May they kill him without letts,
And the ladies cat's dowsets!

Enter PALAMON from the bush.

Pal. 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'rt 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! Oh, good-morrow!

Enter ARCITE, with armours and swords.

Arc. Good-morrow, noble kinsman !
Pal. I have put you
To too much pains, sir.

Arc. That too much, fair cousin,

Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.
Pal. 'Would you were so in all, sir! I could
wish you

As kind a kinsman, as you force me find
A beneficial foe, that my embraces
Might thank you, not my blows.

Arc. I shall think either,

Well done, a noble recompense.

Pal. Then I shall quit you.

Arc. Defy me in these fair terms, and you

shew

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. Wilt please you
arm, sir?

Or if you feel yourself not fitting yet,
And furnish'd with your old strength, I'll stay,
cousin,

And
every day discourse you into health,
As I am spar'd: your person I am friends with,
And I could wish I had not said I lov'd her,
Though I had died; but loving such a lady,
And justifying my love, I must not fly from't.

Pal. Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy,
Thit no man but thy cousin's fit to kill thee

Through far enough.

Arc. I warrant you.

Pal. My casque now.

Arc. Will you fight bare-arm'd?

Pal. We shall be the nimbler.

say?

Pal. 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 killest 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!
Arc. Here, Palamon! this hand shall never

more

Come near thee with such friendship.

Pal. I commend thee.

are o' th' least;

Prithee take mine, good cousin!

Pal. Thank you, Arcite!

How do I look? am I fall'n much away?

Arc. Faith, very little; Love has us'd you kindly.

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

Arc. Do, and spare not!

I'll give you cause, sweet cousin.

Pal. Now to you, sir!

Methinks this armour's very like that, Arcite, Thou wor'st that day the three kings fell, but

lighter.

Pal. Farewell, Arcite!

[Fight. [Horns within they stand. Arc. Lo, cousin, lo! our folly has undone us! Pal. Why?

Arc. This is the duke, a-hunting, as I told you; If we be found, we're wretched! Oh, 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

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!

Pal. Hold thy word, Theseus!
We're 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 Ar-
cite;

A bolder traitor never trod thy ground,

A falser ne'er seem'd friend: this is the man Was begg'd and banish d; this is he contemns

thee,

And what thou dar'st do; and in this disguise,
Against this known 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 call'd 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, The

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 you 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.

Pal. Thou shalt have pity of us both, oh,
Theseus,

If anto neither thou shew 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
Let's die together, at one instant, duke !

memory,

For ere the sun set, both shall sleep for ever.

Hip. 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!

Em. In my face, dear sister,

I find no anger to 'em, nor no ruin;
The misadventure of their own eyes kills 'em:
Yet that I will be woman, and have pity,

My knees shall grow to the ground but I'll get

Emi. By that you would have pity in another, By your own virtues infiniteHip. By valour,

By all the chaste nights I have ever pleas'd you— Thes. These are strange conjurings!

Per. Nay, then I'll in too:

By all our friendship, sir, by all our dangers,

By all you love most, wars, and this sweet lady

Emi. By that you would have trembled to deny, A blushing maid

Hip. By your own eyes, by strength, In which you swore I went beyond all women, Almost all men, and yet I yielded, Theseus— Per. To crown all this, by your most noble soul,

Which cannot want due mercy! I beg first.

Hip. Next, hear my prayers!

Emi. Last, let me entreat, sir!

Per. For mercy!

Hip. Mercy!

Emi. Mercy on these princes!

Thes. You make my faith reel: Say I felt Compassion to 'em both, how would you place it? Emi. Upon their lives; but with their banish

Of both their pardons; for Hippolita,
And fair-ey'd Emily, upon their knees
Begg'd 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 Perithous,

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 Second Friend.

Jailor. Pray Heav'n, it hold so!

Wooer. No, sir; not well: 'Tis too true, she is mad. 1 Friend. It cannot be.

Wooer. Believe, you'll find it so.
Jailor. I half suspected

What you have told me; the gods comfort her!
Either this was her love to Palamon,

Or fear of my miscarrying on his 'scape,

Or both.

Wooer. 'Tis likely.

Jailor. But why all this haste, sir?

Wooer. I'll tell you quickly. As I late was angling

In the great lake that lies behind the palace,

you news,

Good news.

Jailor. They're welcome.

2 Friend. Palamon has clear'd you, And got your pardon, and discover'd how.

And by whose means he 'scap'd, which was your
Daughter's,

Whose pardon is procur'd 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.

Jailor. You're a good man,

And ever bring good news.

1 Friend. How was it ended?

2 Friend. Why, as it should be; they that never begg'd

But they prevail'd, had their suits fairly granted. The prisoners have their lives.

1 Friend. I knew 'twould be so.

2 Friend. But there be new conditions, which you'll hear of

At better time.

Jailor. I hope they're good.

2 Friend. They're honourable; How good they'll prove, I know not. Enter Wooer.

1 Friend. 'Twill be known.

Wooer. Alas, sir, where's your Daughter?
Jailor. Why do you ask?

Wooer. Oh, sir, when did you see her?
2 Friend. How he looks!
Jailor. This morning.

Wooer. Was she well? was she in health, sir? When did she sleep?

1 Friend. These are strange questions. Jailor. I do not think she was very well; for,

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 perceiv'd not
Who made the sound, the rushes and the reeds
Had so encompass'd it: I laid me down
And listen'd to the words she sung; for then,
Through a small glade cut by the fishermen,
I saw it was your Daughter.

Jailor. Pray go on, sir!

Wooer. She sung much, but no sense; only I

heard her

Repeat this often: Palamon is gone,

Is gone to the wood to gather mulberries; I'll find him out to-morrow.'

1 Friend. Pretty soul!

Wooer. His shackles will betray him, he'll be taken;

And what shall I do then? I'll bring a beavy, A hundred black-ey'd maids that love as I do, With chaplets on their heads, of daffadillies, With cherry lips, and cheeks of damask roses, And all we'll dance an antic 'fore the duke, And beg his pardon.' Then she talk'd of you, sir;

That you must lose your head to-morrow-morning, And she must gather flowers to bury you,

And see the house made handsome: Then she sung

Nothing but, Willow, willow, willow;' and be

tween

A wreath of bull-rush rounded; about her stuck
Thousand fresh-water flowers of several colours;
That methought she appear'd like the fair nymph
That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris
Newly dropt 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 loose, not me;' and many a one: And then she wept, and sung again, and sighed, And with the same breath smiled, and kist her

hand.