Actus Quartus.Scaena 1. (Athens. A room in the prison.)[Enter Iailor and his friend.]IAILOR.Heare you no more? was nothing saide of meConcerning the escape of Palamon?Good Sir, remember.1. FRIEND.Nothing that I heard,For I came home before the businesWas fully ended: Yet I might perceive,Ere I departed, a great likelihoodOf both their pardons: For Hipolita,And faire-eyd Emilie, upon their kneesBegd with such hansom pitty, that the DukeMe thought stood staggering, whether he should followHis rash oth, or the sweet compassionOf those two Ladies; and to second them,That truely noble Prince Perithous,Halfe his owne heart, set in too, that I hopeAll shall be well: Neither heard I one questionOf your name or his scape.[Enter 2. Friend.]IAILOR.Pray heaven it hold so.2. FRIEND.Be of good comfort, man; I bring you newes,Good newes.IAILOR.They are welcome,2. FRIEND.Palamon has cleerd you,And got your pardon, and discoverd howAnd by whose meanes he escapt, which was your Daughters,Whose pardon is procurd too; and the Prisoner,Not to be held ungratefull to her goodnes,Has given a summe of money to her Marriage,A large one, ile assure you.IAILOR.Ye are a good manAnd ever bring good newes.1. FRIEND.How was it ended?2. FRIEND.Why, as it should be; they that nev’r begdBut they prevaild, had their suites fairely granted,The prisoners have their lives.1. FRIEND.I knew t’would be so.2. FRIEND.But there be new conditions, which you’l heare ofAt better time.IAILOR.I hope they are good.2. FRIEND.They are honourable,How good they’l prove, I know not.[Enter Wooer.]1. FRIEND.T’will be knowne.WOOER.Alas, Sir, wher’s your Daughter?IAILOR.Why doe you aske?WOOER.O, Sir, when did you see her?2. FRIEND.How he lookes?IAILOR.This morning.WOOER.Was she well? was she in health, Sir?When did she sleepe?1. FRIEND.These are strange Questions.IAILOR.I doe not thinke she was very well, for nowYou make me minde her, but this very dayI ask’d her questions, and she answered meSo farre from what she was, so childishly,So sillily, as if she were a foole,An Inocent, and I was very angry.But what of her, Sir?WOOER.Nothing but my pitty;But you must know it, and as good by meAs by an other that lesse loves her—IAILOR.Well, Sir.1. FRIEND.Not right?2. FRIEND.Not well?WOOER.No, Sir, not well.Tis too true, she is mad.1. FRIEND.It cannot be.WOOER.Beleeve, you’l finde it so.IAILOR.I halfe suspectedWhat you (have) told me: the gods comfort her:Either this was her love to Palamon,Or feare of my miscarrying on his scape,Or both.WOOER.Tis likely.IAILOR.But why all this haste, Sir?WOOER.Ile tell you quickly. As I late was anglingIn the great Lake that lies behind the Pallace,From the far shore, thicke set with reedes and Sedges,As patiently I was attending sport,I heard a voyce, a shrill one, and attentiveI gave my eare, when I might well perceiveT’was one that sung, and by the smallnesse of itA boy or woman. I then left my angleTo his owne skill, came neere, but yet perceivd notWho made the sound, the rushes and the ReedsHad so encompast it: I laide me downeAnd listned to the words she sung, for then,Through a small glade cut by the Fisher men,I saw it was your Daughter.IAILOR.Pray, goe on, Sir?WOOER.She sung much, but no sence; onely I heard herRepeat this often: ‘Palamon is gone,Is gone to’th wood to gather Mulberies;Ile finde him out to morrow.’1. FRIEND.Pretty soule.WOOER.‘His shackles will betray him, hee’l be taken,And what shall I doe then? Ile bring a beavy,A hundred blacke eyd Maides, that love as I doe,With Chaplets on their heads of Daffadillies,With cherry-lips, and cheekes of Damaske Roses,And all wee’l daunce an Antique fore the Duke,And beg his pardon.’ Then she talk’d of you, Sir;That you must loose your head to morrow morning,And she must gather flowers to bury you,And see the house made handsome: then she sungNothing but ‘Willow, willow, willow,’ and betweeneEver was, ‘Palamon, faire Palamon,’And ‘Palamon was a tall yong man.’ The placeWas knee deepe where she sat; her careles TressesA wreathe of bull-rush rounded; about her stuckeThousand fresh water flowers of severall cullors,That me thought she appeard like the faire NimphThat feedes the lake with waters, or as IrisNewly dropt downe from heaven; Rings she madeOf rushes that grew by, and to ’em spokeThe prettiest posies: ‘Thus our true love’s tide,’‘This you may loose, not me,’ and many a one:And then she wept, and sung againe, and sigh’d,And with the same breath smil’d, and kist her hand.2. FRIEND.Alas, what pitty it is!WOOER.I made in to her.She saw me, and straight sought the flood; I sav’d her,And set her safe to land: when presentlyShe slipt away, and to the Citty made,With such a cry and swiftnes, that, beleeve me,Shee left me farre behinde her; three or foureI saw from farre off crosse her, one of ’emI knew to be your brother; where she staid,And fell, scarce to be got away: I left them with her, [Enter Brother, Daughter, and others.]And hether came to tell you. Here they are.DAUGHTER. [sings.]May you never more enjoy the light, &c.Is not this a fine Song?BROTHER.O, a very fine one.DAUGHTER.I can sing twenty more.BROTHER.I thinke you can.DAUGHTER.Yes, truely, can I; I can sing the Broome,And Bony Robin. Are not you a tailour?BROTHER.Yes.DAUGHTER.Wher’s my wedding Gowne?BROTHER.Ile bring it to morrow.DAUGHTER.Doe, very rarely; I must be abroad elseTo call the Maides, and pay the Minstrels,For I must loose my Maydenhead by cock-light;Twill never thrive else.