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Thes. Pray you, kneel not.

I was transported with your speech, and suffer'd Your knees to wrong themselves. I've heard the fortunes

Of your dead lords, which gives me such lamenting
As wakes my vengeance and revenge for them.
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; your wheaten wreath
Was then nor thresh'd, 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 thaw'd: Oh! grief and time,

Fearful consumers, you will all devour!

1 Queen. Oh, I hope some god, Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood, Whereto he'll infuse power, and press you forth Our undertaker!

Thes. Oh, no knees, none, widow ! Unto the helmeted Bellona use them, And pray for me, your soldier.-Troubled I am. [Turns away.

2 Queen. Honoured Hippolita, Most dreaded Amazonian, that has slain The scithe-tusk'd 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'er-flowing, at once sub-
duing

Thy force, and thy affection; soldieress,
That equally canst poise sternness with pity,
Who now, I know, hast much more power on
him

Than e'er he had on thee; who owest his strength,
And his love too, who is a servant to
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 pluck'd off!

Tell him, if he i'the blood-sized field lay swoln, Shewing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, What you would do!

Hip. Poor lady, say no more!

I had as lief trace this good action with you
As that whereto I'm 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.

3 Queen. Oh, my petition was

[Kneels to EMILIA. Set down in ice, which, by hot grief uncandied, Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form, Is pressed with deeper matter. Emi. Pray stand up;

Your grief is written in your cheek.

3 Queen. Oh, woe!

You cannot read it there; here through my tears,
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,
You may behold them! Lady, lady, alack,
He that will all the treasure know o' the 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. Oh, pardon me:
Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,
Makes me a fool.

Emi. 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,

To 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-reffect 'gainst
My brother's heart, and warm it to some pity,
Though it were made of stone: pray have good

comfort!

Thes. Forward to the temple: leave not out a jot

O' the sacred ceremony.

1 Queen. Oh, this celebration

Will longer last, and be more costly than
Your suppliants' war! Remember that your fame
Knolls in the ear o' the world: What you do

quickly

Is not done rashly; your first thought is more Than others' labour'd meditance; your premeditating

More than their actions; but, (oh Jove!) your actions,

Soon as they move, as osprays do the fish, Subdue before they touch: think, dear duke, think

What beds our slain kings have!

2 Queen. What griefs our beds, That our dear lords have none !

3 Queen. None fit for the 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.

1 Queen. But our lords

Lie blistering 'fore the visitating sun,
And were good kings when living.
Thes. It is true;

And I will give you comfort,
To give your dead lords graves:

The which to do must make some work with

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Now 'twill take form; the heats are gone to

morrow;

Then bootless toil must recompence itself,
With its own sweat; now he's secure,
Not dreams we stand before your puissance,
Rinsing your holy begging in our eyes,
To make petition clear.

2 Queen. Now you may take him, Drunk with his victory.

3 Queen. And his army full

Of bread and sloth.

Thes. Artesius, that best knowest
How to draw out, fit to this enterprise
The primest 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 and wedlock!

1 Queen. Dowagers, take hands!
Let us be widows to our woes! Delay
Commends us to a famishing hope.
All. Farewell!

2 Queen. We come unseasonably; but when
could Grief

Cull forth, as unpang'd Judgment can, fit'st time For best solicitation?

Thes. 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.

1 Queen. The more proclaiming
Our suit shall be neglected: When her arms,
Able to lock Jove from a synod, shall

By warranting moon-light corslet thee, oh, when Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou think

Of rotten kings, or blubber'd queens? what care For what thou feel'st not, what thou feel'st being able

To make Mars spurn his drum? Oh, 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.

Hip. 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 med'cine, I should pluck
All ladies' scandal on me: Therefore, sir,
As I shall here make trial of my prayers,
Either presuming them to have some force,
Or sentencing for ay 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.

All Queens. Oh, help now!

Our cause cries for your knee.
Emi. If you grant not

Ty 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 any thing, nor be so hardy
Ever to take a husband.

