Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima

Enter Urania and her Woman

 
Uran.
What hast thou found him?
 
 
Wo. Madam, he is coming in.
 
 
Uran. Gods bless my brother, wheresoe'er he is:
And I beseech you keep me fro the bed
Of any naughty Tyrant, whom my Mother
Would ha me have to wrong him.
 

Enter Ismenus

 
Isme. What would her new Grace have with me?
 
 
Ura. Leave us a while. My Lord Ismenus,
 

[Exit[Wom.]

 
I pray for the love of Heaven and God,
That you would tell me one thing, which I know
You can do weell.
 
 
Isme. Where's her fain Grace?
 
 
Ura. You know me well inough, but that you mock, I am she my sen.
 
 
Isme. God bless him that shall be thy husband, if thou wear'st [breeches] thus soon, thou'lt be as impudent as thy Mother.
 
 
Ura. But will you tell me this one thing?
 
 
Ism. What is't? if it be no great matter whether I do or no, perhaps I will.
 
 
Ura. Yes faith, 'tis matter.
 
 
Ism. And what is't?
 
 
Ura. I pray you let me know whaire the Prince my Brother is.
 
 
Ism. I'faith you shan be hang'd first, is your Mother so foolish to think your good Grace can sift it out of me?
 
 
Ura. If you have any mercy left i' you to a poor wench, tell me.
 
 
Ism. Why wouldst [not thou] have thy brains beat out for this, to follow thy Mothers steps so young?
 
 
Ura. But believe me, she knows none of this.
 
 
Ism. Believe you? why do you think I never had wits? or that I am run out of them? how should it belong to you to know, if I could tell?
 
 
Ura. Why I will tell you, and if I speak false
Let the devil ha me: yonder's a bad man,
Come from a Tyrant to my Mother, and what name
They ha' for him, good faith I cannot tell.
 
 
Isme. An Ambassador.
 
 
Ura. That's it: but he would carry me away,
And have me marry his Master; and I'll day
E'r I will ha' him.
 
 
Ism. But what's this to knowing where the Prince is?
 
 
Ura. Yes: for you know all my Mother does:
Agen the Prince is but to ma me great.
 
 
Ism. Pray, I know that too well, what ten?
 
 
Ura. Why I [w]ould goe to the good Marquis my
Brother, and put my self into his hands, that so
He may preserve himself.
 
 
Ism. Oh that thou hadst no seed of thy Mother in thee, and couldst mean this now.
 
 
Ura. Why feth I do, wou'd I might ne'er stir more if I do not.
Ism. I shall prove a ridiculous fool, I'll be damn'd else: hang me if I do not half believe thee.
 
 
Ura. By my troth you may.
 
 
Ism. By my troth I doe: I know I'm an Ass for't, But I cannot help it.
 
 
Ura. And won you tell me then?
 
 
Ism. Yes faith will I, or any thing else i'th' world: for I think thou art as good a creature as ever was born.
 
 
Ura. But ail goe i' this ladst [reparrell]: But you mun help me to Silver.
 
 
Ism. Help thee? why the pox take him that will not help thee to any thing i'th' world, I'll help thee to Money, and I'll do't presently too, and yet soul, If you should play the scurvy Harlotry little pocky baggage now and cosin me, what then?
 
 
Ura. Why, an I do, wou'd I might ne'r see day agen.
 
 
Ism. Nay, by this light, I do not think thou wilt: I'll presently provide thee Money and a Letter.
 

[Exit Ism.

 
Ura. I, but I'll ne'er deliver it.
When I have found my Brother, I will beg
To serve him; but he shall never know who I am:
For he must hate me then for my bad mother:
I'll say I am a Countrey Lad that want a service,
And have straid on him by chance, lest he discover me;
I know I must not live long, but that taime
I ha' to spend, shall be in serving him.
And though my Mother seek to take his life away,
In ai day my brother shall be taught
That I was ever good, though she were naught.
 

[Exit.