[Singes.] O faire, oh sweete, &c.BROTHER.You must ev’n take it patiently.IAILOR.Tis true.DAUGHTER.Good ev’n, good men; pray, did you ever heareOf one yong Palamon?IAILOR.Yes, wench, we know him.DAUGHTER.Is’t not a fine yong Gentleman?IAILOR.Tis Love.BROTHER.By no meane crosse her; she is then distemperdFar worse then now she showes.1. FRIEND.Yes, he’s a fine man.DAUGHTER.O, is he so? you have a Sister?1. FRIEND.Yes.DAUGHTER.But she shall never have him, tell her so,For a tricke that I know; y’had best looke to her,For if she see him once, she’s gone, she’s done,And undon in an howre. All the young MaydesOf our Towne are in love with him, but I laugh at ’emAnd let ’em all alone; Is’t not a wise course?1. FRIEND.Yes.DAUGHTER.There is at least two hundred now with child by him—There must be fowre; yet I keepe close for all this,Close as a Cockle; and all these must be Boyes,He has the tricke on’t, and at ten yeares oldThey must be all gelt for Musitians,And sing the wars of Theseus.2. FRIEND.This is strange.DAUGHTER.As ever you heard, but say nothing.1. FRIEND.No.DAUGHTER.They come from all parts of the Dukedome to him;Ile warrant ye, he had not so few last nightAs twenty to dispatch: hee’l tickl’t upIn two howres, if his hand be in.IAILOR.She’s lostPast all cure.BROTHER.Heaven forbid, man.DAUGHTER.Come hither, you are a wise man.1. FRIEND.Do’s she know him?2. FRIEND.No, would she did.DAUGHTER.You are master of a Ship?IAILOR.Yes.DAUGHTER.Wher’s your Compasse?IAILOR.Heere.DAUGHTER.Set it too’th North.And now direct your course to’th wood, wher PalamonLyes longing for me; For the TacklingLet me alone; Come, waygh, my hearts, cheerely!ALL.Owgh, owgh, owgh, tis up, the wind’s faire,Top the Bowling, out with the maine saile;Wher’s your Whistle, Master?BROTHER.Lets get her in.IAILOR.Vp to the top, Boy.BROTHER.Wher’s the Pilot?1. FRIEND.Heere.DAUGHTER.What ken’st thou?2. FRIEND.A faire wood.DAUGHTER.Beare for it, master: take about! [Singes.]When Cinthia with her borrowed light, &c. [Exeunt.]Scaena 2. (A Room in the Palace.)[Enter Emilia alone, with 2. Pictures.]EMILIA.Yet I may binde those wounds up, that must openAnd bleed to death for my sake else; Ile choose,And end their strife: Two such yong hansom menShall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers,Following the dead cold ashes of their Sonnes,Shall never curse my cruelty. Good heaven,What a sweet face has Arcite! if wise nature,With all her best endowments, all those beutiesShe sowes into the birthes of noble bodies,Were here a mortall woman, and had in herThe coy denialls of yong Maydes, yet doubtles,She would run mad for this man: what an eye,Of what a fyry sparkle, and quick sweetnes,Has this yong Prince! Here Love himselfe sits smyling,Iust such another wanton GanimeadSet Jove a fire with, and enforcd the godSnatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by himA shining constellation: What a brow,Of what a spacious Majesty, he carries!Arch’d like the great eyd Iuno’s, but far sweeter,Smoother then Pelops Shoulder! Fame and honour,Me thinks, from hence, as from a PromontoryPointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and singTo all the under world the Loves and FightsOf gods, and such men neere ’em. PalamonIs but his foyle, to him a meere dull shadow:Hee’s swarth and meagre, of an eye as heavyAs if he had lost his mother; a still temper,No stirring in him, no alacrity,Of all this sprightly sharpenes not a smile;Yet these that we count errours may become him:Narcissus was a sad Boy, but a heavenly:—Oh who can finde the bent of womans fancy?I am a Foole, my reason is lost in me;I have no choice, and I have ly’d so lewdlyThat women ought to beate me. On my kneesI aske thy pardon, Palamon; thou art alone,And only beutifull, and these the eyes,These the bright lamps of beauty, that commandAnd threaten Love, and what yong Mayd dare crosse ’em?What a bold gravity, and yet inviting,Has this browne manly face! O Love, this onlyFrom this howre is Complexion: Lye there, Arcite,Thou art a changling to him, a meere Gipsey,And this the noble Bodie. I am sotted,Vtterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me;For if my brother but even now had ask’d meWhether I lov’d, I had run mad for Arcite;Now, if my Sister, More for Palamon.Stand both together: Now, come aske me, Brother.—Alas, I know not! Aske me now, sweet Sister;—I may goe looke. What a meere child is Fancie,That, having two faire gawdes of equall sweetnesse,Cannot distinguish, but must crie for both.