It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theatre.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed; decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper” and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Shakespeare texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from
Othello
: “
square bracket
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
square bracket
”), half-square brackets (for example, from
Henry V
: “With
half-square bracket
blood
half-square bracket
and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from
Hamlet
: “O farewell, honest
angle bracket
soldier.
angle bracket
Who hath relieved/you?”). At any point in the text, you can hover your cursor over a bracket for more information.
Because the Folger Shakespeare texts are edited in accord with twenty-first century knowledge about Shakespeare’s texts, the Folger here provides them to readers, scholars, teachers, actors, directors, and students, free of charge, confident of their quality as texts of the plays and pleased to be able to make this contribution to the study and enjoyment of Shakespeare.
The Two Noble Kinsmen
, derived from Chaucer’s
Canterbury Tales
, begins as Athens defeats Thebes in war. Arcite and Palamon, Theban knights and devoted cousins, are imprisoned in Athens. From their cell, they see Emilia, the sister-in-law of Theseus, Duke of Athens. Both fall in love with her, becoming bitter rivals.
Arcite is released but, for love of Emilia, stays in Athens at the risk of his life. The jailer’s daughter, who loves Palamon, helps him escape, but goes mad with anxiety. Her original wooer cures her by courting her while pretending to be Palamon.
Arcite encounters Palamon and challenges him to formal combat for Emilia. Theseus discovers them before they duel. He first sentences both to death, but then establishes a contest in which each will participate with Theban comrades. The loser and his knights will die. The winner will wed Emilia.
Arcite prays to Mars for victory; Palamon, to Venus for Emilia’s love. Both prayers are answered. Arcite wins, but dies after a riding accident. Palamon, spared from execution, marries Emilia.
Flourish
.
Enter
Prologue
.
New
plays
and
maidenheads
are
near
akin
:
Much
followed
both
,
for
both
much
money
giv’n
,
If
they
stand
sound
and
well
.
And
a
good
play
,
Whose
modest
scenes
blush
on
his
marriage
day
And
shake
to
lose
his
honor
,
is
like
her
That
after
holy
tie
and
first
night’s
stir
Yet
still
is
modesty
,
and
still
retains
More
of
the
maid
,
to
sight
,
than
husband’s
pains
.
We
pray
our
play
may
be
so
,
for
I
am
sure
It
has
a
noble
breeder
and
a
pure
,
A
learnèd
,
and
a
poet
never
went
More
famous
yet
’twixt
Po
and
silver
Trent
.
Chaucer
,
of
all
admired
,
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
underground
O
,
fan
From
me
the
witless
chaff
of
such
a
writer
That
blasts
my
bays
and
my
famed
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
Scenes
,
though
below
his
art
,
may
yet
appear
Worth
two
hours’
travel
.
To
his
bones
sweet
sleep
;
PROLOGUE
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
.
Flourish
.
He
exits
.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Music
.
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
Hippolyta
,
the
bride
,
led
by
Pirithous
,
and
another
holding
a
garland
over
her
head
,
her
tresses
likewise
hanging
.
After
her
,
Emilia
,
holding
up
her
train
.
Then
Artesius
and
Attendants
.
The
Song
,
sung
by
the
Boy
.
Roses
,
their
sharp
spines
being
gone
,
Not
royal
in
their
smells
alone
,
But
in
their
hue
;
Maiden
pinks
,
of
odor
faint
,
Daisies
smell-less
,
yet
most
quaint
,
And
sweet
thyme
true
;
Primrose
,
firstborn
child
of
Ver
,
Merry
springtime’s
harbinger
,
With
her
bells
dim
;
Oxlips
in
their
cradles
growing
,
Marigolds
on
deathbeds
blowing
,
Lark’s-heels
trim
;
All
dear
Nature’s
children
sweet
Lie
’fore
bride
and
bridegroom’s
feet
,
Strew
flowers
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Blessing
their
sense
.
Not
an
angel
of
the
air
,
Bird
melodious
or
bird
fair
,
Is
absent
hence
.
The
crow
,
the
sland’rous
cuckoo
,
nor
The
boding
raven
,
nor
chough
hoar
,
Nor
chatt’ring
pie
,
May
on
our
bridehouse
perch
or
sing
,
Or
with
them
any
discord
bring
,
But
from
it
fly
.