Enter Bacha and Timantus: Bacha reading a Letter

 
Bac. Run away, the Devil be her guide.
 
 
Tim. Faith she's gone: there's a Letter, I found it in her pocket, would I were with her, she's a handsome Lady, a plague upon my bashfulness, I had bobb'd her long ago else.
 
 
Bach. What a base whore is this, that after all
My ways for her advancement, should so poorly
Make virtue her undoer, and choose this time,
The King being deadly sick, and I intending
A present marriage with some forreign Prince,
To strengthen and secure my self. She writes here
Like a wise Gentlewoman, She will not stay:
And the example of her dear brother, makes her
Fear her self, to whom she means to flie.
 
 
Tim. Why, who can help it?
 
 
Bac. Now Poverty and Lechery, which is thy end, rot thee, where e'er thou goest with all thy goodness.
 
 
Timan. Berlady they'll bruze her: and she were of brass. I am sure they'll break stone Walls: I have had experience of them both, and they have made me desperate: but there's a messenger, Madam, come from the Prince with a Letter to Ismenus, who by him returns an answer.
 
 
Bac. This comes as pat as wishes: thou shalt presently away Timantus.
 
 
Tim. Whither Madam?
 
 
Ba. To the Prince, and take the Messenger for guide.
 
 
Tim. What shall I do there? I have done too much mischief to be believ'd again; or indeed, to scape with my head on my back, if I be once known.
 
 
Bac. Thou art a weak shallow fool: get thee a disguise, and withal, when thou com'st before him, have a Letter fain'd to deliver him: and then, as thou hast ever hope of goodness by me, or after me, strike one home stroke that shall not need another: dar'st thou speak, dar'st thou? if thou fall'st off, go be a Rogue again, and lie and pander to procure thy meat: dar'st thou speak to me?
 
 
Tim. Sure I shall never walk when I am dead: I have no spirit, Madam, I'll be drunk but I'll do it, that's all my refuge.
 

[Exit.

 
Bac. Away, no more, then I'll raise an Army whilst the King yet lives, if all the means and power I have can do it, I cannot tell.
 

Enter Ismenus and three Lords

 
Ism. Are you inventing still? we'll ease your studies.
 
 
Bac. Why how now saucy Lords?
 
 
Ism. Nay, I'll shake ye; yes devil, I will shake ye.
 
 
Bac. Do not you know me Lords?
 
 
Nis. Yes deadly sin we know ye, would we did not.
 
 
Ism. Doe you hear whore, a plague a God upon thee, the Duke is dead.
 
 
Bach. Dead!
 
 
Ism. I, wild-fire and brimstone take thee: good man he is dead, and past those miseries which thou, salt infection-like; like a disease flungst upon his head. Dost thou hear, and 'twere not more respect [to] Womanhood in general than thee, because I had a Mother, who I will not say she was good, she liv'd so near thy time, I would have thee in vengeance of this man, whose peace is made in heaven by this time, tied to a post; and dried i' th' sun, and after carried about, and shewn at Fairs for money, with a long story of the devil thy father, that taught thee to be whorish, envious, bloudy.
 
 
Bac. Ha, ha, ha.
 
 
Ism. You fleering harlot, I'll have a horse to leap thee, and thy base issue shall carry Sumpters. Come Lords, bring her along, we'll to the Prince all, where her hell-hood shall wait his censure; and if he spare the[e] she-Goat, may he lie with thee again: and beside, maist thou lay upon him some nasty foul disease, that hate still follows, and his end a dry ditch. Lead you corrupted whore, or I'll draw a goad shall make you skip: away to the Prince.
 
 
Bac. [Ha] ha, ha, I hope yet I shall come too late to find him.
 
 
Cornets. Cupid from above.
 

Enter Leucippus, Urania: Leucippus with a bloody Handkerchief

 
Leu. Alas poor boy, why dost thou follow me?
What canst thou hope for? I am poor as thou art.
 
 
Ura. In good feth I shall be weel and rich enough
If you will love me, and not put me from you.
 
