ACT ISCENE I. Athens. Before a templeEnterHymenwith a torch burning; aBoy,in a white robe before singing, and strewing flowers. After Hymen, aNymphencompassed in her tresses, bearing a wheaten garland; thenTheseusbetween two other Nymphs with wheaten chaplets on their heads. ThenHippolyta,the bride, led byPirithous,and another holding a garland over her head, her tresses likewise hanging. After her,Emilia,holding up her train. ThenArtesiusand Attendants.[Music.]The SongRoses, 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;[Strews flowers.]All dear Nature’s children sweetLie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet,Blessing their sense.Not an angel of the air,Bird melodious or bird fair,Is absent hence.The crow, the sland’rous cuckoo, norThe boding raven, nor chough hoar,Nor chatt’ring ’pie,May on our bride-house perch or sing,Or with them any discord bring,But from it fly.Enter threeQueensin black, with veils stained, with imperial crowns. The first Queen falls down at the foot ofTheseus;the second falls down at the foot ofHippolyta;the third beforeEmilia.FIRST QUEEN.For pity’s sake and true gentility’s,Hear and respect me.SECOND QUEEN.For your mother’s sake,And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,Hear and respect me.THIRD QUEEN.Now, for the love of him whom Jove hath markedThe honour of your bed, and for the sakeOf clear virginity, be advocateFor us and our distresses. This good deedShall raze you out o’ th’ book of trespassesAll you are set down there.THESEUS.Sad lady, rise.HIPPOLYTA.Stand up.EMILIA.No knees to me.What woman I may stead that is distressed,Does bind me to her.THESEUS.What’s your request? Deliver you for all.FIRST QUEEN.We are three queens whose sovereigns fell beforeThe wrath of cruel Creon, who endureThe 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’ offenceOf mortal loathsomeness from the blest eyeOf holy Phœbus, but infects the windsWith stench of our slain lords. O, pity, Duke!Thou purger of the earth, draw thy feared swordThat does good turns to th’ world; give us the bonesOf our dead kings, that we may chapel them;And of thy boundless goodness take some noteThat for our crowned heads we have no roofSave this, which is the lion’s and the bear’s,And vault to everything.THESEUS.Pray you, kneel not.I was transported with your speech and sufferedYour knees to wrong themselves. I have heard the fortunesOf your dead lords, which gives me such lamentingAs wakes my vengeance and revenge for ’em.King Capaneus was your lord. The dayThat he should marry you, at such a seasonAs now it is with me, I met your groomBy Mars’s altar. You were that time fair!Not Juno’s mantle fairer than your tresses,Nor in more bounty spread her. Your wheaten wreathWas then nor threshed nor blasted. Fortune at youDimpled her cheek with smiles. Hercules, our kinsman,Then weaker than your eyes, laid by his club;He tumbled down upon his Nemean hideAnd swore his sinews thawed. O grief and time,Fearful consumers, you will all devour!FIRST QUEEN.O, I hope some god,Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood,Whereto he’ll infuse power, and press you forthOur undertaker.THESEUS.O, no knees, none, widow!Unto the helmeted Bellona use them,And pray for me, your soldier.Troubled I am.[Turns away.]SECOND QUEEN.Honoured Hippolyta,Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slainThe scythe-tusked boar; that with thy arm, as strongAs it is white, wast near to make the maleTo thy sex captive, but that this thy lord,Born to uphold creation in that honourFirst nature styled it in, shrunk thee intoThe bound thou wast o’erflowing, at once subduingThy force and thy affection; soldieressThat equally canst poise sternness with pity,Whom now I know hast much more power on himThan ever he had on thee, who ow’st his strengthAnd his love too, who is a servant forThe 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 womanAs any of us three; weep ere you fail.Lend us a knee;But touch the ground for us no longer timeThan a dove’s motion when the head’s plucked off.Tell him if he i’ th’ blood-sized field lay swollen,Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon,What you would do.HIPPOLYTA.Poor lady, say no more.I had as lief trace this good action with youAs that whereto I am going, and never yetWent I so willing way. My lord is takenHeart-deep with your distress. Let him consider;I’ll speak anon.THIRD QUEEN.O, my petition wasSet down in ice, which by hot grief uncandiedMelts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form,Is pressed with deeper matter.EMILIA.Pray, stand up;Your grief is written in your cheek.THIRD QUEEN.O, woe!You cannot read it there. There through my tears,Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,You may behold ’em. Lady, lady, alack!He that will all the treasure know o’ th’ earthMust know the center too; he that will fishFor my least minnow, let him lead his lineTo catch one at my heart. O, pardon me!Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,Makes me a fool.EMILIA.Pray you say nothing, pray you.Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in ’t,Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you wereThe ground-piece of some painter, I would buy youT’ instruct me ’gainst a capital grief, indeedSuch heart-pierced demonstration. But, alas,Being a natural sister of our sex,Your sorrow beats so ardently upon meThat it shall make a counter-reflect ’gainstMy brother’s heart and warm it to some pity,Though it were made of stone. Pray have good comfort.THESEUS.Forward to th’ temple! Leave not out a jotO’ th’ sacred ceremony.FIRST QUEEN.O, this celebrationWill longer last and be more costly thanYour suppliants’ war! Remember that your fameKnolls in the ear o’ th’ world; what you do quicklyIs not done rashly; your first thought is moreThan others’ laboured meditance, your premeditatingMore than their actions. But, O Jove, your actions,Soon as they move, as ospreys do the fish,Subdue before they touch. Think, dear Duke, thinkWhat beds our slain kings have!SECOND QUEEN.What griefs our beds,That our dear lords have none!THIRD QUEEN.None fit for th’ dead.Those that with cords, knives, drams, precipitance,Weary of this world’s light, have to themselvesBeen death’s most horrid agents, human graceAffords them dust and shadow.FIRST QUEEN.But our lordsLie blist’ring ’fore the visitating sun,And were good kings when living.THESEUS.It is true, and I will give you comfortTo give your dead lords graves;The which to do must make some work with Creon.FIRST QUEEN.And that work presents itself to th’ doing.Now ’twill take form; the heats are gone tomorrow.Then, bootless toil must recompense itselfWith its own sweat. Now he’s secure,Not dreams we stand before your puissance,Rinsing our holy begging in our eyesTo make petition clear.SECOND QUEEN.Now you may take him, drunk with his victory.THIRD QUEEN.And his army full of bread and sloth.THESEUS.Artesius, that best knowestHow to draw out fit to this enterpriseThe prim’st for this proceeding, and the numberTo carry such a business: forth and levyOur worthiest instruments, whilst we dispatchThis grand act of our life, this daring deedOf fate in wedlock.FIRST QUEEN.Dowagers, take hands.Let us be widows to our woes; delayCommends us to a famishing hope.ALL THE QUEENS.Farewell!SECOND QUEEN.We come unseasonably; but when could griefCull forth, as unpanged judgement can, fitt’st timeFor best solicitation?THESEUS.Why, good ladies,This is a service, whereto I am going,Greater than any war; it more imports meThan all the actions that I have foregone,Or futurely can cope.FIRST QUEEN.The more proclaimingOur suit shall be neglected when her arms,Able to lock Jove from a synod, shallBy warranting moonlight corselet thee. O, whenHer twinning cherries shall their sweetness fallUpon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou thinkOf rotten kings or blubbered queens? What careFor what thou feel’st not, what thou feel’st being ableTo make Mars spurn his drum? O, if thou couchBut one night with her, every hour in ’t willTake hostage of thee for a hundred, andThou shalt remember nothing more than whatThat banquet bids thee to.HIPPOLYTA.Though much unlikeYou should be so transported, as much sorryI should be such a suitor, yet I think,Did I not, by th’ abstaining of my joy,Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeitThat craves a present med’cine, I should pluckAll ladies’ scandal on me. Therefore, sir,[She kneels.]As I shall here make trial of my prayers,Either presuming them to have some force,Or sentencing for aye their vigor dumb,Prorogue this business we are going about, and hangYour shield afore your heart, about that neckWhich is my fee, and which I freely lendTo do these poor queens service.ALL QUEENS.[To Emilia.] O, help now!Our cause cries for your knee.EMILIA.[To Theseus, kneeling.] If you grant notMy sister her petition in that force,With that celerity and nature, whichShe makes it in, from henceforth I’ll not dareTo ask you anything, nor be so hardyEver to take a husband.THESEUS.Pray stand up.I am entreating of myself to do[They rise.]That which you kneel to have me.—Pirithous,Lead on the bride; get you and pray the godsFor success and return; omit not anythingIn the pretended celebration.—Queens,Follow your soldier. [To Artesius.] As before, hence you,And at the banks of Aulis meet us withThe forces you can raise, where we shall findThe moiety of a number for a businessMore bigger looked.[ExitArtesius.][To Hippolyta.] 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.[The wedding procession moves towards the temple.]Farewell, my beauteous sister.—Pirithous,Keep the feast full; bate not an hour on ’t.PIRITHOUS.Sir,I’ll follow you at heels. The feast’s solemnityShall want till your return.THESEUS.Cousin, I charge you,Budge not from Athens. We shall be returningEre you can end this feast, of which I pray youMake no abatement. Once more, farewell all.[Exeunt all butTheseusand theQueens.]FIRST QUEEN.Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o’ th’ world.SECOND QUEEN.And earn’st a deity equal with Mars.THIRD QUEEN.If not above him, forThou, being but mortal, mak’st affections bendTo godlike honours; they themselves, some say,Groan under such a mast’ry.THESEUS.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.]SCENE II. Thebes. The Court of the PalaceEnterPalamonandArcite.ARCITE.Dear Palamon, dearer in love than bloodAnd our prime cousin, yet unhardened inThe crimes of nature, let us leave the cityThebes, and the temptings in ’t, before we furtherSully our gloss of youthAnd here to keep in abstinence we shameAs in incontinence; for not to swimI’ th’ aid o’ th’ current, were almost to sink,At least to frustrate striving; and to followThe common stream, ’twould bring us to an eddyWhere we should turn or drown; if labour through,Our gain but life and weakness.PALAMON.Your adviceIs cried up with example. What strange ruins,Since first we went to school, may we perceiveWalking in Thebes! Scars and bare weedsThe gain o’ th’ martialist, who did propoundTo his bold ends honour and golden ingots,Which, though he won, he had not, and now flirtedBy peace for whom he fought! Who then shall