to our purpose. What ere her Father saies, if you perceave Her moode inclining that way that I spoke of, Videlicet, the way of flesh--you have me? WOOER. Yet, very well, Sir. DOCTOR. Please her appetite, And doe it home; it cures her, ipso facto, The mellencholly humour that infects her. WOOER. I am of your minde, Doctor. [Enter Iaylor, Daughter, Maide.] DOCTOR. You'l finde it so; she comes, pray humour her. IAILOR. Come, your Love Palamon staies for you, childe, And has done this long houre, to visite you. DAUGHTER. I thanke him for his gentle patience; He's a kind Gentleman, and I am much bound to him. Did you nev'r see the horse he gave me? IAILOR. Yes. DAUGHTER. How doe you like him? IAILOR. He's a very faire one. DAUGHTER. You never saw him dance? IAILOR. No. DAUGHTER. I have often. He daunces very finely, very comely, And for a Iigge, come cut and long taile to him, He turnes ye like a Top. IAILOR. That's fine, indeede. DAUGHTER. Hee'l dance the Morris twenty mile an houre, And that will founder the best hobby-horse (If I have any skill) in all the parish, And gallops to the turne of LIGHT A' LOVE: What thinke you of this horse? IAILOR. Having these vertues, I thinke he might be broght to play at Tennis. DAUGHTER. Alas, that's nothing. IAILOR. Can he write and reade too? DAUGHTER. A very faire hand, and casts himselfe th'accounts Of all his hay and provender: That Hostler Must rise betime that cozens him. You know The Chestnut Mare the Duke has? IAILOR. Very well. DAUGHTER. She is horribly in love with him, poore beast, But he is like his master, coy and scornefull. IAILOR. What dowry has she? DAUGHTER. Some two hundred Bottles, And twenty strike of Oates; but hee'l ne're have her; He lispes in's neighing, able to entice A Millars Mare: Hee'l be the death of her. DOCTOR. What stuffe she utters! IAILOR. Make curtsie; here your love comes. WOOER. Pretty soule, How doe ye? that's a fine maide, ther's a curtsie! DAUGHTER. Yours to command ith way of honestie. How far is't now to'th end o'th world, my Masters? DOCTOR. Why, a daies Iorney, wench. DAUGHTER. Will you goe with me? WOOER. What shall we doe there, wench? DAUGHTER. Why, play at stoole ball: What is there else to doe? WOOER. I am content, If we shall keepe our wedding there. DAUGHTER. Tis true: For there, I will assure you, we shall finde Some blind Priest for the purpose, that will venture To marry us, for here they are nice, and foolish; Besides, my father must be hang'd to morrow And that would be a blot i'th businesse. Are not you Palamon? WOOER. Doe not you know me? DAUGHTER. Yes, but you care not for me; I have nothing But this pore petticoate, and too corse Smockes. WOOER. That's all one; I will have you. DAUGHTER. Will you surely? WOOER. Yes, by this faire hand, will I. DAUGHTER. Wee'l to bed, then. WOOER. Ev'n when you will. [Kisses her.] DAUGHTER. O Sir, you would faine be nibling. WOOER. Why doe you rub my kisse off? DAUGHTER. Tis a sweet one, And will perfume me finely against the wedding. Is not this your Cosen Arcite? DOCTOR. Yes, sweet heart, And I am glad my Cosen Palamon Has made so faire a choice. DAUGHTER. Doe you thinke hee'l have me? DOCTOR. Yes, without doubt. DAUGHTER. Doe you thinke so too? IAILOR. Yes. DAUGHTER. We shall have many children:--Lord, how y'ar growne! My Palamon, I hope, will grow, too, finely, Now he's at liberty: Alas, poore Chicken, He was kept downe with hard meate and ill lodging, But ile kisse him up againe. [Emter a Messenger.] MESSENGER. What doe you here? you'l loose the noblest sight That ev'r was seene. IAILOR. Are they i'th Field? MESSENGER. They are. You beare a charge there too. IAILOR. Ile away straight. I must ev'n leave you here. DOCTOR. Nay, wee'l goe with you; I will not loose the Fight. 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 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! THESEUS. Never Fortune Did play a subtler Game: The conquerd triumphes, The victor has the Losse: yet in the passage The gods have beene most equall: Palamon, Your kinseman hath confest the right o'th Lady Did lye in you, for you first saw her, and Even then proclaimd your fancie: He restord her As your stolne Iewell, and desir'd your spirit To send him hence forgiven; The gods my justice Take from my hand, and they themselves become The Executioners: Leade your Lady off; And call your Lovers from the stage of death, Whom I adopt my Frinds. A day or two Let us looke sadly, and give grace unto The Funerall of Arcite; in whose end The visages of Bridegroomes weele put on And smile with Palamon; for whom an houre, But one houre, since, I was as dearely sorry, As glad of Arcite: and am now as glad, As for him sorry. O you heavenly Charmers, What things you make of us! For what we lacke We laugh, for what we have, are sorry: still Are children in some kind. Let us be thankefull For that which is, and with you leave dispute That are above our question. Let's goe off, And beare us like the time. [Florish. Exeunt.] EPILOGVE I would now aske ye how ye like the Play, But, as it is with Schoole Boyes, cannot say, I am cruell fearefull: pray, yet stay a while, And let me looke upon ye: No man smile? Then it goes hard, I see; He that has Lov'd a yong hansome wench, then, show his face-- Tis strange if none be heere--and if he will Against his Conscience, let him hisse, and kill Our Market: Tis in vaine, I see, to stay yee; Have at the worst can come, then! Now what say ye? And yet mistake me not: I am not bold; We have no such cause. If the tale we have told (For tis no other) any way content ye (For to that honest purpose it was ment ye) We have our end; and ye shall have ere long, I dare say, many a better, to prolong Your old loves to us: we, and all our might Rest at your service. Gentlemen, good night. [Florish.] FINIS