 
Leu. Why dost thou choose out me Boy to undo thee?
Alas, for pitty take another Master,
That may be able to deserve thy love
In breeding thee hereafter: me thou knowest not,
More than my misery: and therefore canst not
Look for rewards at my hands: would I were able
My pretty knave, to doe thee any kindness: truly
Good Boy, I would upon my faith, thy harmless
Innocence moves me at heart: wilt thou goe
Save thy self; why dost thou weep?
Alas, I do not chide thee.
 
 
Ura. I cannot tell if I go from you; Sir, I shall ne'er dawn day more: Pray if you can, I will be true to you: Let me wait on you: if I were a man, I would fight for you: Sure you have some ill-willers, I would slay [u]m.
 
 
Leu. Such harmless souls are ever Prophets: well, I take thy wish, thou shalt be with me still: But prethee eat, [then] my good boy: Thou wilt die my child if thou fast one day more. This four daies thou hast tasted nothing: Goe into the Cave and eat: thou shalt find something for thee, to bring thy bloud again, and thy fair colour.
 
 
Ura. I cannot eat, God thank you. But I'll eat to morrow.
 
 
Leu. Thou't be dead by that time.
 
 
Ura. I should be well then, for you will not love me.
 
 
Leu. Indeed I will. This is the prettiest passion that e'er I felt yet: why dost thou look so earnestly upon me?
 
 
Ura. You have fair eyes Master.
 
 
Leu. Sure the boy dotes: why dost thou sigh my child?
 
 
Ura. To think that such a fine man should live, and no gay Lady love him.
 
 
Leu. Thou wilt love me?
 
 
Ura. Yes sure till I die, and when I am in heaven, I'll e'en wish for you.
 
 
Leu. And I'll come to thee boy. This is a Love I never yet heard tell of: come, thou art sleepy child; goe in, and I'll sit with thee: heaven what portends this?
 
 
Ura. You are sad, but I am not sleepy, would I could do ought to make you merry: shall I sing?
 
 
Leu. If thou wilt good Boy. Alas my boy, that thou shouldst comfort me, and art far worse than I!
 

Enter Timantus with a Letter disguised

 
Ura. Law Master, there's one, look to your [sen.]
 
 
Leu. What art thou that in this dismal place,
Which nothing could find out but misery,
Thus boldly stepst? Comfort was never here,
Here is no food, nor beds, nor any house
Built by a better Architect than beasts;
And e'r you get dwelling from one of them,
You must fight for it: if you conquer him,
He is your meat: if not, you must be his.
 
 
Tim. I come to you (for if I not mistake, you are the
Prince) from that most Noble Lord Ismenus with a Letter.
 
 
Ura. Alas, I fear I shall be discover'd now.
 
 
Leu. Now I feel my self the poorest of all mortal things.
Where is he that receives such courtesies
But he has means to shew his gratefulness
Some way or other? I have none at all:
I know not how to speak so much as well
Of thee, but to these trees.
 
 
[Leucippus opening the Letter, the whilst Timantus runs at him, and Urania steps before.
 
 
Tim. His Letters speak him, Sir —
 
 
Ura. Gods keep me but from knowing him till I die: aye me, sure I cannot live a day, Oh thou foul Traitor: How do you Master?
 
 
Leu. How dost thou my child? alas, look on [t]his, it may make thee repentant, to behold those innocent drops that thou hast drawn from thence.
 
 
Ura. 'Tis nothing Sir, and you be well.
 
 
Tim. Oh pardon me, know you me now, Sir?
 
 
Leu. How couldst thou find me out?
 
 
Tima. We intercepted a Letter from Ismenus, and the bearer directed me.
 
 
Leu. Stand up Timantus boldly,
The world conceives that thou art guilty
Of divers treasons to the State and me:
But oh far be it from the innocence
Of a just man, to give a Traitor death
Without a tryal: here the Countrey is not
To purge thee or condemn thee; therefore
A nobler trial than thou dost deserve,
Rather than none at all, here I accuse thee
Before the face of Heaven, to be a Traitor
Both to the Duke my Father and to me, and the
Whole Land: speak, is it so or no?
 