[Enter (a) Gent(leman.)]EMILIA.How now, Sir?GENTLEMAN.From the Noble Duke your Brother,Madam, I bring you newes: The Knights are come.EMILIA.To end the quarrell?GENTLEMAN.Yes.EMILIA.Would I might end first:What sinnes have I committed, chast Diana,That my unspotted youth must now be soyldWith blood of Princes? and my ChastitieBe made the Altar, where the lives of Lovers(Two greater and two better never yetMade mothers joy) must be the sacrificeTo my unhappy Beautie?[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Perithous and attendants.]THESEUS.Bring ’em inQuickly, By any meanes; I long to see ’em.—Your two contending Lovers are return’d,And with them their faire Knights: Now, my faire Sister,You must love one of them.EMILIA.I had rather both,So neither for my sake should fall untimely.[Enter Messenger. (Curtis.)]THESEUS.Who saw ’em?PERITHOUS.I, a while.GENTLEMAN.And I.THESEUS.From whence come you, Sir?MESSENGER.From the Knights.THESEUS.Pray, speake,You that have seene them, what they are.MESSENGER.I will, Sir,And truly what I thinke: Six braver spiritsThen these they have brought, (if we judge by the outside)I never saw, nor read of. He that standsIn the first place with Arcite, by his seeming,Should be a stout man, by his face a Prince,(His very lookes so say him) his complexion,Nearer a browne, than blacke, sterne, and yet noble,Which shewes him hardy, fearelesse, proud of dangers:The circles of his eyes show fire within him,And as a heated Lyon, so he lookes;His haire hangs long behind him, blacke and shiningLike Ravens wings: his shoulders broad and strong,Armd long and round, and on his Thigh a SwordHung by a curious Bauldricke, when he frownesTo seale his will with: better, o’my conscienceWas never Souldiers friend.THESEUS.Thou ha’st well describde him.PERITHOUS.Yet a great deale short,Me thinkes, of him that’s first with Palamon.THESEUS.Pray, speake him, friend.PERITHOUS.I ghesse he is a Prince too,And, if it may be, greater; for his showHas all the ornament of honour in’t:Hee’s somewhat bigger, then the Knight he spoke of,But of a face far sweeter; His complexionIs (as a ripe grape) ruddy: he has felt,Without doubt, what he fights for, and so apterTo make this cause his owne: In’s face appearesAll the faire hopes of what he undertakes,And when he’s angry, then a setled valour(Not tainted with extreames) runs through his body,And guides his arme to brave things: Feare he cannot,He shewes no such soft temper; his head’s yellow,Hard hayr’d, and curld, thicke twind like Ivy tods,Not to undoe with thunder; In his faceThe liverie of the warlike Maide appeares,Pure red, and white, for yet no beard has blest him.And in his rowling eyes sits victory,As if she ever ment to court his valour:His Nose stands high, a Character of honour.His red lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.EMILIA.Must these men die too?PERITHOUS.When he speakes, his tongueSounds like a Trumpet; All his lyneamentsAre as a man would wish ’em, strong and cleane,He weares a well-steeld Axe, the staffe of gold;His age some five and twenty.MESSENGER.Ther’s another,A little man, but of a tough soule, seemingAs great as any: fairer promisesIn such a Body yet I never look’d on.PERITHOUS.O, he that’s freckle fac’d?MESSENGER.The same, my Lord;Are they not sweet ones?PERITHOUS.Yes, they are well.MESSENGER.Me thinkes,Being so few, and well disposd, they showGreat, and fine art in nature: he’s white hair’d,Not wanton white, but such a manly colourNext to an aborne; tough, and nimble set,Which showes an active soule; his armes are brawny,Linde with strong sinewes: To the shoulder peeceGently they swell, like women new conceav’d,Which speakes him prone to labour, never faintingVnder the waight of Armes; stout harted, still,But when he stirs, a Tiger; he’s gray eyd,Which yeelds compassion where he conquers: sharpeTo spy advantages, and where he finds ’em,He’s swift to make ’em his: He do’s no wrongs,Nor takes none; he’s round fac’d, and when he smilesHe showes a Lover, when he frownes, a Souldier:About his head he weares the winners oke,And in it stucke the favour of his Lady:His age, some six and thirtie. In his handHe beares a charging Staffe, embost with silver.THESEUS.Are they all thus?PERITHOUS.They are all the sonnes of honour.THESEUS.Now, as I have a soule, I long to see’em.Lady, you shall see men fight now.HIPPOLITA.I wish it,But not the cause, my Lord; They would showBravely about the Titles of two Kingdomes;Tis pitty Love should be so tyrannous:O my soft harted Sister, what thinke you?Weepe not, till they weepe blood, Wench; it must be.THESEUS.You have steel’d ’em with your Beautie.—Honord Friend,To you I give the Feild; pray, order itFitting the persons that must use it.PERITHOUS.Yes, Sir.THESEUS.Come, Ile goe visit ’em: I cannot stay,Their fame has fir’d me so; Till they appeare.Good Friend, be royall.PERITHOUS.There shall want no bravery.EMILIA.Poore wench, goe weepe, for whosoever wins,Looses a noble Cosen for thy sins. [Exeunt.]Scaena 3. (A room in the prison.)