offerTo Mars’s so-scorned altar? I do bleedWhen such I meet, and wish great Juno wouldResume her ancient fit of jealousyTo get the soldier work, that peace might purgeFor her repletion, and retain anewHer charitable heart, now hard and harsherThan strife or war could be.ARCITE.Are you not out?Meet you no ruin but the soldier inThe cranks and turns of Thebes? You did beginAs if you met decays of many kinds.Perceive you none that do arouse your pityBut th’ unconsidered soldier?PALAMON.Yes, I pityDecays where’er I find them, but such mostThat, sweating in an honourable toil,Are paid with ice to cool ’em.ARCITE.’Tis not thisI did begin to speak of. This is virtueOf no respect in Thebes. I spake of Thebes,How dangerous, if we will keep our honours,It is for our residing, where every evilHath a good colour; where every seeming good’sA certain evil; where not to be e’en jumpAs they are here were to be strangers, and,Such things to be, mere monsters.PALAMON.’Tis in our power—Unless we fear that apes can tutor ’s—toBe masters of our manners. What need IAffect another’s gait, which is not catchingWhere there is faith? Or to be fond uponAnother’s way of speech, when by mine ownI may be reasonably conceived, saved too,Speaking it truly? Why am I boundBy any generous bond to follow himFollows his tailor, haply so long untilThe followed make pursuit? Or let me knowWhy mine own barber is unblessed, with himMy poor chin too, for ’tis not scissored justTo such a favourite’s glass? What canon is thereThat does command my rapier from my hipTo dangle ’t in my hand, or to go tiptoeBefore the street be foul? Either I amThe fore-horse in the team, or I am noneThat draw i’ th’ sequent trace. These poor slight soresNeed not a plantain; that which rips my bosomAlmost to th’ heart’s—ARCITE.Our uncle Creon.PALAMON.He.A most unbounded tyrant, whose successesMakes heaven unfeared and villainy assuredBeyond its power there’s nothing; almost putsFaith in a fever, and deifies aloneVoluble chance; who only attributesThe faculties of other instrumentsTo his own nerves and act; commands men service,And what they win in ’t, boot and glory; oneThat fears not to do harm; good, dares not. LetThe blood of mine that’s sib to him be suckedFrom me with leeches; let them break and fallOff me with that corruption.ARCITE.Clear-spirited cousin,Let’s leave his court, that we may nothing shareOf his loud infamy; for our milkWill relish of the pasture, and we mustBe vile or disobedient; not his kinsmenIn blood unless in quality.PALAMON.Nothing truer.I think the echoes of his shames have deafedThe ears of heavenly justice. Widows’ criesDescend again into their throats and have notDue audience of the gods.EnterValerius.Valerius!VALERIUS.The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footedTill his great rage be off him. Phœbus, whenHe broke his whipstock and exclaimed againstThe horses of the sun, but whispered toThe loudness of his fury.PALAMON.Small winds shake him.But what’s the matter?VALERIUS.Theseus, who where he threats appalls, hath sentDeadly defiance to him and pronouncesRuin to Thebes, who is at hand to sealThe promise of his wrath.ARCITE.Let him approach.But that we fear the gods in him, he brings notA jot of terror to us. Yet what manThirds his own worth—the case is each of ours—When that his action’s dregged with mind assured’Tis bad he goes about?PALAMON.Leave that unreasoned.Our services stand now for Thebes, not Creon.Yet to be neutral to him were dishonour,Rebellious to oppose; therefore we mustWith him stand to the mercy of our fate,Who hath bounded our last minute.ARCITE.So we must.[To Valerius.] Is ’t said this war’s afoot? Or, it shall be,On fail of some condition?VALERIUS.’Tis in motion;The intelligence of state came in the instantWith the defier.PALAMON.Let’s to the King; who, were heA quarter carrier of that honour whichHis enemy come in, the blood we ventureShould be as for our health, which were not spent,Rather laid out for purchase. But alas,Our hands advanced before our hearts, what willThe fall o’ th’ stroke do damage?ARCITE.Let th’ event,That never-erring arbitrator, tell usWhen we know all ourselves; and let us followThe becking of our chance.[Exeunt.]SCENE III. Before the gates of AthensEnterPirithous, HippolytaandEmilia.PIRITHOUS.No further.HIPPOLYTA.Sir, farewell. Repeat my wishesTo our great lord, of whose success I dare notMake any timorous question; yet I wish himExcess and overflow of power, an ’t might be,To dure ill-dealing fortune. Speed to him!Store never hurts good governors.PIRITHOUS.Though I knowHis ocean needs not my poor drops, yet theyMust yield their tribute there. My precious maid,Those best affections that the heavens infuseIn their best-tempered pieces keep enthronedIn your dear heart!EMILIA.Thanks, sir. Remember meTo our all-royal brother, for whose speedThe great Bellona I’ll solicit; andSince in our terrene state petitions are notWithout gifts understood, I’ll offer to herWhat I shall be advised she likes. Our heartsAre in his army, in his tent.HIPPOLYTA.In ’s bosom.We have been soldiers, and we cannot weepWhen our friends don their helms, or put to sea,Or tell of babes broached on the lance, or womenThat have sod their infants in—and after eat them—The brine they wept at killing ’em. Then ifYou stay to see of us such spinsters, weShould hold you here for ever.PIRITHOUS.Peace be to youAs I pursue this war, which shall be thenBeyond further requiring.