 
Tima. 'Tis true Sir, pardon me.
 
 
Leu. Take heed Timantus how thou dost cast away thy self, I must proceed to execution hastily if thou confess it: speak once againe, is it so or no?
 
 
Tima. I am not guilty, Sir.
 

[Fight here: the Prince gets his sword, and gives it him.

 
Leu. Gods and thy sword acquit thee, here it is.
 
 
Tima. I will not use any violence against your Highness.
 
 
Leu. At thy peril then, for this must be thy trial: and from henceforth look to thy self.
 

[Timantus draws his sword, and runs at him when he turns aside.

 
Tim. I do beseech you, Sir, let me not fight.
 
 
Leu. Up, up again Timantus,
There is no way but this, believe me.
Now if – Fie, fie Timantus, is there no
Usage can recover thee from baseness? wert thou
Longer to converse with men, I would have chid
Thee for this: be all thy faults forgiven.
 
 
Tim. Oh spare me Sir, I am not fit for death.
 
 
Leu. I think th[o]u art not, yet trust me, fitter than for life: Yet tell me e'r thy breath be gone, know'st of any other plots against me?
 
 
Tim. Of none.
 
 
Leu. What course wouldst thou have taken, when thou hadst kill'd me?
 
 
Tim. I would have ta'en your Page, and married her.
 
 
Leu. What Page?
 
 
Tim. Your boy there.
 

[Dies.

[Urania sounds.

 
Leu. Is he fall'n mad in death, what does he mean?
Some good god help me at the worst: how dost thou?
Let not thy misery vex me, thou shalt have
What thy poor heart can wish: I am a Prince,
And I will keep thee in the gayest cloaths,
And the finest things, that ever pretty boy had given him.
 
 
Ura. I know you well enough,
Feth I am dying, and now you know all too.
 
 
Leu. But stir up thy self; look what a Jewel here is,
See how it glisters: what a pretty shew
Will this make in thy little ear? ha, speak,
Eat but a bit, and take it.
 
 
Ura. Do you not know me?
 
 
Leu. I prethee mind thy health: why that's well said my good boy, smile still.
 
 
Ura. I shall smile till death an I see you, I am Urania, your Sister-in-law.
 
 
Leu. How?
 
 
Ura. I am Urania.
 
 
Leu. Dulness did seize me, now I know thee well;
Alas, why cam'st thou hither?
 
 
Ura. Feth for love, I would not let you know till I was dying; for you could not love me, my Mother was so naught.
 
 
Leu. I will love thee, or any thing: what? wilt
Thou leave me as soon as I know thee?
Speak one word to me: alas she's past it,
She will ne'er speak more.
What noise is that? it is no matter who
 

Enter Ismenus with the Lords

 
Comes on me now. What worse than mad are you
That seek out sorrows? if you love delights
Begone from hence.
 
 
Isme. Sir, for you we come, as Soldiers to revenge the wrongs you have suffer'd under this naughty creature: what shall be done with her? say, I am ready.
 
 
Leu. Leave her to Heaven, brave Cosin, they shall tell her how she has sinn'd against 'em, my hand shall never be stain'd with such base bloud: live wicked Mother: that reverend Title be your pardon, for I will use no extremity against you, but leave you to Heaven.
 
 
Bacha. Hell take you all, or if there be a place
Of torment that exceeds that, get you thither:
And till the devils have you, may your lives
Be one continued plague, and such a one,
That knows no friends nor ending.
May all ages that shall succeed, curse you as I do:
And if it be possible, I ask it heaven,
That your base issues may be ever Monsters,
That must for shame of nature and succession,
Be drown'd like dogs.
Would I had breath to [poyson] you.
 
 
Leu. Would you had love within you, and such grief
As might become a Mother: look you there,
Know you that face? that was Urania:
These are the fruits of those unhappy Mothers,
That labour with such horrid births as you do:
If you can weep, there's cause; poor innocent,
Your wickedness has kill'd her: I'll weep for you.
 