Enter
three
Queens
in
black
,
with
veils
stained
,
with
imperial
crowns
.
The
first
Queen
falls
down
at
the
foot
of
Theseus
;
the
second
falls
down
at
the
foot
of
Hippolyta
;
the
third
before
Emilia
.
,
to
Theseus
For
pity’s
sake
and
true
gentility’s
,
Hear
and
respect
me
.
,
to
Hippolyta
For
your
mother’s
sake
,
And
as
you
wish
your
womb
may
thrive
with
fair
ones
,
Hear
and
respect
me
.
,
to
Emilia
Now
for
the
love
of
him
whom
Jove
hath
marked
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
.
,
to
First
Queen
Sad
lady
,
rise
.
,
to
Second
Queen
Stand
up
.
,
to
Third
Queen
No
knees
to
me
.
What
woman
I
may
stead
that
is
distressed
Does
bind
me
to
her
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
,
to
First
Queen
What’s
your
request
?
Deliver
you
for
all
.
We
are
three
queens
whose
sovereigns
fell
before
The
wrath
of
cruel
Creon
;
who
endured
The
beaks
of
ravens
,
talons
of
the
kites
,
And
pecks
of
crows
in
the
foul
fields
of
Thebes
.
He
will
not
suffer
us
to
burn
their
bones
,
To
urn
their
ashes
,
nor
to
take
th’
offense
Of
mortal
loathsomeness
from
the
blest
eye
Of
holy
Phoebus
,
but
infects
the
winds
With
stench
of
our
slain
lords
.
O
,
pity
,
duke
!
Thou
purger
of
the
Earth
earth
,
draw
thy
feared
sword
That
does
good
turns
to
th’
world
;
give
us
the
bones
Of
our
dead
kings
,
that
we
may
chapel
them
;
And
of
thy
boundless
goodness
take
some
note
That
for
our
crownèd
heads
we
have
no
roof
Save
this
,
which
is
the
lion’s
and
the
bear’s
,
And
vault
to
everything
.
Pray
you
,
kneel
not
.
I
was
transported
with
your
speech
and
suffered
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
nor
threshed
nor
blasted
.
Fortune
at
you
Dimpled
her
cheek
with
smiles
.
Hercules
,
our
kinsman
,
Then
weaker
than
your
eyes
,
laid
by
his
club
;
ACT 1. SC. 1
He
tumbled
down
upon
his
Nemean
hide
And
swore
his
sinews
thawed
.
O
grief
and
time
,
Fearful
consumers
,
you
will
all
devour
!
O
,
I
hope
some
god
,
Some
god
hath
put
his
mercy
in
your
manhood
,
Whereto
he’ll
infuse
power
,
and
press
you
forth
Our
undertaker
.
O
,
no
knees
,
none
,
widow
!
Unto
the
helmeted
Bellona
use
them
And
pray
for
me
,
your
soldier
.
The
First
Queen
rises
.
Troubled
I
am
.
Turns
away
.
Honored
Hippolyta
,
Most
dreaded
Amazonian
,
that
hast
slain
The
scythe-tusked
boar
;
that
with
thy
arm
,
as
strong
As
it
is
white
,
wast
near
to
make
the
male
To
thy
sex
captive
,
but
that
this
thy
lord
,
Born
to
uphold
creation
in
that
honor
First
nature
styled
it
in
,
shrunk
thee
into
The
bound
thou
wast
o’erflowing
,
at
once
subduing
Thy
force
and
thy
affection
;
soldieress
That
equally
canst
poise
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
thy
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
woman’s
key
,
like
such
a
woman
As
any
of
us
three
;
weep
ere
you
fail
.
Lend
us
a
knee
;
But
touch
the
ground
for
us
no
longer
time
Than
a
dove’s
motion
when
the
head’s
plucked
off
.
Tell
him
if
he
i’
th’
blood-sized
field
lay
swoll’n
,
Showing
the
sun
his
teeth
,
grinning
at
the
moon
,
What
you
would
do
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Poor
lady
,
say
no
more
.
I
had
as
lief
trace
this
good
action
with
you
As
that
whereto
I
am
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
.
Second
Queen
rises
.