[ExitPirithous.]EMILIA.How his longingFollows his friend! Since his depart, his sports,Though craving seriousness and skill, passed slightlyHis careless execution, where nor gainMade him regard, or loss consider, butPlaying one business in his hand, anotherDirecting in his head, his mind nurse equalTo these so differing twins. Have you observed himSince our great lord departed?HIPPOLYTA.With much labour,And I did love him for ’t. They two have cabinedIn many as dangerous as poor a corner,Peril and want contending; they have skiffedTorrents whose roaring tyranny and powerI’ th’ least of these was dreadful; and they haveFought 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 thinkTheseus cannot be umpire to himself,Cleaving his conscience into twain and doingEach side like justice, which he loves best.EMILIA.DoubtlessThere is a best, and reason has no mannersTo say it is not you. I was acquaintedOnce 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’ moonWhich then looked pale at parting, when our countWas each eleven.HIPPOLYTA.’Twas Flavina.EMILIA.Yes.You talk of Pirithous’ and Theseus’ love.Theirs has more ground, is more maturely seasoned,More buckled with strong judgement, and their needsThe one of th’ other may be said to waterTheir intertangled roots of love; but I,And she I sigh and spoke of, were things innocent,Loved for we did, and like the elementsThat know not what nor why, yet do effectRare issues by their operance, our soulsDid so to one another. What she likedWas then of me approved, what not, condemned,No more arraignment. The flower that I would pluckAnd put between my breasts, O, then but beginningTo swell about the blossom—she would longTill she had such another, and commit itTo the like innocent cradle, where, phœnix-like,They died in perfume. On my head no toyBut was her pattern; her affections—pretty,Though haply her careless wear—I followedFor my most serious decking; had mine earStol’n some new air, or at adventure hummed oneFrom musical coinage, why, it was a noteWhereon her spirits would sojourn—rather, dwell on,And sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsal,Which fury-innocent wots well, comes inLike old importment’s bastard—has this end,That the true love ’tween maid and maid may beMore than in sex individual.HIPPOLYTA.You’re out of breath;And this high-speeded pace is but to sayThat you shall never, like the maid Flavina,Love any that’s called man.EMILIA.I am sure I shall not.HIPPOLYTA.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, youHave said enough to shake me from the armOf the all-noble Theseus; for whose fortunesI will now in and kneel, with great assuranceThat we, more than his Pirithous, possessThe high throne in his heart.EMILIA.I am notAgainst your faith, yet I continue mine.[Exeunt.]SCENE IV. A field before Thebes.Cornets. A battle struck within; then a retreat. Flourish. Then enter,Theseus,as victor, with aHerald,other Lords, and Soldiers. The threeQueensmeet him and fall on their faces before him.FIRST QUEEN.To thee no star be dark!SECOND QUEEN.Both heaven and earthFriend thee for ever!THIRD QUEEN.All the good that mayBe wished upon thy head, I cry “Amen” to ’t!THESEUS.Th’ impartial gods, who from the mounted heavensView us their mortal herd, behold who errAnd, in their time, chastise. Go and find outThe bones of your dead lords and honour themWith treble ceremony, rather than a gapShould be in their dear rites, we would supply ’t,But those we will depute which shall investYou in your dignities and even each thingOur haste does leave imperfect. So, adieu,And heaven’s good eyes look on you.[Exeunt Queens.]Enter aHeraldand Soldiers bearingPalamonandArciteon hearses.What are those?HERALD.Men of great quality, as may be judgedBy their appointment. Some of Thebes have told ’sThey are sisters’ children, nephews to the King.THESEUS.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 noteConstantly on them, for they were a markWorth a god’s view. What prisoner was ’t that told meWhen I enquired their names?HERALD.Wi’ leave, they’re called Arcite and Palamon.THESEUS.’Tis right; those, those. They are not dead?HERALD.Nor in a state of life. Had they been takenWhen their last hurts were given, ’twas possibleThey might have been recovered; yet they breatheAnd have the name of men.THESEUS.Then like men use ’em.The very lees of such, millions of rates,Exceed the wine of others. All our surgeonsConvent in their behoof; our richest balms,Rather than niggard, waste. Their lives concern usMuch more than Thebes is worth. Rather than have ’emFreed of this plight, and in their morning state,Sound and at liberty, I would ’em dead;But forty-thousandfold we had rather have ’emPrisoners to us than death. Bear ’em speedilyFrom our kind air, to them unkind, and ministerWhat 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 toWithout some imposition, sickness in willO’er-wrestling strength in reason. For our loveAnd great Apollo’s mercy, all our bestTheir best skill tender. Lead into the city,Where, having bound things scattered, we will postTo Athens ’fore our army.[Flourish. Exeunt.]SCENE V. Another part of the same, more remote from ThebesMusic. Enter theQueenswith the hearses of their knights, in a funeral solemnity, &c.SONG.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 showsThat are quick-eyed Pleasure’s foes;We convent naught else but woes.We convent naught else but woes.THIRD QUEEN.This funeral path brings to your household’s grave.Joy seize on you again; peace sleep with him.SECOND QUEEN.And this to yours.FIRST QUEEN.Yours this way. Heavens lendA thousand differing ways to one sure end.THIRD QUEEN.This world’s a city full of straying streets,And death’s the market-place where each one meets.[Exeunt severally.]