 
Isme. Monstrous woman,
Mars would weep at this, and yet she cannot.
 
 
Leu. Here lies your Minion too, slain by my hand,
I will not say you are the cause: yet certain,
I know you were [to] blame, the gods forgive you.
 
 
Isme. See, she stands as if she were inventing
Some new destruction for the world.
 
 
Leu. Ismenus, thou art welcome yet to my sad company.
 
 
Isme. I come to make you somewhat sadder, Sir.
 
 
Leu. You cannot, I am at the height already.
 
 
Isme. Your Fathers dead.
 
 
Leu. I thought so, Heaven be with him: Oh woman, woman, weep now or never, thou hast made more sorrows than we have eyes to utter.
 
 
Bac. Now let Heaven fall, I am at the worst of evils, a thing so miserably wretched, that every thing, the last of humane comforts hath left me: I will not be so base and cold, to live and wait the mercies of these men I hate, no, 'tis just I die, since fortune hath left me, my step discent attends me: hand, strike thou home, I have soul enough to guide; and let all know, as I stood a Queen, the same I'll fall, and one with me. [She stabs the Prince with a knife.
 
 
Leu. Ho.
 
 
Isme. How do you, Sir?
 
 
Leu. Nearer my health, than I think any here, my tongue begins to faulter: what is man? or who would be one, when he sees a poor weak woman can in an instant make him none.
 
 
Dor. She is dead already.
 
 
Isme. Let her be damn'd already as she is: post all for Surgeons.
 
 
Leu. Let not a man stirr, for I am but dead:
I have some few words which I would have you hear,
And am afraid I shall want breath to speak 'em:
First to you my Lords, you know Ismenus is
Undoubtedly Heir of Lycia, I do beseech you all,
When I am dead, to shew your duties to him.
 
 
Lords. We vow to do't.
 
 
Leu. I thank you.
Next to you Cosin Ismenus, that shall be the Duke,
I pray you let the broken Image of Cupid
Be re-edified, I know all this is done by him.
 
 
Isme. It shall be so.
 
 
Leu. Last, I beseech you that my Mother-in-law may have a burial according to —
 

[Dies.

 
Isme. To what, Sir?
 
 
Dor. There is a full point.
 
 
Isme. I will interpret for him; she shall have burial according to her own deserts, with dogs.
 
 
Dor. I would your Majesty would haste for setling of the people.
 
 
Isme. I am ready.
 
 
Age. Goe, and let the Trumpets sound
Some mournful thing, whilst we convey the body
Of this unhappy Prince unto the Court,
And of that virtuous Virgin to a Grave:
But drag her to a ditch, where let her lie,
Accurst, whilst one man has a memory.
 

[Exeunt.

Cupid's Speech

 
The time now of my Revenge draws near.
Nor shall it lessen as I am a god,
With all the cries and prayers that have been;
And those that be to come, though they be infinite,
In need and number.
 

The Two Noble Kinsmen

The Persons represented in the Play

Hymen,

 

 

Theseus,

Hippolita,}

Emelia, }Sisters to Theseus

Nymphs,

Three Queens,

Three valiant Knights,

Palamon,} 'The two Noble Kinsmen, in

Arcite,} love with fair Emelia.

Perithous,

Jaylor,

His Daughter, in love with Palamon,

Countrey-men,

Wenches,

A Taborer,

Gerrold, A Schoolmaster.