O
,
my
petition
was
Set
down
in
ice
,
which
by
hot
grief
uncandied
Melts
into
drops
;
so
sorrow
,
wanting
form
,
Is
pressed
with
deeper
matter
.
Pray
stand
up
.
Your
grief
is
written
in
your
cheek
.
O
,
woe
!
You
cannot
read
it
there
.
She
rises
.
There
through
my
tears
,
Like
wrinkled
pebbles
in
a
glassy
stream
,
You
may
behold
’em
.
Lady
,
lady
,
alack
!
He
that
will
all
the
treasure
know
o’
th’
Earth
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
.
O
,
pardon
me
!
Extremity
,
that
sharpens
sundry
wits
,
Makes
me
a
fool
.
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
groundpiece
of
some
painter
,
I
would
buy
you
T’
instruct
me
’gainst
a
capital
grief
—
indeed
,
Such
heart-pierced
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
brother’s
heart
and
warm
it
to
some
pity
,
Though
it
were
made
of
stone
.
Pray
have
good
comfort
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
,
coming
forward
Forward
to
th’
temple
.
Leave
not
out
a
jot
O’
th’
sacred
ceremony
.
O
,
this
celebration
Will
longer
last
and
be
more
costly
than
Your
suppliants’
war
.
Remember
that
your
fame
Knolls
in
the
ear
o’
th’
world
;
what
you
do
quickly
Is
not
done
rashly
;
your
first
thought
is
more
Than
others’
labored
meditance
,
your
premeditating
More
than
their
actions
.
But
,
O
Jove
,
your
actions
,
Soon
as
they
move
,
as
ospreys
do
the
fish
,
Subdue
before
they
touch
.
Think
,
dear
duke
,
think
What
beds
our
slain
kings
have
!
What
griefs
our
beds
,
That
our
dear
lords
have
none
!
None
fit
for
th’
dead
.
Those
that
with
cords
,
knives
,
drams
,
precipitance
,
Weary
of
this
world’s
light
,
have
to
themselves
Been
death’s
most
horrid
agents
,
human
grace
Affords
them
dust
and
shadow
.
But
our
lords
Lie
blist’ring
’fore
the
visitating
sun
,
And
were
good
kings
when
living
.
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
.
And
that
work
presents
itself
to
th’
doing
.
Now
’twill
take
form
;
the
heats
are
gone
tomorrow
.
Then
,
bootless
toil
must
recompense
itself
With
its
own
sweat
.
Now
he’s
secure
,
Not
dreams
we
stand
before
your
puissance
,
Rinsing
our
holy
begging
in
our
eyes
To
make
petition
clear
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Now
you
may
take
him
,
Drunk
with
his
victory
.
And
his
army
full
Of
bread
and
sloth
.
Artesius
,
that
best
knowest
How
to
draw
out
,
fit
to
this
enterprise
,
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
.
,
to
Second
and
Third
Queens
Dowagers
,
take
hands
.
Let
us
be
widows
to
our
woes
.
Delay
Commends
us
to
a
famishing
hope
.
Farewell
.
We
come
unseasonably
;
but
when
could
grief
Cull
forth
,
as
unpanged
judgment
can
,
fitt’st
time
For
best
solicitation
?
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
.
The
more
proclaiming
Our
suit
shall
be
neglected
when
her
arms
,
Able
to
lock
Jove
from
a
synod
,
shall
By
warranting
moonlight
corselet
thee
.
O
,
when
Her
twinning
cherries
shall
their
sweetness
fall
Upon
thy
tasteful
lips
,
what
wilt
thou
think
Of
rotten
kings
or
blubbered
queens
?
What
care
For
what
thou
feel’st
not
,
what
thou
feel’st
being
able
To
make
Mars
spurn
his
drum
?
O
,
if
thou
couch
But
one
night
with
her
,
every
hour
in
’t
will
ACT 1. SC. 1
Take
hostage
of
thee
for
a
hundred
,
and
Thou
shalt
remember
nothing
more
than
what
That
banquet
bids
thee
to
.
,
to
Theseus
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
.
She
kneels
.
Therefore
,
sir
,
As
I
shall
here
make
trial
of
my
prayers
,
Either
presuming
them
to
have
some
force
,
Or
sentencing
for
aye
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
.
,
to
Emilia
O
,
help
now
!