Thes. Pray stand up;

I am entreating of myself to do

That which you kneel to have me. Perithous,
Lead on the bride! Get you, and pray the gods
For success and return; omit not any thing
In the pretended celebration. Queens,
Follow your soldier (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 look'd.-Since that our theme is
haste,

I stamp this kiss upon thy currant lip;
Sweet, keep it as my token. Set you forward;
For I will see you gone.

[Exeunt towards the Temple.
Farewell, my beauteous sister! Perithous,
Keep the feast full; bate not an hour on't!
Per. Sir,

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

Thes. 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! 1 Queen. Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o' the world.

2 Queen. And earn'st a deity equal with Mars. 3 Queen. If not above him; for,

Thou being but mortal, mak'st affections bend To godlike honours; they themselves, some say, Groan under such a mastery.

Thes. As we are men,

Thus should we do; being sensually subdued, We lose our humane title. Good cheer, ladies! [Flourish. Now turn we towards your comforts. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter PALAMON and ARCITE.

Arc. Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood,
And our prime cousin, yet unharden'd 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' the head o' the 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.

Pal. 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' the martialist, who did propound To his bold ends, honour, and golden ingots,

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To Mars' 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.

Arc. 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' unconsider'd soldier?

Pul, 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.

Arc. '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 even jump
As they are, here were to be strangers, and
Such things to be mere monsters.

Pal. It is 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 follow'd make pursuit? Or let me know,
Why mine own barber is unbless'd, with him
My poor chin too, for 'tis not scissar'd 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 tip-toe
Before the street be foul? Either I am
The fore-horse in the team, or I am none
That draw i'the sequent trace. These poor slight

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I think the echoes of his shames have deaf'd The ears of heavenly justice: widows' cries Descend again into their throats, and have not Due audience of the gods.-Valerius !

Enter VALERIUS.

Val. The king calls for you; yet be leaden.
footed,

Till his great rage be off him! Phœbus, when
He broke his whipstock, and exclaim'd against
The horses of the sun, but whisper'd, to
The loudness of his fury.

Pal. Small winds shake him;

But what's the matter?

Val. Theseus (who where he threats appals)
hath sent

Deadly defiance to him, and pronounces
Ruin to Thebes; who is at hand to seal
The promise of his wrath.

Arc. Let him approach!

But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not
A jot of terror to us: yet what man
Thirds his own worth (the case is each of ours)
When that his action's dregg'd with mind assured
'Tis bad he goes about?

Pal. Leave that unreason'd:

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.

Arc, So we must.

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Excess and overflow of power, an't might be, To cure ill-dealing fortune. Speed to him! Store never hurts good governors.

Per. Though I know

His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they
Must yield their tribute there. My precious maid,
Those best affections that the heav'ns infuse
In their best-temper'd pieces, keep enthroned
In your dear heart!

Emi. 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.

Hip. 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 broach'd 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 for ever.

Per. Peace be to you,

As I pursue this war! which shall be then Beyond further requiring.

Emi. How his longing

[Exit.

Follows his friend! Since his depart, his sports,
Though craving seriousness and skill, past slightly
His careless execution, where nor gain
Made him regard, or loss consider; but
Playing o'er business in his hand, another
Directing in his head, his mind nurse equal

To these so diff'ring twins. Have you observed him,

Since our great lord departed?

Hip. With much labour,

And I did love him for't. They two have cabin'd
In many as dangerous, as poor a corner,
Peril and want contending, they have skift
Torrents, whose roaring tyranny and power
I' th' least of these was dreadful; and they have
Fought out together, where death's self was lodg'd,
Yet fate bath 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 out-worn, never undone. I think
Theseus cannot be umpire to himself,
Cleaving his conscience into twain, and doing
Each side like justice, which he loves best.
Emi. Doubtless,

There is a best, and reason has no manners
To say it is not you. I was acquainted

Once with a time, when I enjoy'd a playfellow;
You were at wars when she the grave enrich'd,
Who made too proud the bed, took leave o' the

moon

(Which then look'd pale at parting) when our

count

Was each eleven.

Hip. 'Twas Flavina.

Emi. Yes.