PROLOGUE

Florish

 
New Plays and Maiden-heads are near a-kin,
Much follow'd both; for both much money gi'n,
If they stand sound, and well: And a good Play
(Whose modest Scenes blush on his marriage day,
And shake to loose his honour) is like hir
That after holy Tie, and first nights stir
Yet still is Modesty, and still retains
More of the Maid to sight, than Husbands pains;
We pray our Play may be so; for I'm sure
It has a noble breeder, and a pure,
A Learned, and a Poet never went
More famous yet 'twixt Po, and silver Trent.
Chaucer (of all admir'd) the Story gives,
There constant to eternity it lives:
If we let fall the Nobleness of this,
And the first sound this Child hear, be a hiss,
How will it shake the bones of that good man
And make him cry from under-ground. Oh fan
From me the witless chaff of such a writer
That blasts my Bayes, and my fam'd Works makes lighter
Than Robin Hood, this is the fear we bring
For to say Truth, it were an endless thing:
And too ambitious to aspire to him;
Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim
In this deep water. Do but you hold out
Your helping hands, and we shall tack about,
And something do to save us: You shall hear
Scænes, though below his Art, may yet appear
Worth two hours travel. To his bones sweet sleep:
Content to you. If this Play do not keep,
A little dull time from us, we perceive
Our losses fall so thick, we must needs leave. Florish.
 

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima

Enter Hymen with a Torch burning: a Boy, in a white Robe before, singing, and strewing Flowers: after Hymen, a Nymph, encompassed in her Tresses, bearing a wheaten Garland. Then Theseus between two other Nymphs, with wheaten Chaplets on their heads. Then Hippolita the Bride lead by Theseus, and another holding a Garland over her head (her Tresses likewise hanging.) After her Emilia holding up her Train

The SONG. Musick

 
Roses their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,
But in their hew,
Maiden-Pinks, of odour faint,
Daizies smell-less, yet most quaint
And sweet Time true.
 
 
Primrose first born, child of Ver,
Merry Spring time's Harbinger,
With her bels dimm.
Oxlips in their Cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
Larks-heels trim.
All dear natures children sweet,
Lie fore Bride and Bridegrooms feet,
 

[Strew Flowers.

 
Blessing their sence.
Not an Angel of the Air,
Bird melodious, or Bird fair,
Is absent hence.
The Crow, the slanderous Cuckooe, nor
The boading Raven, nor Clough h[ee]
Nor chatt'ring Pie,
May on our Bridehouse pearch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring
But from it fly.
 

Enter three Queens in Black, with vails stain'd, with Imperial Crowns. The first Queen falls down at the foot of Theseus; The second fals down at the foot of Hippolita. The third before Emilia

 
1 Qu. For pities sake, and true gentilities,
Hear and respect me.
 
 
2 Qu. For your Mothers sake.
And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,
Hear and respect me.
 
 
3 Qu. Now for the love of him whom Jove hath mark'd
The honor of your Bed, and for the sake
Of clear Virginity, be Advocate
For us, and our distresses: This good deed
Shall raze you out o'th' Book of Trespasses
All you are set down there.
 
 
Thes. Sad Lady rise.
 
 
Hip. Stand up.
 
 
Emil. No knees to me.
What Woman I may steed that is distrest,
Does bind me to her.
 
 
Thes. What's your request? Deliver you for all?
 
 
1 Qu. We are three Queens, whose Sovereigns fell before
The wrath of cruel Creon; who endur'd
The Beaks of Ravens, Tallents of the Kites,
And pecks of Crows in the foul field[s] of Thebs.
He will not suffer us to burn their bones,
To urne their ashes, nor to take th' offence
Of mortal loathsomness from the blest eye
Of holy Phœbus, but infects the winds
With stench of our slain Lords. Oh pity Duke,
Thou purger of the earth, draw thy fear'd Sword
That does good turns to th' world; give us the Bones
Of our dead Kings, that we may Chappel them;
And of thy boundless goodness take some note
That for our crowned heads we have no roof;
Save this which is the Lions and the Bears,
And vault to every thing.
 
 
Thes. Pray you kneel not,
I was transported with your Speech, and suffer'd
Your knees to wrong themselves; I have heard the fortunes
Of your dead Lords, which gives me such lamenting
As wakes my vengeance, and revenge for 'em:
King Capaneus, was your Lord the day
That he should marry you, at such a season,
As now it is with me, I met your Groom,
By Mars's Altar; you were that time fair;
Not Juno's Mantle, fairer than your Tresses,
Nor in more bounty spread her. Your wheaten wreath
Was then not thrash'd, nor blasted; Fortune at you
Dimpled her Cheek with smiles: Hercules our kinsman
(Then weaker than your eyes) laid by his Club,
He tumbled down upon his Nenuan hide
And swore his sinews thaw'd: Oh grief, and time,
Fearful consumers, you will all devour.
 