Our
cause
cries
for
your
knee
.
,
to
Theseus
,
kneeling
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
anything
,
nor
be
so
hardy
Ever
to
take
a
husband
.
Pray
stand
up
.
Hippolyta
and
Emilia
rise
.
I
am
entreating
of
myself
to
do
That
which
you
kneel
to
have
me
.
—
Pirithous
,
Lead
on
the
bride
;
get
you
and
pray
the
gods
For
success
and
return
;
omit
not
anything
In
the
pretended
celebration
.
—
Queens
,
Follow
your
soldier
.
To
Artesius
.
As
before
,
hence
you
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
And
at
the
banks
of
Aulis
meet
us
with
The
forces
you
can
raise
,
where
we
shall
find
The
moiety
of
a
number
for
a
business
More
bigger
looked
.
Artesius
exits
.
To
Hippolyta
.
Since
that
our
theme
is
haste
,
I
stamp
this
kiss
upon
thy
currant
lip
;
Sweet
,
keep
it
as
my
token
.
—
Set
you
forward
,
For
I
will
see
you
gone
.
The
wedding
procession
begins
to
exit
towards
the
temple
.
Farewell
,
my
beauteous
sister
.
—
Pirithous
,
Keep
the
feast
full
;
bate
not
an
hour
on
’t
.
Sir
,
I’ll
follow
you
at
heels
.
The
feast’s
solemnity
Shall
want
till
your
return
.
Cousin
,
I
charge
you
,
Budge
not
from
Athens
.
We
shall
be
returning
Ere
you
can
end
this
feast
,
of
which
I
pray
you
Make
no
abatement
.
—
Once
more
,
farewell
all
.
All
but
Theseus
and
the
Queens
exit
.
Thus
dost
thou
still
make
good
the
tongue
o’
th’
world
.
And
earn’st
a
deity
equal
with
Mars
.
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
.
As
we
are
men
,
Thus
should
we
do
;
being
sensually
subdued
,
We
lose
our
human
title
.
Good
cheer
,
ladies
.
Now
turn
we
towards
your
comforts
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Palamon
and
Arcite
.
Dear
Palamon
,
dearer
in
love
than
blood
And
our
prime
cousin
,
yet
unhardened
in
The
crimes
of
nature
,
let
us
leave
the
city
Thebes
,
and
the
temptings
in
’t
,
before
we
further
Sully
our
gloss
of
youth
,
And
here
to
keep
in
abstinence
we
shame
As
in
incontinence
;
for
not
to
swim
I’
th’
aid
o’
th’
current
were
almost
to
sink
,
At
least
to
frustrate
striving
;
and
to
follow
The
common
stream
,
’twould
bring
us
to
an
eddy
Where
we
should
turn
or
drown
;
if
labor
through
,
Our
gain
but
life
and
weakness
.
Your
advice
Is
cried
up
with
example
.
What
strange
ruins
,
Since
first
we
went
to
school
,
may
we
perceive
Walking
in
Thebes
!
Scars
and
bare
weeds
The
gain
o’
th’
martialist
,
who
did
propound
To
his
bold
ends
honor
and
golden
ingots
,
Which
though
he
won
,
he
had
not
,
and
now
flirted
By
peace
for
whom
he
fought
.
Who
then
shall
offer
To
Mars’s
so-scorned
altar
?
I
do
bleed
When
such
I
meet
,
and
wish
great
Juno
would
Resume
her
ancient
fit
of
jealousy
To
get
the
soldier
work
,
that
peace
might
purge
For
her
repletion
,
and
retain
anew
Her
charitable
heart
,
now
hard
and
harsher
Than
strife
or
war
could
be
.
Are
you
not
out
?
Meet
you
no
ruin
but
the
soldier
in
The
cranks
and
turns
of
Thebes
?
You
did
begin
As
if
you
met
decays
of
many
kinds
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Perceive
you
none
that
do
arouse
your
pity
But
th’
unconsidered
soldier
?
Yes
,
I
pity
Decays
where’er
I
find
them
,
but
such
most
That
,
sweating
in
an
honorable
toil
,
Are
paid
with
ice
to
cool
’em
.
’Tis
not
this
I
did
begin
to
speak
of
.
This
is
virtue
Of
no
respect
in
Thebes
.
