(Your most unworthy creature) but offends you, Command him die, he shall.

Emi. That were too cruel.

If you deserve well, sir, I shall soon see't: You're mine; and somewhat better than your rank I'll use you.

Per. I'll see you furnish'd:` And because you say

You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you This afternoon to ride; but 'tis a rough one. Arc. I like him better, prince; I shall not then Freeze in my saddle.

Thes. Sweet, you must be ready; And you, Emilia; and you, friend; and all; To-morrow, by the sun, to do observance To flow'ry May, in Dian's wood. Wait well, sir, Upon your mistress! Emily, I hope He shall not go afoot.

Emi. 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 mistress.

Arc. If I do not,

He is at liberty! I've ventured for him;
And out I've brought him to a little wood
A mile hence. I have sent him, where a cedar,
Higher than all the rest, spreads like a plane
Fast by a brook; and there he shall keep close,
Till I provide him files and food; for yet
His iron bracelets are not off. Oh, Love,
What a stout-hearted child thou art! My father
Durst better have endured cold iron than done it.
I love him beyond love, and beyond reason,
Or wit, or safety! I have made him know it:
I care not; I am desperate! If the law
Find me, and then condemn me for't, some
wenches,

Some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge,
And tell to memory my death was noble,
Dying almost a martyr. That way he takes,
I purpose, is my way too: Sure he cannot
Be so unmanly as to leave me here!
If he do, maids will not so easily

Trust men again: And yet he has not thank'd

me

For what I've done; no, not so much aɛ kiss'd

me;

And that, methinks, is not so well; nor scarcely
Could I persuade him to become a freeman,
He made such scruples of the wrong he did
To me and to my father. Yet, I hope,
When he considers more, this love of mine
Will take more root within him: Let him do
What he will with me, so he use me kindly!
For use me so he shall, or I'll proclaim him,
And to his face, no man. I'll presently
Provide him necessaries, and pack my clothes
up,

And where there is a path of ground I'll ven

Arc. Not finding, in

as people a-maying.

Enter ARCITE.

it

Arc. The duke has lost Hippolita; each took A several land. This is a solemn rite They owe bloom'd May, and the Athenians pay To th' heart of ceremony. Oh, queen Emilia, Fresher than May, sweeter

Than her gold buttons on the boughs, or all Th' enamell'd knacks o' th' mead or garden! yea,

We challenge too the bank of any nymph, That makes the stream seem flowers; thou, oh, jewel

O'th' wood, o'th' world, hast likewise blest a place

With thy sole presence. In thy rumination
That I poor man might eftsoons come between,
And chop on some cold thought!-Thrice bless-
ed chance,

To drop on such a mistress! Expectation
Most guiltless of't! Tell me, oh, lady Fortune,
(Next after Emily my sovereign) how far
I may be proud. She takes strong note of me,
Hath made me near her, and this beauteous morn
(The prim'st of all the year) presents me with
A brace of horses; two such steeds might well
Be by a pair of kings back'd, in a field
That their crowns' titles tried. Alas, alas,
Poor cousin Palamon, poor prisoner! thou
So little dream'st upon my fortune, that
Thou think'st thyself the happier thing, to be
So near Emilia; me thou deem'st at Thebes,
And therein wretched, although free: But if
Thou knew'st my mistress breathed on me, and
that

I ear'd her language, lived in her eye, oh, coz,
What passion would enclose thee!

Enter PALAMON as out of a bush, with his shackles; bends his fist at ARCITE.

Pal. Traitor kinsman!

Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signs
Of prisonment were off me, and this hand
But owner of a sword. By all oaths in one,
I, and the justice of my love, would make thee
A confess'd traitor! Oh, thou most perfidious
That ever gently look'd! the void'st of honour
That e'er bore gentle token! falsest cousin
That ever blood made kin! call'st thou her
thine?

I'll prove it in my shackles, with these hands
Void of appointment, that thou liest, and art
A very thief in love, a chaffy lord,

Nor worth the name of villain! Had I a sword,
And these house-clogs away-

Arc. Dear cousin Palamon

To form me like your blazon, holds me to
This gentleness of answer: "Tis your passion
That thus mistakes; the which to you being

enemy,

Cannot to me be kind. Honour and honesty
I cherish, and depend on, howsoe'er

You skip them in me; and with them, fáir coz,
I'll maintain my proceedings. Pray be pleased
To shew in generous terms your griefs, since
that

Your question's with your equal, who professes To clear his own way, with the mind and sword Of a true gentlemar.

