William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Encountred yet his Better. I have heard

Two emulous Philomels beate the eare o’th night

With their contentious throates, now one the higher,

Anon the other, then againe the first,

And by and by out breasted, that the sence

Could not be judge betweene ‘em: So it far’d

Good space betweene these kinesmen; till heavens did

Make hardly one the winner. Weare the Girlond

With joy that you have won: For the subdude,

Give them our present Iustice, since I know

Their lives but pinch ‘em; Let it here be done.

The Sceane’s not for our seeing, goe we hence,

Right joyfull, with some sorrow.—Arme your prize,

I know you will not loose her.—Hipolita,

I see one eye of yours conceives a teare

The which it will deliver. [Florish.]

EMILIA.

Is this wynning?

Oh all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy?

But that your wils have saide it must be so,

And charge me live to comfort this unfriended,

This miserable Prince, that cuts away

A life more worthy from him then all women,

I should, and would, die too.

HIPPOLITA.

Infinite pitty,

That fowre such eies should be so fixd on one

That two must needes be blinde fort.

THESEUS.

So it is. [Exeunt.]

Scaena 4. (The same; a Block prepared.)

[Enter Palamon and his Knightes pyniond: Iaylor, Executioner, &c. Gard.]

(PALAMON.)

Ther’s many a man alive that hath out liv’d

The love o’th people; yea, i’th selfesame state

Stands many a Father with his childe; some comfort

We have by so considering: we expire

And not without mens pitty. To live still,

Have their good wishes; we prevent

The loathsome misery of age, beguile

The Gowt and Rheume, that in lag howres attend

For grey approachers; we come towards the gods

Yong and unwapper’d, not halting under Crymes

Many and stale: that sure shall please the gods,

Sooner than such, to give us Nectar with ‘em,

For we are more cleare Spirits. My deare kinesmen,

Whose lives (for this poore comfort) are laid downe,

You have sould ‘em too too cheape.

1. KNIGHT.

What ending could be

Of more content? ore us the victors have

Fortune, whose title is as momentary,

As to us death is certaine: A graine of honour

They not ore’-weigh us.

2. KNIGHT.

Let us bid farewell;

And with our patience anger tottring Fortune,

Who at her certain’st reeles.

3. KNIGHT.

Come; who begins?

PALAMON.

Ev’n he that led you to this Banket shall

Taste to you all.—Ah ha, my Friend, my Friend,

Your gentle daughter gave me freedome once;

You’l see’t done now for ever: pray, how do’es she?

I heard she was not well; her kind of ill

Gave me some sorrow.

IAILOR.

Sir, she’s well restor’d,

And to be marryed shortly.

PALAMON.

By my short life,

I am most glad on’t; Tis the latest thing

I shall be glad of; pre’thee tell her so:

Commend me to her, and to peece her portion,

Tender her this. [Gives purse.]

1. KNIGHT.

Nay lets be offerers all.

2. KNIGHT.

Is it a maide?

PALAMON.

Verily, I thinke so,

A right good creature, more to me deserving

Then I can quight or speake of.

ALL KNIGHTS.

Commend us to her. [They give their purses.]

IAILOR.

The gods requight you all,

And make her thankefull.

PALAMON.

Adiew; and let my life be now as short,

As my leave taking. [Lies on the Blocke.]

1. KNIGHT.

Leade, couragious Cosin.

2. KNIGHT.

Wee’l follow cheerefully. [A great noise within crying, ‘run, save, hold!’]

[Enter in hast a Messenger.]

MESSENGER.

Hold, hold! O hold, hold, hold!

[Enter Pirithous in haste.]

PERITHOUS.

Hold! hoa! It is a cursed hast you made,

If you have done so quickly. Noble Palamon,

The gods will shew their glory in a life,

That thou art yet to leade.

PALAMON.

Can that be,

When Venus, I have said, is false? How doe things fare?

PERITHOUS.

Arise, great Sir, and give the tydings eare

That are most dearly sweet and bitter.

PALAMON.

What

Hath wakt us from our dreame?

PERITHOUS.

List then: your Cosen,

Mounted upon a Steed that Emily

Did first bestow on him, a blacke one, owing

Not a hayre worth of white—which some will say

Weakens his price, and many will not buy

His goodnesse with this note: Which superstition

Heere findes allowance—On this horse is Arcite

Trotting the stones of Athens, which the Calkins

Did rather tell then trample; for the horse

Would make his length a mile, if’t pleas’d his Rider

To put pride in him: as he thus went counting

The flinty pavement, dancing, as t’wer, to’th Musicke

His owne hoofes made; (for as they say from iron

Came Musickes origen) what envious Flint,

Cold as old Saturne, and like him possest

With fire malevolent, darted a Sparke,

Or what feirce sulphur else, to this end made,

I comment not;—the hot horse, hot as fire,

Tooke Toy at this, and fell to what disorder

His power could give his will; bounds, comes on end,

Forgets schoole dooing, being therein traind,

And of kind mannadge; pig-like he whines

At the sharpe Rowell, which he freats at rather

Then any jot obaies; seekes all foule meanes

Of boystrous and rough Iadrie, to dis-seate

His Lord, that kept it bravely: when nought serv’d,

When neither Curb would cracke, girth breake nor diffring plunges

Dis-roote his Rider whence he grew, but that

He kept him tweene his legges, on his hind hoofes on end he stands,

That Arcites leggs, being higher then his head,

Seem’d with strange art to hand: His victors wreath

Even then fell off his head: and presently

Backeward the Iade comes ore, and his full poyze

Becomes the Riders loade: yet is he living,

But such a vessell tis, that floates but for

The surge that next approaches: he much desires

To have some speech with you: Loe he appeares.

[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Arcite in a chaire.]

PALAMON.

O miserable end of our alliance!

The gods are mightie, Arcite: if thy heart,

Thy worthie, manly heart, be yet unbroken,

Give me thy last words; I am Palamon,

One that yet loves thee dying.

ARCITE.

Take Emilia

And with her all the worlds joy: Reach thy hand:

Farewell: I have told my last houre. I was false,

Yet never treacherous: Forgive me, Cosen:—

One kisse from faire Emilia: Tis done:

Take her: I die.

PALAMON.

Thy brave soule seeke Elizium.

EMILIA.

Ile close thine eyes, Prince; blessed soules be with thee!

Thou art a right good man, and while I live,

This day I give to teares.

PALAMON.

And I to honour.

THESEUS.

In this place first you fought: ev’n very here

I sundred you: acknowledge to the gods

Our thankes that you are living.

His part is playd, and though it were too short,

He did it well: your day is lengthned, and

The blissefull dew of heaven do’s arowze you.

The powerfull Venus well hath grac’d her Altar,

And given you your love: Our Master Mars

Hath vouch’d his Oracle, and to Arcite gave

The grace of the Contention: So the Deities

Have shewd due justice: Beare this hence.

PALAMON.

O Cosen,

That we should things desire, which doe cost us

The losse of our desire! That nought could buy

Deare love, but losse of deare love!