I
spake
of
Thebes
—
How
dangerous
,
if
we
will
keep
our
honors
,
It
is
for
our
residing
,
where
every
evil
Hath
a
good
color
;
where
every
seeming
good’s
A
certain
evil
;
where
not
to
be
e’en
jump
As
they
are
here
were
to
be
strangers
,
and
,
Such
things
to
be
,
mere
monsters
.
’Tis
in
our
power
—
Unless
we
fear
that
apes
can
tutor
’s
—
to
Be
masters
of
our
manners
.
What
need
I
Affect
another’s
gait
,
which
is
not
catching
Where
there
is
faith
?
Or
to
be
fond
upon
Another’s
way
of
speech
,
when
by
mine
own
I
may
be
reasonably
conceived
—
saved
too
,
Speaking
it
truly
?
Why
am
I
bound
By
any
generous
bond
to
follow
him
Follows
his
tailor
,
haply
so
long
until
The
followed
make
pursuit
?
Or
let
me
know
Why
mine
own
barber
is
unblessed
,
with
him
My
poor
chin
too
,
for
’tis
not
scissored
just
To
such
a
favorite’s
glass
?
What
canon
is
there
That
does
command
my
rapier
from
my
hip
To
dangle
’t
in
my
hand
,
or
to
go
tiptoe
Before
the
street
be
foul
?
Either
I
am
The
forehorse
in
the
team
,
or
I
am
none
That
draw
i’
th’
sequent
trace
.
These
poor
slight
sores
ACT 1. SC. 2
Need
not
a
plantain
.
That
which
rips
my
bosom
Almost
to
th’
heart’s
—
Our
Uncle
Creon
.
He
.
A
most
unbounded
tyrant
,
whose
successes
Makes
heaven
unfeared
and
villainy
assured
Beyond
its
power
there’s
nothing
;
almost
puts
Faith
in
a
fever
,
and
deifies
alone
Voluble
chance
;
who
only
attributes
The
faculties
of
other
instruments
To
his
own
nerves
and
act
;
commands
men
service
,
And
what
they
win
in
’t
,
boot
and
glory
;
one
That
fears
not
to
do
harm
;
good
,
dares
not
.
Let
The
blood
of
mine
that’s
sib
to
him
be
sucked
From
me
with
leeches
;
let
them
break
and
fall
Off
me
with
that
corruption
.
Clear-spirited
cousin
,
Let’s
leave
his
court
,
that
we
may
nothing
share
Of
his
loud
infamy
;
for
our
milk
Will
relish
of
the
pasture
,
and
we
must
Be
vile
or
disobedient
,
not
his
kinsmen
In
blood
unless
in
quality
.
Nothing
truer
.
I
think
the
echoes
of
his
shames
have
deafed
The
ears
of
heav’nly
justice
.
Widows’
cries
Descend
again
into
their
throats
and
have
not
Due
audience
of
the
gods
.
Enter
Valerius
.
Valerius
.
The
King
calls
for
you
;
yet
be
leaden-footed
Till
his
great
rage
be
off
him
.
Phoebus
,
when
He
broke
his
whipstock
and
exclaimed
against
The
horses
of
the
sun
,
but
whispered
to
The
loudness
of
his
fury
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Small
winds
shake
him
.
But
what’s
the
matter
?
Theseus
,
who
where
he
threats
appalls
,
hath
sent
Deadly
defiance
to
him
and
pronounces
Ruin
to
Thebes
,
who
is
at
hand
to
seal
The
promise
of
his
wrath
.
Let
him
approach
.
But
that
we
fear
the
gods
in
him
,
he
brings
not
A
jot
of
terror
to
us
.
Yet
what
man
Thirds
his
own
worth
—
the
case
is
each
of
ours
—
When
that
his
action’s
dregged
with
mind
assured
’Tis
bad
he
goes
about
?
Leave
that
unreasoned
.
Our
services
stand
now
for
Thebes
,
not
Creon
.
Yet
to
be
neutral
to
him
were
dishonor
,
Rebellious
to
oppose
.
Therefore
we
must
With
him
stand
to
the
mercy
of
our
fate
,
Who
hath
bounded
our
last
minute
.
So
we
must
.
To
Valerius
.
Is
’t
said
this
war’s
afoot
?