[Enter Iailor, Wooer, Doctor.]DOCTOR.Her distraction is more at some time of the Moone, then at other some, is it not?IAILOR.She is continually in a harmelesse distemper, sleepes little, altogether without appetite, save often drinking, dreaming of another world, and a better; and what broken peece of matter so’ere she’s about, the name Palamon lardes it, that she farces ev’ry busines withall, fyts it to every question.—[Enter Daughter.]Looke where shee comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.DAUGHTER.I have forgot it quite; The burden on’t, was DOWNE A, DOWNE A, and pend by no worse man, then Giraldo, Emilias Schoolemaster; he’s as Fantasticall too, as ever he may goe upon’s legs,—for in the next world will Dido see Palamon, and then will she be out of love with Eneas.DOCTOR.What stuff’s here? pore soule!IAILOR.Ev’n thus all day long.DAUGHTER.Now for this Charme, that I told you of: you must bring a peece of silver on the tip of your tongue, or no ferry: then, if it be your chance to come where the blessed spirits, as ther’s a sight now—we maids that have our Lyvers perish’d, crakt to peeces with Love, we shall come there, and doe nothing all day long but picke flowers with Proserpine; then will I make Palamon a Nosegay; then let him marke me,—then—DOCTOR.How prettily she’s amisse? note her a little further.DAUGHTER.Faith, ile tell you, sometime we goe to Barly breake, we of the blessed; alas, tis a sore life they have i’th other place, such burning, frying, boyling, hissing, howling, chattring, cursing, oh they have shrowd measure! take heede; if one be mad, or hang or drowne themselves, thither they goe, Iupiter blesse vs, and there shall we be put in a Caldron of lead, and Vsurers grease, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boyle like a Gamon of Bacon that will never be enough. [Exit.]DOCTOR.How her braine coynes!DAUGHTER.Lords and Courtiers, that have got maids with Child, they are in this place: they shall stand in fire up to the Nav’le, and in yce up to’th hart, and there th’offending part burnes, and the deceaving part freezes; in troth, a very greevous punishment, as one would thinke, for such a Trifle; beleve me, one would marry a leaprous witch, to be rid on’t, Ile assure you.DOCTOR.How she continues this fancie! Tis not an engraffed Madnesse, but a most thicke, and profound mellencholly.DAUGHTER.To heare there a proud Lady, and a proud Citty wiffe, howle together! I were a beast and il’d call it good sport: one cries, ‘O this smoake!’ another, ‘this fire!’ One cries, ‘O, that ever I did it behind the arras!’ and then howles; th’other curses a suing fellow and her garden house. [Sings] I will be true, my stars, my fate, &c. [Exit Daugh.]IAILOR.What thinke you of her, Sir?DOCTOR.I thinke she has a perturbed minde, which I cannot minister to.IAILOR.Alas, what then?DOCTOR.Vnderstand you, she ever affected any man, ere she beheldPalamon?IAILOR.I was once, Sir, in great hope she had fixd her liking on this gentleman, my friend.WOOER.I did thinke so too, and would account I had a great pen-worth on’t, to give halfe my state, that both she and I at this present stood unfainedly on the same tearmes.DOCTOR.That intemprat surfeit of her eye hath distemperd the other sences: they may returne and settle againe to execute their preordaind faculties, but they are now in a most extravagant vagary. This you must doe: Confine her to a place, where the light may rather seeme to steale in, then be permitted; take vpon you (yong Sir, her friend) the name of Palamon; say you come to eate with her, and to commune of Love; this will catch her attention, for this her minde beates upon; other objects that are inserted tweene her minde and eye become the prankes and friskins of her madnes; Sing to her such greene songs of Love, as she sayes Palamon hath sung in prison; Come to her, stucke in as sweet flowers as the season is mistres of, and thereto make an addition of som other compounded odours, which are grateful to the sence: all this shall become Palamon, for Palamon can sing, and Palamon is sweet, and ev’ry good thing: desire to eate with her, carve her, drinke to her, and still among, intermingle your petition of grace and acceptance into her favour: Learne what Maides have beene her companions and play-pheeres, and let them repaire to her with Palamon in their mouthes, and appeare with tokens, as if they suggested for him. It is a falsehood she is in, which is with falsehood to be combated. This may bring her to eate, to sleepe, and reduce what’s now out of square in her, into their former law, and regiment; I have seene it approved, how many times I know not, but to make the number more, I have great hope in this. I will, betweene the passages of this project, come in with my applyance: Let us put it in execution, and hasten the successe, which, doubt not, will bring forth comfort. [Florish. Exeunt.]
[Enter Iailor and his friend.]
IAILOR.Heare you no more? was nothing saide of meConcerning the escape of Palamon?Good Sir, remember.