EnterHymenwith a torch burning; aBoy,in a white robe before singing, and strewing flowers. After Hymen, aNymphencompassed in her tresses, bearing a wheaten garland; thenTheseusbetween two other Nymphs with wheaten chaplets on their heads. ThenHippolyta,the bride, led byPirithous,and another holding a garland over her head, her tresses likewise hanging. After her,Emilia,holding up her train. ThenArtesiusand Attendants.
[Music.]
The Song
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;
[Strews flowers.]
All dear Nature’s children sweetLie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet,Blessing their sense.Not an angel of the air,Bird melodious or bird fair,Is absent hence.
The crow, the sland’rous cuckoo, norThe boding raven, nor chough hoar,Nor chatt’ring ’pie,May on our bride-house perch or sing,Or with them any discord bring,But from it fly.
Enter threeQueensin black, with veils stained, with imperial crowns. The first Queen falls down at the foot ofTheseus;the second falls down at the foot ofHippolyta;the third beforeEmilia.
FIRST QUEEN.For pity’s sake and true gentility’s,Hear and respect me.
SECOND QUEEN.For your mother’s sake,And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,Hear and respect me.
THIRD QUEEN.Now, for the love of him whom Jove hath markedThe honour of your bed, and for the sakeOf clear virginity, be advocateFor us and our distresses. This good deedShall raze you out o’ th’ book of trespassesAll you are set down there.
THESEUS.Sad lady, rise.
HIPPOLYTA.Stand up.
EMILIA.No knees to me.What woman I may stead that is distressed,Does bind me to her.
THESEUS.What’s your request? Deliver you for all.
FIRST QUEEN.We are three queens whose sovereigns fell beforeThe wrath of cruel Creon, who endureThe 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’ offenceOf mortal loathsomeness from the blest eyeOf holy Phœbus, but infects the windsWith stench of our slain lords. O, pity, Duke!Thou purger of the earth, draw thy feared swordThat does good turns to th’ world; give us the bonesOf our dead kings, that we may chapel them;And of thy boundless goodness take some noteThat for our crowned heads we have no roofSave this, which is the lion’s and the bear’s,And vault to everything.
THESEUS.Pray you, kneel not.I was transported with your speech and sufferedYour knees to wrong themselves. I have heard the fortunesOf your dead lords, which gives me such lamentingAs wakes my vengeance and revenge for ’em.King Capaneus was your lord. The dayThat he should marry you, at such a seasonAs now it is with me, I met your groomBy Mars’s altar. You were that time fair!Not Juno’s mantle fairer than your tresses,Nor in more bounty spread her. Your wheaten wreathWas then nor threshed nor blasted. Fortune at youDimpled her cheek with smiles. Hercules, our kinsman,Then weaker than your eyes, laid by his club;He tumbled down upon his Nemean hideAnd swore his sinews thawed. O grief and time,Fearful consumers, you will all devour!
FIRST QUEEN.O, I hope some god,Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood,Whereto he’ll infuse power, and press you forthOur undertaker.
THESEUS.O, no knees, none, widow!Unto the helmeted Bellona use them,And pray for me, your soldier.Troubled I am.
[Turns away.]
SECOND QUEEN.Honoured Hippolyta,Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slainThe scythe-tusked boar; that with thy arm, as strongAs it is white, wast near to make the maleTo thy sex captive, but that this thy lord,Born to uphold creation in that honourFirst nature styled it in, shrunk thee intoThe bound thou wast o’erflowing, at once subduingThy force and thy affection; soldieressThat equally canst poise sternness with pity,Whom now I know hast much more power on himThan ever he had on thee, who ow’st his strengthAnd his love too, who is a servant forThe 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 womanAs any of us three; weep ere you fail.Lend us a knee;But touch the ground for us no longer timeThan a dove’s motion when the head’s plucked off.Tell him if he i’ th’ blood-sized field lay swollen,Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon,What you would do.
HIPPOLYTA.Poor lady, say no more.I had as lief trace this good action with youAs that whereto I am going, and never yetWent I so willing way. My lord is takenHeart-deep with your distress. Let him consider;I’ll speak anon.
THIRD QUEEN.O, my petition wasSet down in ice, which by hot grief uncandiedMelts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form,Is pressed with deeper matter.
EMILIA.Pray, stand up;Your grief is written in your cheek.
THIRD QUEEN.O, woe!You cannot read it there. There through my tears,Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,You may behold ’em. Lady, lady, alack!He that will all the treasure know o’ th’ earthMust know the center too; he that will fishFor my least minnow, let him lead his lineTo catch one at my heart. O, pardon me!Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,Makes me a fool.
EMILIA.Pray you say nothing, pray you.Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in ’t,Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you wereThe ground-piece of some painter, I would buy youT’ instruct me ’gainst a capital grief, indeedSuch heart-pierced demonstration. But, alas,Being a natural sister of our sex,Your sorrow beats so ardently upon meThat it shall make a counter-reflect ’gainstMy brother’s heart and warm it to some pity,Though it were made of stone. Pray have good comfort.
THESEUS.Forward to th’ temple! Leave not out a jotO’ th’ sacred ceremony.
FIRST QUEEN.O, this celebrationWill longer last and be more costly thanYour suppliants’ war! Remember that your fameKnolls in the ear o’ th’ world; what you do quicklyIs not done rashly; your first thought is moreThan others’ laboured meditance, your premeditatingMore than their actions. But, O Jove, your actions,Soon as they move, as ospreys do the fish,Subdue before they touch. Think, dear Duke, thinkWhat beds our slain kings have!
