EMILIA

No knees to me. What woman I may steed that is distressed, Does bind me to her. If you grant not My Sister her petition in that force, With that Celerity, and nature which She makes it in: from henceforth isle not dare To ask you any thing, nor be so hardy Ever to take a Husband. Thanks Sir; Remember me To our all royal Brother, for whose speed The great isle so licite; and Since in our terrene State petitions are not Without gifts understood: I'll offer to her What I shall be advised she likes; our hea ts Are in his Army in his Tent. How his longing Follows his Friend; since his depart, his sports Though craving seriousness, and skill, passed slightly His careless execution, where nor gain Made him regard, or lose consider, but Playing over business in his hand, another Directing in his head, his mind, nurse equal To these so differing Twyns; have you observed him, Since our great Lord departed? Doubtless There is a best, and reason has no manners To say it is not you: I was acquainted Once with a time, when I enjoyed a Playfellow; You were at wars, when she the grave enrichd, Who made too proud the Bed, took leave o'th Moon (which then looked pale at parting) when our count Was each a eleven. Yes You talk of Pirithous and Theseus love; Theirs has more ground, is more maturely seasons, More buckled with strong Judgement. and their needs The one of the other may be said to water 2. Hearses rea die with Palam mon; and Arci to: the 3. Their intertangled roots of love, but I And she (I sighs and spoke of) were things innocent, Loved for we did, and Like the Elements Queens. Theseus: and his Lords ready. That know not what, nor why, yet do effect Rare issues by their operance; our souls Did so to one another; what she liked, Was then of me approved, what not condemd No more arraignment, the flower that I would pl cke And put between my breasts, o (then but beginning To swell about the blossom) she would long Till she had such another, and commit it To the Like innocent Cradle, where Phoenix Like They died in perfume: on my head no toy But was her pattern, her affections (pretty Though happily, her careless, were, I followed For my most serious decking, had mine care Stolen some new air, or at adventure hummed on From misicall Coynadge, why it was a note Whereon her spirits would sojourn (rather dwell on) And sing it in her slumbers; This reh tsall (Which fury-innocent wots well) comes in Like old importments baftard, h S this end, That the true love tween Maid, and maid, may be More then in sex individual. I am sure I shall not. I am not against your faith, Yet I continue mine. What Flower is this? That was a fair Boy certain, but a fool, To love himself, were there not maids enough? Or were they all hard hearted? Thou wouldst not. That's a good wench: But take heed to your kindness though. Men are mad things. Canst not thou work: such flowers in silk wench? e have a gown full of they and of these, This is a pretty colour, wilt not do Rarely upon a Skirt wench? Of all Flowers. Me thinks a Rose is best. It is the very Emblem of a Maid. For when the west wind courts her gently How modestly she blows, and paints the Sun, With her chaste blushes? When the North comes near her, Rude and impatient, then, Like Chastity She locks her beauty's in her bud again, And leaves him to base briers. Thou art wanton. The Sun grows high, lets walk in, keep these flowers, Weel see how near Art can come near their colours; I am wondrous merry hearted, I could laugh now. And take one with you? Well, agree then. Believe, His mother was a wondrous handsome woman, His face me thinks, goes that way. That were too cruel. If you deserve well Sir; I shall soon see't: Y'ar mine, and somewhat better than your rank I'll use you. That were a shame Sir, While I have horses: take your choice, and what You want at any time, let me but know it; If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you You'll find a loving Mi ris. I hope too wise for that Sir. It and excellent dance, and for a preface I never herd a better. In my face deer Sister I find no anger to they; nor no ruin, The misad venture of their own eyes kill'em; Yet that I will be woman, and have pity, My knees shall grow to'th ground but I'll get mercy. Help me deer Sister, in a deed so virtuous, The powers of all women will be with us, Moft royal Brother. By your own spotless honour. By that you would have pity in another, By your own virtues infi item. By that you would have trembled to deny A blushing Maid. Last let me entreat Sir. Mercy on these Princes. Upon their lives: But with their banishments. Oh my noble Brother, That oath was rashly made, and in your anger, Your reason will not hold it, if such vows Stand for express will, all the world must perish. Beside, I have another oath, gainst yours Of more authority, I am sure more love, Not made in passion neither, but good heed. That you would never deny me