Pal. That thou durst, Arcite!

Arc. My coz, my coz, you have been well advertised

How much I dare: You've seen me use my sword

Against th' advice of fear. Sure, of another You would not hear me doubted, but your silence

Should break out, though i' th' sanctuary.

Arc. Kinsman, you might as well Speak this, and act it in your glass, as to His ear, which now disdains you!

Pal. Come up to me!

Quit me of these cold gyves, give me a sword (Though it be rusty), and the charity

Of one meal lend me; come before me then,
A good sword in thy hand, and do but say
That Emily is thine, I will forgive
The trespass thou hast done me, yea my life,
If then thou carry't; and brave souls in shades,
That have died manly, which will seek of me
Some news from earth, they shall get none but
this,

That thou art brave and noble.

Arc Be content; Again betake you to your hawthorn-house. With counsel of the night, I will be here With wholesome viands; these impediments Will I file off; you shall have garments, and Perfumes to kill the smell o' th' prison; after, When you shall stretch yourself, and say but, "Arcite,

"I am in plight!" there shall be at your choice Both sword and armour.

A vantage o'er me; but enjoy it till

If he not answer'd, I should call a wolf,
And do him but that service. I have heard
Strange howls this live-long night; why may't
not be

They have made prey of him? He has no weapons;

He cannot run; the jingling of his gyves
Might call fell things to listen, who have in them
A sense to know a man unarm'd, and can
Smell where resistance is. I'll set it down
He's torn to pieces; they howl'd many together,
And then they fed on him: So much for that!
Be bold to ring the bell; how stand I then?
All's char'd when he is
No, no,
gone.
My father's to be hang'd for his escape;.
I lie;
Myself to beg, if I priz'd life so much
As to deny my act; but that I would not,
Should I try death by dozens!-I am mop'd:
Food took I none these two days,

Sipt some water; I've not clos'd mine eyes,
Save when my lids scour'd off their brine. Alas,
Dissolve, my life! let not my sense unsettle,
Lest I should drown, or stab, or hang myself!
Oh, state of Nature, fail together in me,
Since thy best props are warp'd-So! which way

now?

The best way is, the next way to a grave:
Each errant step beside is torment. Lo,
The moon is down, the crickets chirp, the
screech-owl

Calls in the dawn! all offices are done,
Save what I fail in: But the point is this,
An end, and that is all!

SCENE III.

[Exit.

Come forth, and fear not; here's no Theseus. Pal. Nor none so honest, Arcite.

Arc. That's no matter;

We'll argue that hereafter. Come, take courage;

SCENE II.

Enter Jailor's Daughter.

Daugh. He has mistook the beck I meant;
'tis gone

After his fancy. "Tis now well nigh morning;
No matter! would it were perpetual night,
And Darkness lord o' th' world!-Hark! 'tis a
wolf:

In me hath grief slain fear, and, but for one thing,

I care for nothing, and that's Palamon :
I reck not if the wolves would jaw me, so
He had this file. What if I halloo'd for him?
I cannot halloo; if I whoop'd, what then?

I know you're faint; then I'll talk further with

you.

Pul. Arcite, thou might'st now poison me.
Arc. I might;

But I must fear you first. Sit down; and, good

now,

No more of these vain parlies! let us not, Having our ancient reputation with us, Make talk for fools and cowards. health!

Pal. Do

To your

Give me more wine: Here, Arcite, to the wenches We have known in our days! The lord-steward's daughter;

Do you remember her?

Arc. After you, coz.

Pal. She lov'd a black-hair'd man.

Arc. She did so: Well, sir?

Pal. And I have heard some call him Arcite; and

Arc. Out with it, faith!

Pal. She met him in an arbour:

What did she there, coz? Play o' th' virginals? Arc. Something she did, sir.

Pal. Made her groan a month for❜t;

Or two, or three, or ten.

Arc. The marshal's sister

Had her share too, as I remember, cousin,

Else there be tales abroad: You'll pledge her? Pul. Yes.

Arc. A pretty brown wench 'tis! There was a time

When young men went a hunting, and a wood, And a broad beech; and thereby hangs a tale. Heigh-ho!

Pal. For Emily, upon my life! Fool, Away with this strain'd mirth! I say again, That sigh was breath'd for Emily: Base cousin, Dar'st thou break first?

Arc. You're wide.