SECOND QUEEN.What griefs our beds,That our dear lords have none!
THIRD QUEEN.None fit for th’ dead.Those that with cords, knives, drams, precipitance,Weary of this world’s light, have to themselvesBeen death’s most horrid agents, human graceAffords them dust and shadow.
FIRST QUEEN.But our lordsLie blist’ring ’fore the visitating sun,And were good kings when living.
THESEUS.It is true, and I will give you comfortTo give your dead lords graves;The which to do must make some work with Creon.
FIRST QUEEN.And that work presents itself to th’ doing.Now ’twill take form; the heats are gone tomorrow.Then, bootless toil must recompense itselfWith its own sweat. Now he’s secure,Not dreams we stand before your puissance,Rinsing our holy begging in our eyesTo make petition clear.
SECOND QUEEN.Now you may take him, drunk with his victory.
THIRD QUEEN.And his army full of bread and sloth.
THESEUS.Artesius, that best knowestHow to draw out fit to this enterpriseThe prim’st for this proceeding, and the numberTo carry such a business: forth and levyOur worthiest instruments, whilst we dispatchThis grand act of our life, this daring deedOf fate in wedlock.
FIRST QUEEN.Dowagers, take hands.Let us be widows to our woes; delayCommends us to a famishing hope.
ALL THE QUEENS.Farewell!
SECOND QUEEN.We come unseasonably; but when could griefCull forth, as unpanged judgement can, fitt’st timeFor best solicitation?
THESEUS.Why, good ladies,This is a service, whereto I am going,Greater than any war; it more imports meThan all the actions that I have foregone,Or futurely can cope.
FIRST QUEEN.The more proclaimingOur suit shall be neglected when her arms,Able to lock Jove from a synod, shallBy warranting moonlight corselet thee. O, whenHer twinning cherries shall their sweetness fallUpon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou thinkOf rotten kings or blubbered queens? What careFor what thou feel’st not, what thou feel’st being ableTo make Mars spurn his drum? O, if thou couchBut one night with her, every hour in ’t willTake hostage of thee for a hundred, andThou shalt remember nothing more than whatThat banquet bids thee to.
HIPPOLYTA.Though much unlikeYou should be so transported, as much sorryI should be such a suitor, yet I think,Did I not, by th’ abstaining of my joy,Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeitThat craves a present med’cine, I should pluckAll ladies’ scandal on me. Therefore, sir,
[She kneels.]
As I shall here make trial of my prayers,Either presuming them to have some force,Or sentencing for aye their vigor dumb,Prorogue this business we are going about, and hangYour shield afore your heart, about that neckWhich is my fee, and which I freely lendTo do these poor queens service.
ALL QUEENS.[To Emilia.] O, help now!Our cause cries for your knee.
EMILIA.[To Theseus, kneeling.] If you grant notMy sister her petition in that force,With that celerity and nature, whichShe makes it in, from henceforth I’ll not dareTo ask you anything, nor be so hardyEver to take a husband.
THESEUS.Pray stand up.I am entreating of myself to do
[They rise.]
That which you kneel to have me.—Pirithous,Lead on the bride; get you and pray the godsFor success and return; omit not anythingIn the pretended celebration.—Queens,Follow your soldier. [To Artesius.] As before, hence you,And at the banks of Aulis meet us withThe forces you can raise, where we shall findThe moiety of a number for a businessMore bigger looked.
[ExitArtesius.]
[To Hippolyta.] 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.
[The wedding procession moves towards the temple.]
Farewell, my beauteous sister.—Pirithous,Keep the feast full; bate not an hour on ’t.
PIRITHOUS.Sir,I’ll follow you at heels. The feast’s solemnityShall want till your return.
THESEUS.Cousin, I charge you,Budge not from Athens. We shall be returningEre you can end this feast, of which I pray youMake no abatement. Once more, farewell all.
[Exeunt all butTheseusand theQueens.]
FIRST QUEEN.Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o’ th’ world.
SECOND QUEEN.And earn’st a deity equal with Mars.
THIRD QUEEN.If not above him, forThou, being but mortal, mak’st affections bendTo godlike honours; they themselves, some say,Groan under such a mast’ry.
THESEUS.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.]
EnterPalamonandArcite.
ARCITE.Dear Palamon, dearer in love than bloodAnd our prime cousin, yet unhardened inThe crimes of nature, let us leave the cityThebes, and the temptings in ’t, before we furtherSully our gloss of youthAnd here to keep in abstinence we shameAs in incontinence; for not to swimI’ th’ aid o’ th’ current, were almost to sink,At least to frustrate striving; and to followThe common stream, ’twould bring us to an eddyWhere we should turn or drown; if labour through,Our gain but life and weakness.
PALAMON.Your adviceIs cried up with example. What strange ruins,Since first we went to school, may we perceiveWalking in Thebes! Scars and bare weedsThe gain o’ th’ martialist, who did propoundTo his bold ends honour and golden ingots,Which, though he won, he had not, and now flirtedBy peace for whom he fought! Who then shall offerTo Mars’s so-scorned altar? I do bleedWhen such I meet, and wish great Juno wouldResume her ancient fit of jealousyTo get the soldier work, that peace might purgeFor her repletion, and retain anewHer charitable heart, now hard and harsherThan strife or war could be.
