William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

That were there ought in me which strove to show

Mine enemy in this businesse, wer’t one eye

Against another, Arme opprest by Arme,

I would destroy th’offender, Coz, I would,

Though parcell of my selfe: Then from this gather

How I should tender you.

ARCITE.

I am in labour

To push your name, your auncient love, our kindred

Out of my memory; and i’th selfe same place

To seate something I would confound: So hoyst we

The sayles, that must these vessells port even where

The heavenly Lymiter pleases.

PALAMON.

You speake well;

Before I turne, Let me embrace thee, Cosen:

This I shall never doe agen.

ARCITE.

One farewell.

PALAMON.

Why, let it be so: Farewell, Coz. [Exeunt Palamon and his

Knights.]

ARCITE.

Farewell, Sir.—

Knights, Kinsemen, Lovers, yea, my Sacrifices,

True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you

Expells the seedes of feare, and th’apprehension

Which still is farther off it, Goe with me

Before the god of our profession: There

Require of him the hearts of Lyons, and

The breath of Tigers, yea, the fearcenesse too,

Yea, the speed also,—to goe on, I meane,

Else wish we to be Snayles: you know my prize

Must be drag’d out of blood; force and great feate

Must put my Garland on, where she stickes

The Queene of Flowers: our intercession then

Must be to him that makes the Campe a Cestron

Brymd with the blood of men: give me your aide

And bend your spirits towards him. [They kneele.]

Thou mighty one, that with thy power hast turnd

Greene Neptune into purple, (whose Approach)

Comets prewarne, whose havocke in vaste Feild

Vnearthed skulls proclaime, whose breath blowes downe,

The teeming Ceres foyzon, who doth plucke

With hand armypotent from forth blew clowdes

The masond Turrets, that both mak’st and break’st

The stony girthes of Citties: me thy puple,

Yongest follower of thy Drom, instruct this day

With military skill, that to thy lawde

I may advance my Streamer, and by thee,

Be stil’d the Lord o’th day: give me, great Mars,

Some token of thy pleasure.

[Here they fall on their faces as formerly, and there is heard

clanging of Armor, with a short Thunder as the burst of a

Battaile,

whereupon they all rise and bow to the Altar.]

O Great Corrector of enormous times,

Shaker of ore-rank States, thou grand decider

Of dustie and old tytles, that healst with blood

The earth when it is sicke, and curst the world

O’th pluresie of people; I doe take

Thy signes auspiciously, and in thy name

To my designe march boldly. Let us goe. [Exeunt.]

[Enter Palamon and his Knights, with the former observance.]

PALAMON.

Our stars must glister with new fire, or be

To daie extinct; our argument is love,

Which if the goddesse of it grant, she gives

Victory too: then blend your spirits with mine,

You, whose free noblenesse doe make my cause

Your personall hazard; to the goddesse Venus

Commend we our proceeding, and implore

Her power unto our partie. [Here they kneele as formerly.]

Haile, Soveraigne Queene of secrets, who hast power

To call the feircest Tyrant from his rage,

And weepe unto a Girle; that ha’st the might,

Even with an ey-glance, to choke Marsis Drom

And turne th’allarme to whispers; that canst make

A Criple florish with his Crutch, and cure him

Before Apollo; that may’st force the King

To be his subjects vassaile, and induce

Stale gravitie to daunce; the pould Bachelour—

Whose youth, like wonton Boyes through Bonfyres,

Have skipt thy flame—at seaventy thou canst catch

And make him, to the scorne of his hoarse throate,

Abuse yong laies of love: what godlike power

Hast thou not power upon? To Phoebus thou

Add’st flames hotter then his; the heavenly fyres

Did scortch his mortall Son, thine him; the huntresse

All moyst and cold, some say, began to throw

Her Bow away, and sigh. Take to thy grace

Me, thy vowd Souldier, who doe beare thy yoke

As t’wer a wreath of Roses, yet is heavier

Then Lead it selfe, stings more than Nettles.

I have never beene foule mouthd against thy law,

Nev’r reveald secret, for I knew none—would not,

Had I kend all that were; I never practised

Vpon mans wife, nor would the Libells reade

Of liberall wits; I never at great feastes

Sought to betray a Beautie, but have blush’d

At simpring Sirs that did; I have beene harsh

To large Confessors, and have hotly ask’d them

If they had Mothers: I had one, a woman,

And women t’wer they wrong’d. I knew a man

Of eightie winters, this I told them, who

A Lasse of foureteene brided; twas thy power

To put life into dust; the aged Crampe

Had screw’d his square foote round,

The Gout had knit his fingers into knots,

Torturing Convulsions from his globie eyes,

Had almost drawne their spheeres, that what was life

In him seem’d torture: this Anatomie

Had by his yong faire pheare a Boy, and I

Beleev’d it was him, for she swore it was,

And who would not beleeve her? briefe, I am

To those that prate and have done no Companion;

To those that boast and have not a defyer;

To those that would and cannot a Rejoycer.

Yea, him I doe not love, that tells close offices

The fowlest way, nor names concealements in

The boldest language: such a one I am,

And vow that lover never yet made sigh

Truer then I. O, then, most soft, sweet goddesse,

Give me the victory of this question, which

Is true loves merit, and blesse me with a signe

Of thy great pleasure.

[Here Musicke is heard, Doves are seene to flutter; they fall

againe upon their faces, then on their knees.]

PALAMON.

O thou, that from eleven to ninetie raign’st

In mortall bosomes, whose chase is this world,

And we in heards thy game: I give thee thankes

For this faire Token, which, being layd unto

Mine innocent true heart, armes in assurance [They bow.]

My body to this businesse. Let us rise

And bow before the goddesse: Time comes on. [Exeunt.]

[Still Musicke of Records.]

[Enter Emilia in white, her haire about her shoulders, (wearing) a wheaten wreath: One in white holding up her traine, her haire stucke with flowers: One before her carrying a silver Hynde, in which is conveyd Incense and sweet odours, which being set upon the Altar (of Diana) her maides standing a loofe, she sets fire to it; then they curtsey and kneele.]

EMILIA.

O sacred, shadowie, cold and constant Queene,

Abandoner of Revells, mute, contemplative,

Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure

As windefand Snow, who to thy femall knights

Alow’st no more blood than will make a blush,

Which is their orders robe: I heere, thy Priest,

Am humbled fore thine Altar; O vouchsafe,

With that thy rare greene eye, which never yet

Beheld thing maculate, looke on thy virgin;

And, sacred silver Mistris, lend thine eare

(Which nev’r heard scurrill terme, into whose port

Ne’re entred wanton found,) to my petition

Seasond with holy feare: This is my last

Of vestall office; I am bride habited,

But mayden harted, a husband I have pointed,

But doe not know him; out of two I should

Choose one and pray for his successe, but I

Am guiltlesse of election: of mine eyes,

Were I to loose one, they are equall precious,

I could doombe neither, that which perish’d should