 
1 Qu. Oh I hope some God,
Some God hath put his mercy in your manhood
Whereto he'll infuse power, and press you forth
Our undertaker.
 
 
Thes. Oh no knees, none Widow,
Unto the Helmeted-Belona use them,
And pray for me your Soldier.
Troubl'd I am.
 

[Turns away.

 
2 Qu. Honoured Hippolita
Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slain
The Sith-tusk'd-Bore; that with thy Arm as strong
As it is white, was't near to make the male
To thy Sex captive; but that this thy Lord
Born to uphold Creation, in that honor
First nature stil'd it in, shrunk thee into
The bound thou wast o'er-flowing; at once subduing
Thy force, and thy affection: Soldieress
That equally canst poize sternness with pity,
Whom now I know hast [much] more power on him
Than ever he had on thee, who ow'st his strength,
And his Love too: who is a Servant for
The Tenor of the Speech. Dear Glass of Ladies.
Bid him that we whom flaming war doth scorch,
Under the shadow of his Sword, may cool us:
Require him he advance it o'er our heads;
Speak't in a womans key: like such a woman
As any of us three; weep e'r you fail; lend us a knee;
But touch the ground for us no longer time
Than a Doves motion, when the head's pluckt off:
Tell him if he i'th' blood-ciz'd field, lay swoln
Shewing the Sun his Teeth, grinning at the Moon
What you would do.
 
 
Hip. Poor Lady say no more:
I had as leif trace this good action with you
As that whereto I'm going, and never yet
Went I so willing, way. My Lord is taken
Heart deep with your distress: Let him consider;
I'll speak anon.
 
 
3 Qu. Oh my petition was,
 

[Kneel to Emilia.

 
Set down in Ice, which by hot grief uncandied
Melts into drops, so sorrow wanting form
Is prest with deeper matter.
 
 
Emil. Pray stand up,
Your grief is written in your cheek.
 
 
3 Qu. Oh woe,
You cannot read it there; there through my tears,
Like wrinkl'd pebbles in a Glass stream
You may behold 'em (Lady, Lady, alack)
He that will all the treasure know o'th' earth
Must know the Center too; he that will fish
For my least minnow, let him lead his line
To catch one at my heart. Oh pardon me;
Extremity that sharpens sundry wits
Makes me a fool.
 
 
Emil. 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
The ground-piece of some Painter, I would buy you
T'instruct me 'gainst a capital grief indeed
Such heart-pierc'd demonstration; but alas
Being a natural Sister of our Sex
Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me:
That it shall make a counter-reflect 'gainst
My Brothers heart, and warm it to some pity
Though it were made of stone: pray have good comfort:
 
 
Thes. Forward to th' Temple, leave not out a jot
O' th' sacred ceremony.
 
 
1 Qu. Oh this celebration
Will long last, and be more costly than
Your Suppliants war: Remember that your Fame
Knowls in the ear o'th' world: what you do quickly,
Is not done rashly; your first thought is more,
Than others laboured meditance: your premeditating
More than their actions: But oh Jove, your actions,
Soon as they move, as Asprays do the fish,
Subdue before they touch: think, dear Duke think
What beds our slain Kings have.
 
 
2 Qu. What griefs our beds
That our dear Lords have none.
 
 
3 Qu. None fit for th' dead:
Those that with Cords, Knives, Drams precipitance,
Weary of this worlds light, have to themselves
Been deaths most horrid Agents, humane grace
Affords them dust and shadow.
 
 
1 Qu. But our Lords
Lie blist'ring 'fore the visitating Sun,
And were good Kings, when living.
 
 
Thes. It is true, and I will give you comfort,
To give your dead Lords graves:
The which to do must make some work with Creon.
 