Or
,
it
shall
be
,
On
fail
of
some
condition
?
’Tis
in
motion
;
The
intelligence
of
state
came
in
the
instant
With
the
defier
.
Let’s
to
the
King
,
who
,
were
he
A
quarter
carrier
of
that
honor
which
His
enemy
come
in
,
the
blood
we
venture
Should
be
as
for
our
health
,
which
were
not
spent
,
Rather
laid
out
for
purchase
.
But
alas
,
Our
hands
advanced
before
our
hearts
,
what
will
The
fall
o’
th’
stroke
do
damage
?
Let
th’
event
,
That
never-erring
arbitrator
,
tell
us
ACT 1. SC. 3
When
we
know
all
ourselves
,
and
let
us
follow
The
becking
of
our
chance
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Pirithous
,
Hippolyta
,
Emilia
.
No
further
.
Sir
,
farewell
.
Repeat
my
wishes
To
our
great
lord
,
of
whose
success
I
dare
not
Make
any
timorous
question
;
yet
I
wish
him
Excess
and
overflow
of
power
,
an
’t
might
be
,
To
dure
ill-dealing
fortune
.
Speed
to
him
.
Store
never
hurts
good
governors
.
Though
I
know
His
ocean
needs
not
my
poor
drops
,
yet
they
Must
yield
their
tribute
there
.
—
My
precious
maid
,
Those
best
affections
that
the
heavens
infuse
In
their
best-tempered
pieces
keep
enthroned
In
your
dear
heart
!
Thanks
,
sir
.
Remember
me
To
our
all-royal
brother
,
for
whose
speed
The
great
Bellona
I’ll
solicit
;
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
hearts
Are
in
his
army
,
in
his
tent
.
In
’s
bosom
.
We
have
been
soldiers
,
and
we
cannot
weep
When
our
friends
don
their
helms
or
put
to
sea
,
Or
tell
of
babes
broached
on
the
lance
,
or
women
That
have
sod
their
infants
in
—
and
after
ate
them
—
The
brine
they
wept
at
killing
’em
.
Then
if
ACT 1. SC. 3
You
stay
to
see
of
us
such
spinsters
,
we
Should
hold
you
here
forever
.
Peace
be
to
you
As
I
pursue
this
war
,
which
shall
be
then
Beyond
further
requiring
.
Pirithous
exits
.
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
loss
consider
,
but
Playing
one
business
in
his
hand
,
another
Directing
in
his
head
,
his
mind
nurse
equal
To
these
so
diff’ring
twins
.
Have
you
observed
him
Since
our
great
lord
departed
?
With
much
labor
,
And
I
did
love
him
for
’t
.
They
two
have
cabined
In
many
as
dangerous
as
poor
a
corner
,
Peril
and
want
contending
;
they
have
skiffed
Torrents
whose
roaring
tyranny
and
power
I’
th’
least
of
these
was
dreadful
,
and
they
have
Fought
out
together
where
Death’s
self
was
lodged
.
Yet
fate
hath
brought
them
off
.
Their
knot
of
love
,
Tied
,
weaved
,
entangled
,
with
so
true
,
so
long
,
And
with
a
finger
of
so
deep
a
cunning
,
May
be
outworn
,
never
undone
.
I
think
Theseus
cannot
be
umpire
to
himself
,
Cleaving
his
conscience
into
twain
and
doing
Each
side
like
justice
,
which
he
loves
best
.
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
enriched
,
Who
made
too
proud
the
bed
;
took
leave
o’
th’
moon
,
Which
then
looked
pale
at
parting
,
when
our
count
Was
each
eleven
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
’Twas
Flavina
.
Yes
.
You
talk
of
Pirithous’
and
Theseus’
love
.
Theirs
has
more
ground
,
is
more
maturely
seasoned
,
More
buckled
with
strong
judgment
,
and
their
needs
The
one
of
th’
other
may
be
said
to
water
Their
intertangled
roots
of
love
.
But
I
,
And
she
I
sigh
and
spoke
of
,
were
things
innocent
,
Loved
for
we
did
,
and
like
the
elements
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
,
condemned
,
No
more
arraignment
.
The
flower
that
I
would
pluck
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
haply
hers
careless
were
—
I
followed
For
my
most
serious
decking
.