ARCITE.Are you not out?Meet you no ruin but the soldier inThe cranks and turns of Thebes? You did beginAs if you met decays of many kinds.Perceive you none that do arouse your pityBut th’ unconsidered soldier?
PALAMON.Yes, I pityDecays where’er I find them, but such mostThat, sweating in an honourable toil,Are paid with ice to cool ’em.
ARCITE.’Tis not thisI did begin to speak of. This is virtueOf no respect in Thebes. I spake of Thebes,How dangerous, if we will keep our honours,It is for our residing, where every evilHath a good colour; where every seeming good’sA certain evil; where not to be e’en jumpAs they are here were to be strangers, and,Such things to be, mere monsters.
PALAMON.’Tis in our power—Unless we fear that apes can tutor ’s—toBe masters of our manners. What need IAffect another’s gait, which is not catchingWhere there is faith? Or to be fond uponAnother’s way of speech, when by mine ownI may be reasonably conceived, saved too,Speaking it truly? Why am I boundBy any generous bond to follow himFollows his tailor, haply so long untilThe followed make pursuit? Or let me knowWhy mine own barber is unblessed, with himMy poor chin too, for ’tis not scissored justTo such a favourite’s glass? What canon is thereThat does command my rapier from my hipTo dangle ’t in my hand, or to go tiptoeBefore the street be foul? Either I amThe fore-horse in the team, or I am noneThat draw i’ th’ sequent trace. These poor slight soresNeed not a plantain; that which rips my bosomAlmost to th’ heart’s—
ARCITE.Our uncle Creon.
PALAMON.He.A most unbounded tyrant, whose successesMakes heaven unfeared and villainy assuredBeyond its power there’s nothing; almost putsFaith in a fever, and deifies aloneVoluble chance; who only attributesThe faculties of other instrumentsTo his own nerves and act; commands men service,And what they win in ’t, boot and glory; oneThat fears not to do harm; good, dares not. LetThe blood of mine that’s sib to him be suckedFrom me with leeches; let them break and fallOff me with that corruption.
ARCITE.Clear-spirited cousin,Let’s leave his court, that we may nothing shareOf his loud infamy; for our milkWill relish of the pasture, and we mustBe vile or disobedient; not his kinsmenIn blood unless in quality.
PALAMON.Nothing truer.I think the echoes of his shames have deafedThe ears of heavenly justice. Widows’ criesDescend again into their throats and have notDue audience of the gods.
EnterValerius.
Valerius!
VALERIUS.The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footedTill his great rage be off him. Phœbus, whenHe broke his whipstock and exclaimed againstThe horses of the sun, but whispered toThe loudness of his fury.
PALAMON.Small winds shake him.But what’s the matter?
VALERIUS.Theseus, who where he threats appalls, hath sentDeadly defiance to him and pronouncesRuin to Thebes, who is at hand to sealThe promise of his wrath.
ARCITE.Let him approach.But that we fear the gods in him, he brings notA jot of terror to us. Yet what manThirds his own worth—the case is each of ours—When that his action’s dregged with mind assured’Tis bad he goes about?
PALAMON.Leave that unreasoned.Our services stand now for Thebes, not Creon.Yet to be neutral to him were dishonour,Rebellious to oppose; therefore we mustWith him stand to the mercy of our fate,Who hath bounded our last minute.
ARCITE.So we must.[To Valerius.] Is ’t said this war’s afoot? Or, it shall be,On fail of some condition?
VALERIUS.’Tis in motion;The intelligence of state came in the instantWith the defier.
PALAMON.Let’s to the King; who, were heA quarter carrier of that honour whichHis enemy come in, the blood we ventureShould be as for our health, which were not spent,Rather laid out for purchase. But alas,Our hands advanced before our hearts, what willThe fall o’ th’ stroke do damage?
ARCITE.Let th’ event,That never-erring arbitrator, tell usWhen we know all ourselves; and let us followThe becking of our chance.
[Exeunt.]
EnterPirithous, HippolytaandEmilia.
PIRITHOUS.No further.
HIPPOLYTA.Sir, farewell. Repeat my wishesTo our great lord, of whose success I dare notMake any timorous question; yet I wish himExcess and overflow of power, an ’t might be,To dure ill-dealing fortune. Speed to him!Store never hurts good governors.
PIRITHOUS.Though I knowHis ocean needs not my poor drops, yet theyMust yield their tribute there. My precious maid,Those best affections that the heavens infuseIn their best-tempered pieces keep enthronedIn your dear heart!
EMILIA.Thanks, sir. Remember meTo our all-royal brother, for whose speedThe great Bellona I’ll solicit; andSince in our terrene state petitions are notWithout gifts understood, I’ll offer to herWhat I shall be advised she likes. Our heartsAre in his army, in his tent.
HIPPOLYTA.In ’s bosom.We have been soldiers, and we cannot weepWhen our friends don their helms, or put to sea,Or tell of babes broached on the lance, or womenThat have sod their infants in—and after eat them—The brine they wept at killing ’em. Then ifYou stay to see of us such spinsters, weShould hold you here for ever.
PIRITHOUS.Peace be to youAs I pursue this war, which shall be thenBeyond further requiring.