any thing Fit for my modest suit, and your free granting: I tie you to your word now, if you fallen in't, Think how you maim your honour; (For now I am set a begging Sir, I am deaf To all but your compassion) how their lives Might breed the ruin of my name; Opinion, Shall any thing that loves me perish for me? That were a cruel wisdom, do men proyne The straight young Bows that blush with thousand Blossom Because they may be rotten? Oh Duke Theseus The goodly Mother's that have groaned for these, And all the longing Maids that ever loved, If your vow stand, shall curse me and my Beauty, And in their funeral songs, for these two Cosens Despise my cruelty, and cry woe worth me, Till I am nothing but the scorn of women; For heavens sake save their lives, and banish they. Sweare'em never more To make me their Contention, or to know me, To tread upon thy Duke dome, and to be Where ever they shall travel, ever strangers to one another. I cannot Sir, they are both too excellent For me, a hair shall never fallen of these men. Yes, I must Sir, Else both miscarry. How now Sir? To end the quarrel? Would I might end first: What sins have I committed, chased Diana, That my unspotted youth must now be soiled With blood of Princes? and my Chastity Be made the Altar, where the lives of Lovers, Two greater, and two better never yet Made mother's joy, must be the sacrifice To my unhappy Beauty? I had rather both, So neither for my sake should fallen untimely Must these men die too? I'll no step further. I had rather see a wren hawk at a fly Then this decision every; blow that falls Threats a brave life, each str ache laments The place whereon it falls, and sounds more Like A Bell, then blade: I will stay here, It is enough my hearing shall be punished, With what shall happen, gainst the which there is No deaffing, but to hear; not taint mine eye With dread sights, it may shun. Pardon me, If I were there, I'd wink I am extinct, There is but envy in that light, which shows The one the other: darkness which ever was The dam of horror, who do's stand accursed Of many mortal Millions, may even now By casting her black mantle over both That neither could find other, get her self Some partly of a good name, and many a murder Set off whereto she's guilty. Arcite is gently visagd; yet his eye Is Like and Engine bent, or a sharp weapon In a sost sheath; mercy, and manly courage Are bedfellows in his visage: Palamon Has a most menacing aspect, his brow Is graved, and seems to bury what it frowns on, Yet sometime 'tis not so, but alters to The quality of his thoughts; long time his eye Will dwell upon his object. Mellencholly Becomes him nobly; So do's Arcites mirth, But Palamons sadness is a kind of mirth, So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad, And sadness, merry; those darker humours that Stick misbecomingly on others, on them Live in fair dwelling. Cornets. Trumpets found as to a charge. Hark how you spurs to spirit do incite The Princes to their proof, Arcite may win me, And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to The spoiling of his figure. Oh what pity Enough for such a chance; if I were by I might do hurt, for they would glance their eyes Towards my Seat, and in that motion might Omit a ward, or forfeit and offence Which craved that very time: it is much better (Cornets. a great cry and noise within crying a Palamon.) I am not there, o better never born Then minister to such harm, what is the chance? Then he has wone: It ever likely, He looked all grace and success, and he is Doubtless the prim'st of men: I prithee run And tell me how it goes. Run and inquire, poor Servant thou hast lost, Upon my right side still I wore thy picture, Palamons on the le , why so, I know not, I had no end in't; else chance would have it so. Another cry, and shout within, and Cornets. On the sinister side, the heart lies; Palamon Had the best boding chance: This burst of clamour Is sure th'end o'th Combat. Were they metamorphisd Both into one; o why? there were no woman Worth so composed a Man: their single share, Their nobleness peculiar to the , gives The prejudice of disparity value's shortness Cornets. Cry within, Arcite, Arcite. To any Lady breathing — More exulting? Palamon still? I prithee lay attention to the Cry. Cornets. a great sho to and cry, Arcite, victory. Set both thine ears to'th business. Half sights saw That Arcite was no babe: god's lid, his richness And costliness of spirit look't through him, it could No more be hid in him, then fire in flax, Then humble banks can go to law with waters, That drift winds, force to raging: I did think Good Palamon would miscarry, yet I knew not Why I did think so; Our reasons are not prophets When oft our fancies are: They are coming off: Alas poor Palamon. Pray stand up, Your grief is written in your check. He is so. Yet I may bind those wounds up, that must open And bleed to death for my sake else; I'll