1. FRIEND.Nothing that I heard,For I came home before the businesWas fully ended: Yet I might perceive,Ere I departed, a great likelihoodOf both their pardons: For Hipolita,And faire-eyd Emilie, upon their kneesBegd with such hansom pitty, that the DukeMe thought stood staggering, whether he should followHis rash oth, or the sweet compassionOf those two Ladies; and to second them,That truely noble Prince Perithous,Halfe his owne heart, set in too, that I hopeAll shall be well: Neither heard I one questionOf your name or his scape.
[Enter 2. Friend.]
IAILOR.Pray heaven it hold so.
2. FRIEND.Be of good comfort, man; I bring you newes,Good newes.
IAILOR.They are welcome,
2. FRIEND.Palamon has cleerd you,And got your pardon, and discoverd howAnd by whose meanes he escapt, which was your Daughters,Whose pardon is procurd too; and the Prisoner,Not to be held ungratefull to her goodnes,Has given a summe of money to her Marriage,A large one, ile assure you.
IAILOR.Ye are a good manAnd ever bring good newes.
1. FRIEND.How was it ended?
2. FRIEND.Why, as it should be; they that nev’r begdBut they prevaild, had their suites fairely granted,The prisoners have their lives.
1. FRIEND.I knew t’would be so.
2. FRIEND.But there be new conditions, which you’l heare ofAt better time.
IAILOR.I hope they are good.
2. FRIEND.They are honourable,How good they’l prove, I know not.
[Enter Wooer.]
1. FRIEND.T’will be knowne.
WOOER.Alas, Sir, wher’s your Daughter?
IAILOR.Why doe you aske?
WOOER.O, Sir, when did you see her?
2. FRIEND.How he lookes?
IAILOR.This morning.
WOOER.Was she well? was she in health, Sir?When did she sleepe?
1. FRIEND.These are strange Questions.
IAILOR.I doe not thinke she was very well, for nowYou make me minde her, but this very dayI ask’d her questions, and she answered meSo farre from what she was, so childishly,So sillily, as if she were a foole,An Inocent, and I was very angry.But what of her, Sir?
WOOER.Nothing but my pitty;But you must know it, and as good by meAs by an other that lesse loves her—
IAILOR.Well, Sir.
1. FRIEND.Not right?
2. FRIEND.Not well?
WOOER.No, Sir, not well.Tis too true, she is mad.
1. FRIEND.It cannot be.
WOOER.Beleeve, you’l finde it so.
IAILOR.I halfe suspectedWhat you (have) told me: the gods comfort her:Either this was her love to Palamon,Or feare of my miscarrying on his scape,Or both.
WOOER.Tis likely.
IAILOR.But why all this haste, Sir?
WOOER.Ile tell you quickly. As I late was anglingIn the great Lake that lies behind the Pallace,From the far shore, thicke set with reedes and Sedges,As patiently I was attending sport,I heard a voyce, a shrill one, and attentiveI gave my eare, when I might well perceiveT’was one that sung, and by the smallnesse of itA boy or woman. I then left my angleTo his owne skill, came neere, but yet perceivd notWho made the sound, the rushes and the ReedsHad so encompast it: I laide me downeAnd listned to the words she sung, for then,Through a small glade cut by the Fisher men,I saw it was your Daughter.
IAILOR.Pray, goe on, Sir?
WOOER.She sung much, but no sence; onely I heard herRepeat this often: ‘Palamon is gone,Is gone to’th wood to gather Mulberies;Ile finde him out to morrow.’
1. FRIEND.Pretty soule.
WOOER.‘His shackles will betray him, hee’l be taken,And what shall I doe then? Ile bring a beavy,A hundred blacke eyd Maides, that love as I doe,With Chaplets on their heads of Daffadillies,With cherry-lips, and cheekes of Damaske Roses,And all wee’l daunce an Antique fore the Duke,And beg his pardon.’ Then she talk’d of you, Sir;That you must loose your head to morrow morning,And she must gather flowers to bury you,And see the house made handsome: then she sungNothing but ‘Willow, willow, willow,’ and betweeneEver was, ‘Palamon, faire Palamon,’And ‘Palamon was a tall yong man.’ The placeWas knee deepe where she sat; her careles TressesA wreathe of bull-rush rounded; about her stuckeThousand fresh water flowers of severall cullors,That me thought she appeard like the faire NimphThat feedes the lake with waters, or as IrisNewly dropt downe from heaven; Rings she madeOf rushes that grew by, and to ’em spokeThe prettiest posies: ‘Thus our true love’s tide,’‘This you may loose, not me,’ and many a one:And then she wept, and sung againe, and sigh’d,And with the same breath smil’d, and kist her hand.
2. FRIEND.Alas, what pitty it is!
WOOER.I made in to her.She saw me, and straight sought the flood; I sav’d her,And set her safe to land: when presentlyShe slipt away, and to the Citty made,With such a cry and swiftnes, that, beleeve me,Shee left me farre behinde her; three or foureI saw from farre off crosse her, one of ’emI knew to be your brother; where she staid,And fell, scarce to be got away: I left them with her, [Enter Brother, Daughter, and others.]And hether came to tell you. Here they are.