Pal. By Heav'n and earth, There's nothing in thee honest! Arc, Then I'll leave you:

You are a beast now.

Pal. As thou mak'st me, traitor.

Arc. There's all things needful; files, and shirts, and perfumes :

I'll come again some two hours hence, and bring That, that shall quiet all.

Pal. A sword and armour?

Arc. Fear me not. You are now too foul:

Farewell!

SCENE IV.

Enter Jailor's Daughter.

Daugh. I'm very cold; and all the stars are out too,

The little stars, and all that look like aglets:
The sun has seen my folly. Palamon!
Alas, no; he's in Heav'n!-Where am I now ?—
Yonder's the sea, and there's a ship; how't tum-
bles!

And there's a rock lies watching under water;
Now, now, it beats upon it! now, now, now!
There's a leak sprung, a sound one; how they cry!
Up with her 'fore the wind, you'll lose all else!
Up with a course or two, and tack about, boys!
Good night, good night; you're gone !—I'm
very hungry:

'Would I could find a fine frog! he would tell

Close in the thicket; the duke appears, I meet him,

And unto him I utter learned things,
And many figures; he hears, and nods, and hums,
And then cries rare! and I go forward; at length
I fling my cap up; mark there! then do you,
As once did Meleager and the boar,
Break comely out before him, like true lovers,
Cast yourselves in a body decently,
And sweetly, by a figure, trace, and turn, boys!
1 Coun. And sweetly we will do it, master
Gerrold.

2 Coun. Draw up the company,

taborer?

3 Coun. Why, Timothy!

Where's the

Tab. Here, my mad boys; have at ye! Ger. But I say where's their women? 4 Coun. Here's Friz and Maudlin.

2 Coun. And little Luce, with the white legs, and bouncing Barbary.

1 Coun. And freckled Nell, that never fail'd

her master.

Ger. Where be your ribands, maids? Swim
with your bodies,

And carry it sweetly, and deliverly;
And now and then a favour, and a frisk!
Nell. Let us alone, sir.

Ger. Where's the rest o' th' music?
3 Coun. Dispers'd as you commanded.
Ger. Couple then,

And see what's wanting. Where's the Bavian?
My friend, carry your tail without offence
Or scandal to the ladies; and be sure
You tumble with audacity, and manhood!
And when you bark, do it with judgment.
Bav. Yes, sir.

Ger, Quo usque tandem? Here's a woman wanting.

4 Coun. We may go whistle; all the fat's i' th'

fire!

Go thy ways; I'll remember thee, I'll fit thee! Enter Jailor's Daughter.

Daugh. The George alow came from the South,
From the coast of Barbary-a.

And there he met with brave gallants of war,
By one, by two, by three-a.

Well hail'd, well hail'd, you jolly gallants! And whether now are you bound-a? me have your company

Ob, let

'Till I come to the Sound-a! There was three fools, fell out about an howlet The one said 'twas an owl, The other he said nay,

The third he said it was a hawk,

And her bells were cut away.

3 Coun. There is a dainty mad woman, magister,

Comes i' th' nick; as mad as a March hare!
If we can get her dance, we're made again:
I warrant her, she'll do the rarest gambols!

1 Coun. A mad woman? We are made, boys!
Ger. And are you mad, good woman?
Daugh. I would be sorry else;

Give me your hand.

Ger. Why?

Daugh. I can tell your fortune:

You are a fool. Tell ten: I've poz'd him. Buz! Friend, you must eat no white bread; if you do, Your teeth will bleed extremely. Shall we

dance, ho?

And fluently persuade her to a peace:
Atque opus exegi, quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignis---
Strike up, and lead her in!

2 Coun. Come, lass, let's trip it!
Daugh. I'll lead.

[Wind horns.

3 Coun. Do, do.
Ger. Persuasively, and cunningly; away, boys!
[Exeunt all but GERROLD.

I hear the horns: Give me some meditation,
And mark your cue. Pallas inspire me!

Enter THESEUS, PERITHOUS, HIPPOLITA,
EMILIA, ARCITE, and Train,

Thes. This way the stag took,
Ger. Stay, and edify!

Thes. What have we here?

Per. Some country-sport, upon my life, sir. Thes. Well, sir, go forward; we will edify. Ladies, sit down; we'll stay it.

Ger. Thou doughty duke, all hail! all hail, sweet ladies!

Thes. This is a cold beginning.

Ger. If you but favour, our country pastime made is.

B