choose, And end their strife: Two such young handsome men Shall never fallen for me, their weeping Mother's, Following the dead cold ashes of their Sons Shall never curse my cruelty: Good heaven, What a sweet face has Arcite? if wise nature With all her best endowments, all those beauties She sows into the births of noble bodies, Were here a mortal woman, and had in her The coy denials of young Maids, yet doubtless, She would run mad for this man: what and eye? Of what a fyry sparkle, and quick sweetness, Has this young Prince? Here Love himself sits smiling, Just such another wanton Ganimead, Set Love a fire with, and enforced the God Snatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by him A shining constellation: What a brow, Of what a spacious Majesty he carries? Arched Like the great eyed Juno's, but far sweeter, Smoother then Pelops Shoulder? Fame and honour Mc thinks from hence, as from a Promontory Pointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and sing To all the under world, the Loves, and Fights Of gods, and sueh men neere'em. Palamon, Is but his foil, to him, a mere dull shadow, He's swarth, and meager, of and eye as heavy As if he had lost his mother; a still temper, No stirring in him, no alacrity, Of all this sprightly sharpness, not a smile; Yet these that we count errors may become him: Narcissu was a sad Boy, but a heavenly: O who can find the bent of woman's fancy? I am a Fool, my reason is lost in me, I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly That women ought to beat me. On my knees I ask thy pardon: Palamon, thou art alone, And only beautiful, and these the eyes, These the bright lamps of beauty, that command And threaten Love, and what young Maid dare cross they What a bold gravity, and yet inviting Has this brown manly face? Oh Love, this only From this hour is Complexion: Lie there Arcite, Thou art a changeling to him, a mere Gipsy. And this the noble Body: I am sotted, Utterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me. For if my brother but even now had asked me Whither I loved, I had run mad for Arcite, Now if my Sister; More for Palamon, Stand both together: Now, come ask me Brother, Alas, I know not: ask me now sweet Sister, I may go look; What a mere child is Pancy, That having two fair gawdes of equal sweetness, Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both. Poor wench go weep, for whosoever wins, Looses a noble Cousin, for thy sins. Oh sacred, sh dowie, cold and constant Queen, Abandoner of Revels, mute contemplative, Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure As windefand Snow, who to thy female knights Alow'st no more blood than will make a blush, Which is their order robe. I here thy Priest Am humbled before thine Altar, Oh vouchsafe With that thy rare green eye, which never yet Behe worser thing maculate, look on thy virgin, And sacred silver Mistress, lend him ear (Which herd scurrill term, into whose port Never entered wanton found,) to my petition Seasond with h ho y fear; This is my last Of vestal office, I am habited, But maid n hearted, a husband I have poin ed, But do not know him out of two, I should Choose one, and pray for his success, but I Am guiltless of election of mine eyes, Were I to lose one, they are equal precious, I could doombe neither, that which perished should Go too't unsentenced: Therefore most modest Queen, He of the two Pretenders, that best loves me And has the truest ti in't, Let him Take off my wheaten Gerland, or else grant The file and qualitiel hold, I may Continue in thy Band. Here the Hind vanishes under the Altar: and in the place ascends a Rose Tr e, having one Rose upon it. See what our General of Ebbs and Flows Out from the bowels of her holy Altar With sacred act advances: But one Rose, If well inspired, this Battle shall confound Both these brave Knights, and I a virgin flower Must grow alone unpl ck'd. Here is herd sudden twang of Instruments, and the Rose falls from the Tree. The flower is fallen, the Tree descends: Oh Mistress Thou here dischargest me, I shall be gathered, I think so, but I know not thine own will; Unclasp thy Mystery: I hope she's pleased, Her Signs were gracious. Pray you say nothing, pray you, Who cannot feel, nor see the rain being in't, Knows neither wet, nor dry, if that you were Though ground-peece of foam Painter, I would buy you Instruct me gainst a Capital grief indeed Such heart pierced demonstration; but alas Being a natural Si ter of our Sex Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me, That it shall make a counter reflect gainst My Brother's heart, and warm it to some pity Though it were made of stone: pray have good comfort. In faith I will not. Sir pardon me, The title of a kingdom may be tried Out of it self. Is this Winning? O all you heavenly powers where is you mercy? But that your wills have said 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.