DAUGHTER. [sings.]
May you never more enjoy the light, &c.
Is not this a fine Song?
BROTHER.O, a very fine one.
DAUGHTER.I can sing twenty more.
BROTHER.I thinke you can.
DAUGHTER.Yes, truely, can I; I can sing the Broome,And Bony Robin. Are not you a tailour?
BROTHER.Yes.
DAUGHTER.Wher’s my wedding Gowne?
BROTHER.Ile bring it to morrow.
DAUGHTER.Doe, very rarely; I must be abroad elseTo call the Maides, and pay the Minstrels,For I must loose my Maydenhead by cock-light;Twill never thrive else.[Singes.] O faire, oh sweete, &c.
BROTHER.You must ev’n take it patiently.
IAILOR.Tis true.
DAUGHTER.Good ev’n, good men; pray, did you ever heareOf one yong Palamon?
IAILOR.Yes, wench, we know him.
DAUGHTER.Is’t not a fine yong Gentleman?
IAILOR.Tis Love.
BROTHER.By no meane crosse her; she is then distemperdFar worse then now she showes.
1. FRIEND.Yes, he’s a fine man.
DAUGHTER.O, is he so? you have a Sister?
1. FRIEND.Yes.
DAUGHTER.But she shall never have him, tell her so,For a tricke that I know; y’had best looke to her,For if she see him once, she’s gone, she’s done,And undon in an howre. All the young MaydesOf our Towne are in love with him, but I laugh at ’emAnd let ’em all alone; Is’t not a wise course?
1. FRIEND.Yes.
DAUGHTER.There is at least two hundred now with child by him—There must be fowre; yet I keepe close for all this,Close as a Cockle; and all these must be Boyes,He has the tricke on’t, and at ten yeares oldThey must be all gelt for Musitians,And sing the wars of Theseus.
2. FRIEND.This is strange.
DAUGHTER.As ever you heard, but say nothing.
1. FRIEND.No.
DAUGHTER.They come from all parts of the Dukedome to him;Ile warrant ye, he had not so few last nightAs twenty to dispatch: hee’l tickl’t upIn two howres, if his hand be in.
IAILOR.She’s lostPast all cure.
BROTHER.Heaven forbid, man.
DAUGHTER.Come hither, you are a wise man.
1. FRIEND.Do’s she know him?
2. FRIEND.No, would she did.
DAUGHTER.You are master of a Ship?
IAILOR.Yes.
DAUGHTER.Wher’s your Compasse?
IAILOR.Heere.
DAUGHTER.Set it too’th North.And now direct your course to’th wood, wher PalamonLyes longing for me; For the TacklingLet me alone; Come, waygh, my hearts, cheerely!
ALL.Owgh, owgh, owgh, tis up, the wind’s faire,Top the Bowling, out with the maine saile;Wher’s your Whistle, Master?
BROTHER.Lets get her in.
IAILOR.Vp to the top, Boy.
BROTHER.Wher’s the Pilot?
1. FRIEND.Heere.
DAUGHTER.What ken’st thou?
2. FRIEND.A faire wood.
DAUGHTER.Beare for it, master: take about! [Singes.]When Cinthia with her borrowed light, &c. [Exeunt.]
[Enter Emilia alone, with 2. Pictures.]
EMILIA.Yet I may binde those wounds up, that must openAnd bleed to death for my sake else; Ile choose,And end their strife: Two such yong hansom menShall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers,Following the dead cold ashes of their Sonnes,Shall never curse my cruelty. Good heaven,What a sweet face has Arcite! if wise nature,With all her best endowments, all those beutiesShe sowes into the birthes of noble bodies,Were here a mortall woman, and had in herThe coy denialls of yong Maydes, yet doubtles,She would run mad for this man: what an eye,Of what a fyry sparkle, and quick sweetnes,Has this yong Prince! Here Love himselfe sits smyling,Iust such another wanton GanimeadSet Jove a fire with, and enforcd the godSnatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by himA shining constellation: What a brow,Of what a spacious Majesty, he carries!Arch’d like the great eyd Iuno’s, but far sweeter,Smoother then Pelops Shoulder! Fame and honour,Me thinks, from hence, as from a PromontoryPointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and singTo all the under world the Loves and FightsOf gods, and such men neere ’em. PalamonIs but his foyle, to him a meere dull shadow:Hee’s swarth and meagre, of an eye as heavyAs if he had lost his mother; a still temper,No stirring in him, no alacrity,Of all this sprightly sharpenes not a smile;Yet these that we count errours may become him:Narcissus was a sad Boy, but a heavenly:—Oh who can finde the bent of womans fancy?I am a Foole, my reason is lost in me;I have no choice, and I have ly’d so lewdlyThat women ought to beate me. On my kneesI aske thy pardon, Palamon; thou art alone,And only beutifull, and these the eyes,These the bright lamps of beauty, that commandAnd threaten Love, and what yong Mayd dare crosse ’em?What a bold gravity, and yet inviting,Has this browne manly face! O Love, this onlyFrom this howre is Complexion: Lye there, Arcite,Thou art a changling to him, a meere Gipsey,And this the noble Bodie. I am sotted,Vtterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me;For if my brother but even now had ask’d meWhether I lov’d, I had run mad for Arcite;Now, if my Sister, More for Palamon.Stand both together: Now, come aske me, Brother.—Alas, I know not! Aske me now, sweet Sister;—I may goe looke. What a meere child is Fancie,That, having two faire gawdes of equall sweetnesse,Cannot distinguish, but must crie for both.