Had
mine
ear
Stol’n
some
new
air
,
or
at
adventure
hummed
one
From
musical
coinage
,
why
,
it
was
a
note
Whereon
her
spirits
would
sojourn
—
rather
,
dwell
on
—
And
sing
it
in
her
slumbers
.
This
rehearsal
—
Which
fury-innocent
wots
well
comes
in
Like
old
importment’s
bastard
—
has
this
end
,
That
the
true
love
’tween
maid
and
maid
may
be
More
than
in
sex
individual
.
You’re
out
of
breath
,
And
this
high-speeded
pace
is
but
to
say
That
you
shall
never
—
like
the
maid
Flavina
—
Love
any
that’s
called
man
.
I
am
sure
I
shall
not
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Now
,
alack
,
weak
sister
,
I
must
no
more
believe
thee
in
this
point
—
Though
in
’t
I
know
thou
dost
believe
thyself
—
Than
I
will
trust
a
sickly
appetite
,
That
loathes
even
as
it
longs
.
But
sure
,
my
sister
,
If
I
were
ripe
for
your
persuasion
,
you
Have
said
enough
to
shake
me
from
the
arm
Of
the
all-noble
Theseus
,
for
whose
fortunes
I
will
now
in
and
kneel
,
with
great
assurance
That
we
,
more
than
his
Pirithous
,
possess
The
high
throne
in
his
heart
.
I
am
not
Against
your
faith
,
yet
I
continue
mine
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Cornets
.
A
battle
struck
within
;
then
a
retreat
.
Flourish
.
Then
enter
,
through
one
door
,
Theseus
,
victor
,
accompanied
by
Lords
and
Soldiers
.
Entering
through
another
door
,
the
three
Queens
meet
him
,
and
fall
on
their
faces
before
him
.
To
thee
no
star
be
dark
!
Both
heaven
and
Earth
earth
Friend
thee
forever
.
All
the
good
that
may
Be
wished
upon
thy
head
,
I
cry
Amen
to
’t
!
Th’
impartial
gods
,
who
from
the
mounted
heavens
View
us
their
mortal
herd
,
behold
who
err
And
,
in
their
time
,
chastise
.
Go
and
find
out
The
bones
of
your
dead
lords
and
honor
them
With
treble
ceremony
;
rather
than
a
gap
Should
be
in
their
dear
rites
,
we
would
supply
’t
;
ACT 1. SC. 4
But
those
we
will
depute
which
shall
invest
You
in
your
dignities
and
even
each
thing
Our
haste
does
leave
imperfect
.
So
,
adieu
,
And
heaven’s
good
eyes
look
on
you
.
Queens
exit
.
Enter
a
Herald
and
Soldiers
bearing
Palamon
and
Arcite
on
biers
.
What
are
those
?
Men
of
great
quality
,
as
may
be
judged
By
their
appointment
.
Some
of
Thebes
have
told
’s
They
are
sisters’
children
,
nephews
to
the
King
.
By
th’
helm
of
Mars
,
I
saw
them
in
the
war
,
Like
to
a
pair
of
lions
,
smeared
with
prey
,
Make
lanes
in
troops
aghast
.
I
fixed
my
note
Constantly
on
them
,
for
they
were
a
mark
Worth
a
god’s
view
.
What
prisoner
was
’t
that
told
me
When
I
enquired
their
names
?
Wi’
leave
,
they’re
called
Arcite
and
Palamon
.
’Tis
right
;
those
,
those
.
They
are
not
dead
?
Nor
in
a
state
of
life
.
Had
they
been
taken
When
their
last
hurts
were
given
,
’twas
possible
They
might
have
been
recovered
.
Yet
they
breathe
And
have
the
name
of
men
.
Then
like
men
use
’em
.
The
very
lees
of
such
,
millions
of
rates
,
Exceed
the
wine
of
others
.
All
our
surgeons
Convent
in
their
behoof
;
our
richest
balms
,
Rather
than
niggard
,
waste
.
Their
lives
concern
us
Much
more
than
Thebes
is
worth
.
Rather
than
have
’em
ACT 1. SC. 5
Freed
of
this
plight
,
and
in
their
morning
state
,
Sound
and
at
liberty
,
I
would
’em
dead
.
But
forty-thousandfold
we
had
rather
have
’em
Prisoners
to
us
than
Death
.