 
1 Qu. And that work presents it self to th' doing:
Now 'twill take form, the heats are gone to morrow,
Then bootless toil must recompence it self,
With its own sweat; Now he's secure,
Not dre[a]ms, we stand before your puissance
Wrinching our holy begging in our eyes
To make petition clear.
 
 
2 Qu. Now you may take him,
Drunk with his victory.
 
 
3 Qu. And his Army full
Of Bread, and sloth.
 
 
Thes. Artesis that best knowest
How to draw out, fit to this enterprize,
The prim'st for this proceeding, and the number
To carry such a business, forth and levy
Our worthiest Instruments, whilst we dispatch
This grand act of our life, this daring deed
Of Fate in wedlock.
 
 
1 Qu. Dowagers, take hands
Let us be Widows to our woes, delay
Commends us to a famishing hope.
 
 
All. Farewell.
 
 
2 Qu. We come unseasonably: But when could grief
Cull forth as unpanged judgement can, fit'st time
For best solicitation.
 
 
Thes. Why good Ladies,
This is a service, whereto I am going,
Greater than any was; it more imports me
Than all the actions that I have foregone,
Or futurely can cope.
 
 
1 Qu. The more proclaiming
Our suit shall be neglected, when her Arms,
Able to lock Jove from a Synod, shall
By warranting Moon-light corslet thee, oh when
Her twining Cherries shall their sweetness fall
Upon thy tastful Lips, what wilt thou think
Of rotten Kings, or blubber'd Queens, what care
For what thou feel'st not? what thou feel'st being able
To make Mars spurn his Drom. Oh if thou couch
But one night with her, every hour in't will
Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and
Thou shalt remember nothing more, than what
That Banquet bids thee too.
 
 
Hip. Though much unlike
You should be so transported, as much sorry
I should be such a Suitor; yet I think
Did I not by th' abstaining of my joy
Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit
That craves a present med'cine, I should pluck
All Ladies scandal on me. Therefore Sir
As I shall here make trial of my Prayers,
Either presuming them to have some force,
Or sentencing for ay their vigor dumb,
Prorogue this business, we are going about, and hang
Your Shield afore your heart, about that neck
Which is my Fee, and which I freely lend
To do these poor Queens service.
 
 
All Queens. Oh help now
Our Cause cries for your knee.
 
 
Emil. If you grant not
My Sister her petition in that force,
With that Celerity, and nature which
She makes it in: from henceforth I'll not dare
To ask you any thing, nor be so hardy
Ever to take a Husband.
 
 
Thes. Pray stand up.
I am intreating of my self to do
That which you kneel to have me; Pyrithous
Lead on the Bride; get you and pray the gods
For success, and return; omit not any thing
In the pretended Celebration; Queens
Follow your Soldier (as before) hence you
And at the banks of Anly meet us with
The forces you can raise, where we shall find
The moiety of a number, for a business,
More bigger look't; since that our Theme is haste
I stamp this kiss uppon thy currant Lip,
Sweet keep it as my token; set you forward
For I will see you gone. [Exeunt towards the Temple.
Farewel my beauteous Sister; Pyrithous
Keep the Feast full, bate not an hour on't.
 
 
Pyri. Sir,
I'll follow you at heels; The Feasts solemnity
Shall want till your return.
 
 
Thes. Cosin I charge you
Budge not from Athens; we shall be returning
E'r you can end this Feast; of which I pray you
Make no abatement; once more farewel all.
 
 
1 Qu. Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o'th' world.
 
 
[2] Qu. And earnst a Deity equal with Mars.
 
 
3 Qu. If not above him, for
Thou being but mortal, makest affections bend
To godlike honors; they themselves some say
Groan under such a Mast'ry.
 
 
Thes. As we are men
Thus should we doe, being sensually subdu'd
We loose our humane Title; good cheer Ladies. Florish.
Now turn we towards our Comforts.
 

[Exeunt.