[Enter (a) Gent(leman.)]
EMILIA.How now, Sir?
GENTLEMAN.From the Noble Duke your Brother,Madam, I bring you newes: The Knights are come.
EMILIA.To end the quarrell?
GENTLEMAN.Yes.
EMILIA.Would I might end first:What sinnes have I committed, chast Diana,That my unspotted youth must now be soyldWith blood of Princes? and my ChastitieBe made the Altar, where the lives of Lovers(Two greater and two better never yetMade mothers joy) must be the sacrificeTo my unhappy Beautie?
[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Perithous and attendants.]
THESEUS.Bring ’em inQuickly, By any meanes; I long to see ’em.—Your two contending Lovers are return’d,And with them their faire Knights: Now, my faire Sister,You must love one of them.
EMILIA.I had rather both,So neither for my sake should fall untimely.
[Enter Messenger. (Curtis.)]
THESEUS.Who saw ’em?
PERITHOUS.I, a while.
GENTLEMAN.And I.
THESEUS.From whence come you, Sir?
MESSENGER.From the Knights.
THESEUS.Pray, speake,You that have seene them, what they are.
MESSENGER.I will, Sir,And truly what I thinke: Six braver spiritsThen these they have brought, (if we judge by the outside)I never saw, nor read of. He that standsIn the first place with Arcite, by his seeming,Should be a stout man, by his face a Prince,(His very lookes so say him) his complexion,Nearer a browne, than blacke, sterne, and yet noble,Which shewes him hardy, fearelesse, proud of dangers:The circles of his eyes show fire within him,And as a heated Lyon, so he lookes;His haire hangs long behind him, blacke and shiningLike Ravens wings: his shoulders broad and strong,Armd long and round, and on his Thigh a SwordHung by a curious Bauldricke, when he frownesTo seale his will with: better, o’my conscienceWas never Souldiers friend.
THESEUS.Thou ha’st well describde him.
PERITHOUS.Yet a great deale short,Me thinkes, of him that’s first with Palamon.
THESEUS.Pray, speake him, friend.
PERITHOUS.I ghesse he is a Prince too,And, if it may be, greater; for his showHas all the ornament of honour in’t:Hee’s somewhat bigger, then the Knight he spoke of,But of a face far sweeter; His complexionIs (as a ripe grape) ruddy: he has felt,Without doubt, what he fights for, and so apterTo make this cause his owne: In’s face appearesAll the faire hopes of what he undertakes,And when he’s angry, then a setled valour(Not tainted with extreames) runs through his body,And guides his arme to brave things: Feare he cannot,He shewes no such soft temper; his head’s yellow,Hard hayr’d, and curld, thicke twind like Ivy tods,Not to undoe with thunder; In his faceThe liverie of the warlike Maide appeares,Pure red, and white, for yet no beard has blest him.And in his rowling eyes sits victory,As if she ever ment to court his valour:His Nose stands high, a Character of honour.His red lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.
EMILIA.Must these men die too?
PERITHOUS.When he speakes, his tongueSounds like a Trumpet; All his lyneamentsAre as a man would wish ’em, strong and cleane,He weares a well-steeld Axe, the staffe of gold;His age some five and twenty.
MESSENGER.Ther’s another,A little man, but of a tough soule, seemingAs great as any: fairer promisesIn such a Body yet I never look’d on.
PERITHOUS.O, he that’s freckle fac’d?
MESSENGER.The same, my Lord;Are they not sweet ones?
PERITHOUS.Yes, they are well.
MESSENGER.Me thinkes,Being so few, and well disposd, they showGreat, and fine art in nature: he’s white hair’d,Not wanton white, but such a manly colourNext to an aborne; tough, and nimble set,Which showes an active soule; his armes are brawny,Linde with strong sinewes: To the shoulder peeceGently they swell, like women new conceav’d,Which speakes him prone to labour, never faintingVnder the waight of Armes; stout harted, still,But when he stirs, a Tiger; he’s gray eyd,Which yeelds compassion where he conquers: sharpeTo spy advantages, and where he finds ’em,He’s swift to make ’em his: He do’s no wrongs,Nor takes none; he’s round fac’d, and when he smilesHe showes a Lover, when he frownes, a Souldier:About his head he weares the winners oke,And in it stucke the favour of his Lady:His age, some six and thirtie. In his handHe beares a charging Staffe, embost with silver.
THESEUS.Are they all thus?
PERITHOUS.They are all the sonnes of honour.
THESEUS.Now, as I have a soule, I long to see’em.Lady, you shall see men fight now.
HIPPOLITA.I wish it,But not the cause, my Lord; They would showBravely about the Titles of two Kingdomes;Tis pitty Love should be so tyrannous:O my soft harted Sister, what thinke you?Weepe not, till they weepe blood, Wench; it must be.
