William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

IAILOR.

How did you like her?

DOCTOR.

Ile warrant you, within these 3. or 4. daies

Ile make her right againe. You must not from her,

But still preserve her in this way.

WOOER.

I will.

DOCTOR.

Lets get her in.

WOOER.

Come, sweete, wee’l goe to dinner;

And then weele play at Cardes.

DAUGHTER.

And shall we kisse too?

WOOER.

A hundred times.

DAUGHTER.

And twenty.

WOOER.

I, and twenty.

DAUGHTER.

And then wee’l sleepe together.

DOCTOR.

Take her offer.

WOOER.

Yes, marry, will we.

DAUGHTER.

But you shall not hurt me.

WOOER.

I will not, sweete.

DAUGHTER.

If you doe, Love, ile cry. [Florish. Exeunt]

Scaena 3. (A Place near the Lists.)

[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Perithous: and some Attendants,

(T. Tucke: Curtis.)]

EMILIA.

Ile no step further.

PERITHOUS.

Will you loose this sight?

EMILIA.

I had rather see a wren hawke at a fly

Then this decision; ev’ry blow that falls

Threats a brave life, each stroake laments

The place whereon it fals, and sounds more like

A Bell then blade: I will stay here;

It is enough my hearing shall be punishd

With what shall happen—gainst the which there is

No deaffing, but to heare—not taint mine eye

With dread sights, it may shun.

PERITHOUS.

Sir, my good Lord,

Your Sister will no further.

THESEUS.

Oh, she must.

She shall see deeds of honour in their kinde,

Which sometime show well, pencild. Nature now

Shall make and act the Story, the beleife

Both seald with eye and eare; you must be present,

You are the victours meede, the price, and garlond

To crowne the Questions title.

EMILIA.

Pardon me;

If I were there, I’ld winke.

THESEUS.

You must be there;

This Tryall is as t’wer i’th night, and you

The onely star to shine.

EMILIA.

I am extinct;

There is but envy in that light, which showes

The one the other: darkenes, which ever was

The dam of horrour, who do’s stand accurst

Of many mortall Millions, may even now,

By casting her blacke mantle over both,

That neither coulde finde other, get her selfe

Some part of a good name, and many a murther

Set off wherto she’s guilty.

HIPPOLITA.

You must goe.

EMILIA.

In faith, I will not.

THESEUS.

Why, the knights must kindle

Their valour at your eye: know, of this war

You are the Treasure, and must needes be by

To give the Service pay.

EMILIA.

Sir, pardon me;

The tytle of a kingdome may be tride

Out of it selfe.

THESEUS.

Well, well, then, at your pleasure;

Those that remaine with you could wish their office

To any of their Enemies.

HIPPOLITA.

Farewell, Sister;

I am like to know your husband fore your selfe

By some small start of time: he whom the gods

Doe of the two know best, I pray them he

Be made your Lot.

[Exeunt Theseus, Hipolita, Perithous, &c.]

EMILIA.

Arcite is gently visagd; yet his eye

Is like an Engyn bent, or a sharpe weapon

In a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage

Are bedfellowes in his visage. Palamon

Has a most menacing aspect: his brow

Is grav’d, and seemes to bury what it frownes on;

Yet sometime tis not so, but alters to

The quallity of his thoughts; long time his eye

Will dwell upon his object. Mellencholly

Becomes him nobly; So do’s Arcites mirth,

But Palamons sadnes is a kinde of mirth,

So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad,

And sadnes, merry; those darker humours that

Sticke misbecomingly on others, on them

Live in faire dwelling. [Cornets. Trompets sound as to a

charge.]

Harke, how yon spurs to spirit doe incite

The Princes to their proofe! Arcite may win me,

And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to

The spoyling of his figure. O, what pitty

Enough for such a chance; if I were by,

I might doe hurt, for they would glance their eies

Toward my Seat, and in that motion might

Omit a ward, or forfeit an offence

Which crav’d that very time: it is much better

I am not there; oh better never borne

Then minister to such harme. [Cornets. A great cry and noice within,

crying ‘a Palamon’.] What is the chance?

[Enter Servant.]

SERVANT.

The Crie’s ‘a Palamon’.

EMILIA.

Then he has won! Twas ever likely;

He lookd all grace and successe, and he is

Doubtlesse the prim’st of men: I pre’thee, run

And tell me how it goes. [Showt, and Cornets: Crying, ‘a

Palamon.’]

SERVANT.

Still Palamon.

EMILIA.

Run and enquire. Poore Servant, thou hast lost;

Vpon my right side still I wore thy picture,

Palamons on the left: why so, I know not;

I had no end in’t else, chance would have it so.

On the sinister side the heart lyes; Palamon

Had the best boding chance. [Another cry, and showt within, and

Cornets.] This burst of clamour

Is sure th’end o’th Combat.

[Enter Servant.]

SERVANT.

They saide that Palamon had Arcites body

Within an inch o’th Pyramid, that the cry

Was generall ‘a Palamon’: But, anon,

Th’Assistants made a brave redemption, and

The two bold Tytlers, at this instant are

Hand to hand at it.

EMILIA.

Were they metamorphisd

Both into one! oh why? there were no woman

Worth so composd a Man: their single share,

Their noblenes peculier to them, gives

The prejudice of disparity, values shortnes, [Cornets. Cry within,

Arcite, Arcite.]

To any Lady breathing—More exulting?

Palamon still?

SERVANT.

Nay, now the sound is Arcite.

EMILIA.

I pre’thee, lay attention to the Cry, [Cornets. A great showt and cry, ‘Arcite, victory!’] Set both thine eares to’th busines.

SERVANT.

The cry is

‘Arcite’, and ‘victory’, harke: ‘Arcite, victory!’

The Combats consummation is proclaim’d

By the wind Instruments.

EMILIA.

Halfe sights saw

That Arcite was no babe; god’s lyd, his richnes

And costlines of spirit look’t through him, it could

No more be hid in him then fire in flax,

Then humble banckes can goe to law with waters,

That drift windes force to raging: I did thinke

Good Palamon would miscarry; yet I knew not

Why I did thinke so; Our reasons are not prophets,

When oft our fancies are. They are comming off:

Alas, poore Palamon! [Cornets.]

[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Arcite as victor, and

attendants, &c.]

THESEUS.

Lo, where our Sister is in expectation,

Yet quaking, and unsetled.—Fairest Emily,

The gods by their divine arbitrament

Have given you this Knight; he is a good one

As ever strooke at head. Give me your hands;

Receive you her, you him; be plighted with

A love that growes, as you decay.

ARCITE.

Emily,

To buy you, I have lost what’s deerest to me,

Save what is bought, and yet I purchase cheapely,

As I doe rate your value.

THESEUS.

O loved Sister,

He speakes now of as brave a Knight as ere

Did spur a noble Steed: Surely, the gods

Would have him die a Batchelour, least his race

Should shew i’th world too godlike: His behaviour

So charmed me, that me thought Alcides was

To him a sow of lead: if I could praise

Each part of him to’th all I have spoke, your Arcite

Did not loose by’t; For he that was thus good