[ExitPirithous.]
EMILIA.How his longingFollows his friend! Since his depart, his sports,Though craving seriousness and skill, passed slightlyHis careless execution, where nor gainMade him regard, or loss consider, butPlaying one business in his hand, anotherDirecting in his head, his mind nurse equalTo these so differing twins. Have you observed himSince our great lord departed?
HIPPOLYTA.With much labour,And I did love him for ’t. They two have cabinedIn many as dangerous as poor a corner,Peril and want contending; they have skiffedTorrents whose roaring tyranny and powerI’ th’ least of these was dreadful; and they haveFought 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 thinkTheseus cannot be umpire to himself,Cleaving his conscience into twain and doingEach side like justice, which he loves best.
EMILIA.DoubtlessThere is a best, and reason has no mannersTo say it is not you. I was acquaintedOnce 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’ moonWhich then looked pale at parting, when our countWas each eleven.
HIPPOLYTA.’Twas Flavina.
EMILIA.Yes.You talk of Pirithous’ and Theseus’ love.Theirs has more ground, is more maturely seasoned,More buckled with strong judgement, and their needsThe one of th’ other may be said to waterTheir intertangled roots of love; but I,And she I sigh and spoke of, were things innocent,Loved for we did, and like the elementsThat know not what nor why, yet do effectRare issues by their operance, our soulsDid so to one another. What she likedWas then of me approved, what not, condemned,No more arraignment. The flower that I would pluckAnd put between my breasts, O, then but beginningTo swell about the blossom—she would longTill she had such another, and commit itTo the like innocent cradle, where, phœnix-like,They died in perfume. On my head no toyBut was her pattern; her affections—pretty,Though haply her careless wear—I followedFor my most serious decking; had mine earStol’n some new air, or at adventure hummed oneFrom musical coinage, why, it was a noteWhereon her spirits would sojourn—rather, dwell on,And sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsal,Which fury-innocent wots well, comes inLike old importment’s bastard—has this end,That the true love ’tween maid and maid may beMore than in sex individual.
HIPPOLYTA.You’re out of breath;And this high-speeded pace is but to sayThat you shall never, like the maid Flavina,Love any that’s called man.
EMILIA.I am sure I shall not.
HIPPOLYTA.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, youHave said enough to shake me from the armOf the all-noble Theseus; for whose fortunesI will now in and kneel, with great assuranceThat we, more than his Pirithous, possessThe high throne in his heart.
EMILIA.I am notAgainst your faith, yet I continue mine.
[Exeunt.]
Cornets. A battle struck within; then a retreat. Flourish. Then enter,Theseus,as victor, with aHerald,other Lords, and Soldiers. The threeQueensmeet him and fall on their faces before him.
FIRST QUEEN.To thee no star be dark!
SECOND QUEEN.Both heaven and earthFriend thee for ever!
THIRD QUEEN.All the good that mayBe wished upon thy head, I cry “Amen” to ’t!
THESEUS.Th’ impartial gods, who from the mounted heavensView us their mortal herd, behold who errAnd, in their time, chastise. Go and find outThe bones of your dead lords and honour themWith treble ceremony, rather than a gapShould be in their dear rites, we would supply ’t,But those we will depute which shall investYou in your dignities and even each thingOur haste does leave imperfect. So, adieu,And heaven’s good eyes look on you.
[Exeunt Queens.]
Enter aHeraldand Soldiers bearingPalamonandArciteon hearses.
What are those?
HERALD.Men of great quality, as may be judgedBy their appointment. Some of Thebes have told ’sThey are sisters’ children, nephews to the King.
THESEUS.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 noteConstantly on them, for they were a markWorth a god’s view. What prisoner was ’t that told meWhen I enquired their names?
HERALD.Wi’ leave, they’re called Arcite and Palamon.
THESEUS.’Tis right; those, those. They are not dead?
HERALD.Nor in a state of life. Had they been takenWhen their last hurts were given, ’twas possibleThey might have been recovered; yet they breatheAnd have the name of men.
THESEUS.Then like men use ’em.The very lees of such, millions of rates,Exceed the wine of others. All our surgeonsConvent in their behoof; our richest balms,Rather than niggard, waste. Their lives concern usMuch more than Thebes is worth. Rather than have ’emFreed of this plight, and in their morning state,Sound and at liberty, I would ’em dead;But forty-thousandfold we had rather have ’emPrisoners to us than death. Bear ’em speedilyFrom our kind air, to them unkind, and ministerWhat 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 toWithout some imposition, sickness in willO’er-wrestling strength in reason. For our loveAnd great Apollo’s mercy, all our bestTheir best skill tender. Lead into the city,Where, having bound things scattered, we will postTo Athens ’fore our army.
[Flourish. Exeunt.]
Music. Enter theQueenswith the hearses of their knights, in a funeral solemnity, &c.
SONG.
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 showsThat are quick-eyed Pleasure’s foes;We convent naught else but woes.We convent naught else but woes.
THIRD QUEEN.This funeral path brings to your household’s grave.Joy seize on you again; peace sleep with him.
SECOND QUEEN.And this to yours.
FIRST QUEEN.Yours this way. Heavens lendA thousand differing ways to one sure end.
THIRD QUEEN.This world’s a city full of straying streets,And death’s the market-place where each one meets.
[Exeunt severally.]