THESEUS.You have steel’d ’em with your Beautie.—Honord Friend,To you I give the Feild; pray, order itFitting the persons that must use it.
PERITHOUS.Yes, Sir.
THESEUS.Come, Ile goe visit ’em: I cannot stay,Their fame has fir’d me so; Till they appeare.Good Friend, be royall.
PERITHOUS.There shall want no bravery.
EMILIA.Poore wench, goe weepe, for whosoever wins,Looses a noble Cosen for thy sins. [Exeunt.]
[Enter Iailor, Wooer, Doctor.]
DOCTOR.Her distraction is more at some time of the Moone, then at other some, is it not?
IAILOR.She is continually in a harmelesse distemper, sleepes little, altogether without appetite, save often drinking, dreaming of another world, and a better; and what broken peece of matter so’ere she’s about, the name Palamon lardes it, that she farces ev’ry busines withall, fyts it to every question.—
[Enter Daughter.]
Looke where shee comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.
DAUGHTER.I have forgot it quite; The burden on’t, was DOWNE A, DOWNE A, and pend by no worse man, then Giraldo, Emilias Schoolemaster; he’s as Fantasticall too, as ever he may goe upon’s legs,—for in the next world will Dido see Palamon, and then will she be out of love with Eneas.
DOCTOR.What stuff’s here? pore soule!
IAILOR.Ev’n thus all day long.
DAUGHTER.Now for this Charme, that I told you of: you must bring a peece of silver on the tip of your tongue, or no ferry: then, if it be your chance to come where the blessed spirits, as ther’s a sight now—we maids that have our Lyvers perish’d, crakt to peeces with Love, we shall come there, and doe nothing all day long but picke flowers with Proserpine; then will I make Palamon a Nosegay; then let him marke me,—then—
DOCTOR.How prettily she’s amisse? note her a little further.
DAUGHTER.Faith, ile tell you, sometime we goe to Barly breake, we of the blessed; alas, tis a sore life they have i’th other place, such burning, frying, boyling, hissing, howling, chattring, cursing, oh they have shrowd measure! take heede; if one be mad, or hang or drowne themselves, thither they goe, Iupiter blesse vs, and there shall we be put in a Caldron of lead, and Vsurers grease, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boyle like a Gamon of Bacon that will never be enough. [Exit.]
DOCTOR.How her braine coynes!
DAUGHTER.Lords and Courtiers, that have got maids with Child, they are in this place: they shall stand in fire up to the Nav’le, and in yce up to’th hart, and there th’offending part burnes, and the deceaving part freezes; in troth, a very greevous punishment, as one would thinke, for such a Trifle; beleve me, one would marry a leaprous witch, to be rid on’t, Ile assure you.
DOCTOR.How she continues this fancie! Tis not an engraffed Madnesse, but a most thicke, and profound mellencholly.
DAUGHTER.To heare there a proud Lady, and a proud Citty wiffe, howle together! I were a beast and il’d call it good sport: one cries, ‘O this smoake!’ another, ‘this fire!’ One cries, ‘O, that ever I did it behind the arras!’ and then howles; th’other curses a suing fellow and her garden house. [Sings] I will be true, my stars, my fate, &c. [Exit Daugh.]
IAILOR.What thinke you of her, Sir?
DOCTOR.I thinke she has a perturbed minde, which I cannot minister to.
IAILOR.Alas, what then?
DOCTOR.Vnderstand you, she ever affected any man, ere she beheldPalamon?
IAILOR.I was once, Sir, in great hope she had fixd her liking on this gentleman, my friend.
WOOER.I did thinke so too, and would account I had a great pen-worth on’t, to give halfe my state, that both she and I at this present stood unfainedly on the same tearmes.
DOCTOR.That intemprat surfeit of her eye hath distemperd the other sences: they may returne and settle againe to execute their preordaind faculties, but they are now in a most extravagant vagary. This you must doe: Confine her to a place, where the light may rather seeme to steale in, then be permitted; take vpon you (yong Sir, her friend) the name of Palamon; say you come to eate with her, and to commune of Love; this will catch her attention, for this her minde beates upon; other objects that are inserted tweene her minde and eye become the prankes and friskins of her madnes; Sing to her such greene songs of Love, as she sayes Palamon hath sung in prison; Come to her, stucke in as sweet flowers as the season is mistres of, and thereto make an addition of som other compounded odours, which are grateful to the sence: all this shall become Palamon, for Palamon can sing, and Palamon is sweet, and ev’ry good thing: desire to eate with her, carve her, drinke to her, and still among, intermingle your petition of grace and acceptance into her favour: Learne what Maides have beene her companions and play-pheeres, and let them repaire to her with Palamon in their mouthes, and appeare with tokens, as if they suggested for him. It is a falsehood she is in, which is with falsehood to be combated. This may bring her to eate, to sleepe, and reduce what’s now out of square in her, into their former law, and regiment; I have seene it approved, how many times I know not, but to make the number more, I have great hope in this. I will, betweene the passages of this project, come in with my applyance: Let us put it in execution, and hasten the successe, which, doubt not, will bring forth comfort. [Florish. Exeunt.]