You talk of Perithous' and Theseus' love:

Theirs has more ground, is more maturely season'd,

More buckled with strong judgment, 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 inno-

cent,

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, condemn'd,
No more arraignment; the flower that I would
pluck

And put between my breasts, (oh, then but beginning

To swell about the blossom) she would long
Till she had such another, and commit it
To the like innocent cradle, where phoenix-like
They died in perfume; on my head no toy
But was her pattern; her affections (pretty,
Though happily her careless wear) I follow'd
For my most serious decking; had mine ear
Stolen some new air, or at adventure humm'd 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 surely innocence wots well) comes in
Like old importment's bastard; has this end,
That the true love 'tween maid and maid may be
More than in sex dividual.

Hip. 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 call'd man.

Emi. I am sure I shall not.

Hip. Now, alack, weak sister,

I must no more believe thee in this point
(Though in't I know thou dost believe thyself)
Than I will trust a sickly appetite,
That loaths 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 Perithous, possess
The high throne in his heart.

Emi. I am not

Against your faith; yet I continue mine. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Battle struck within; then a Retreat; flourish. Then enter THESEUS (victor;) the three Queens meet him, and fall on their faces before him.

1 Queen. To thee no star be dark! 2 Queen. Both heav'n and earth 'Friend thee for ever!

3 Queen. All the good that may

Be wish'd upon thy head, I cry amen to't! Thes. Th' impartial gods, who from the mounted heav'n's

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 ev'n each thing
Our haste does leave imperfect: So adieu,
And heaven's good eyes look on you!-What
are those?
[Exeunt Queens.
Herald. Men of great quality, as may be judged
By their appointment; some of Thebes have told's
They're sister's children, nephews to the king.
Thes. By th' helm of Mars, I saw them in the

war,

Like to a pair of lions, succour'd with prey, Make lanes in troops aghast: I fix'd 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?

Herald. 'With leave, they're called

Arcite and Palamon.

Thes. 'Tis right; those, those.

They are not dead?

Herald. Nor in a state of life: Had they been taken

When their last hurts were given, 'twas possible They might have been recover'd; yet they breathe, And have the name of men.

Thes. Then like men use 'em!
The very lees of such, millions of rates,
Exceed the wine of others. All our surgeons
Convent in their behoof; our richest 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 thousand fold, we'd 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' be-
hests,

Loves' provocations, zeal, a mistress' task,
Desire of liberty, a fever, madness,
Sickness in will, or wrestling strength in reason;
'Thath set a mark which nature could not reach to
Without some imposition. For our love,
And great Apollo's mercy, all our best
Their best skill tender! Lead into the city:
Where having bound things scatter'd, we will
post

To Athens 'fore our army.

SCENE V.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Queens with the hearses of their Knights, in a funeral solemnity, &c.

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 fill'd with tears,

And clamours, through the wild air flying;
Come, all sad and solemn shows,
That are quick-eyed pleasure's foes!
We convent nought else but woes.
We convent, &c.

3 Queen. This funeral path brings to your house. hold graves:

Joy seize on you again! Peace sleep with him! 2 Queen. And this to yours!

1 Queen. Yours this way! Heavens lend A thousand different ways to one sure end.

3 Queen. This world's a city full of straying streets;

And death's the market-place, where each one [Exeunt severally,

meets.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter Jailor and Wooer.

Jailor. 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 o' 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 deliver'd to be! Marry, what
I have (be't what it will) I will assure
Upon my daughter at the day o' my death,
Wooer. Sir, I demand no more than your own
offer;

And I'll estate your daughter, in what I
Have promised.

Jailor. Well, we'll talk more of this,
When the solemnity is past. But have you

A full promise of her? When that shall be seen, Enter Daughter.

I tender my consent.

Wooer. I have, sir. Here she comes.

Jailor. Your friend and I have chanced to name

you here,

On the old business: But no more o' that now. So soon as the court-hurry is o'er, we'll have An end of't: I' the mean time, look tenderly To the two prisoners: I can tell you they're princes.

Daugh. These strewings are for their chamber. It is 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 them; and they have all the world in their
chamber.

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