Bear
’em
speedily
From
our
kind
air
,
to
them
unkind
,
and
minister
What
man
to
man
may
do
—
for
our
sake
,
more
,
Since
I
have
known
frights
,
fury
,
friends’
behests
,
Love’s
provocations
,
zeal
,
a
mistress’
task
,
Desire
of
liberty
,
a
fever
,
madness
,
Hath
set
a
mark
which
nature
could
not
reach
to
Without
some
imposition
,
sickness
in
will
O’er-wrestling
strength
in
reason
.
For
our
love
And
great
Apollo’s
mercy
,
all
our
best
Their
best
skill
tender
.
—
Lead
into
the
city
,
Where
,
having
bound
things
scattered
,
we
will
post
To
Athens
’fore
our
army
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Music
.
Enter
the
Queens
with
the
hearses
of
their
knights
,
in
a
funeral
solemnity
,
&c
.
The
dirge
.
Urns
and
odors
bring
away
;
Vapors
,
sighs
,
darken
the
day
;
Our
dole
more
deadly
looks
than
dying
;
Balms
and
gums
and
heavy
cheers
,
Sacred
vials
filled
with
tears
,
And
clamors
through
the
wild
air
flying
.
Come
,
all
sad
and
solemn
shows
That
are
quick-eyed
Pleasure’s
foes
;
We
convent
naught
else
but
woes
.
We
convent
naught
else
but
woes
.
ACT 1. SC. 5
,
to
Second
Queen
This
funeral
path
brings
to
your
household’s
grave
.
Joy
seize
on
you
again
;
peace
sleep
with
him
.
,
to
First
Queen
And
this
to
yours
.
,
to
Third
Queen
Yours
this
way
.
Heavens
lend
A
thousand
differing
ways
to
one
sure
end
.
This
world’s
a
city
full
of
straying
streets
,
And
death’s
the
market-place
where
each
one
meets
.
They
exit
severally
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Enter
Jailer
and
Wooer
.
I
may
depart
with
little
while
I
live
;
something
I
may
cast
to
you
,
not
much
.
Alas
,
the
prison
I
keep
,
though
it
be
for
great
ones
,
yet
they
seldom
come
;
before
one
salmon
you
shall
take
a
number
of
minnows
.
I
am
given
out
to
be
better
lined
than
it
can
appear
to
me
report
is
a
true
speaker
.
I
would
I
were
really
that
I
am
delivered
to
be
.
Marry
,
what
I
have
,
be
it
what
it
will
,
I
will
assure
upon
my
daughter
at
the
day
of
my
death
.
Sir
,
I
demand
no
more
than
your
own
offer
,
and
I
will
estate
your
daughter
in
what
I
have
promised
.
Well
,
we
will
talk
more
of
this
when
the
solemnity
is
past
.
But
have
you
a
full
promise
of
her
?
When
that
shall
be
seen
,
I
tender
my
consent
.
Enter
the
Jailer’s
Daughter
,
carrying
rushes
.
I
have
sir
.
Here
she
comes
.
,
to
Daughter
Your
friend
and
I
have
chanced
to
name
you
here
,
upon
the
old
business
.
But
no
more
of
that
now
;
so
soon
as
the
court
hurry
is
over
,
we
will
have
an
end
of
it
.
I’
th’
meantime
,
ACT 2. SC. 1
look
tenderly
to
the
two
prisoners
.
I
can
tell
you
they
are
princes
.
These
strewings
are
for
their
chamber
.
’Tis
pity
they
are
in
prison
,
and
’twere
pity
they
should
be
out
.
I
do
think
they
have
patience
to
make
any
adversity
ashamed
.
The
prison
itself
is
proud
of
’em
,
and
they
have
all
the
world
in
their
chamber
.
They
are
famed
to
be
a
pair
of
absolute
men
.
By
my
troth
,
I
think
fame
but
stammers
’em
.
They
stand
a
grise
above
the
reach
of
report
.
I
heard
them
reported
in
the
battle
to
be
the
only
doers
.
Nay
,
most
likely
,
for
they
are
noble
suff’rers
.
I
marvel
how
they
would
have
looked
had
they
been
victors
,
that
with
such
a
constant
nobility
enforce
a
freedom
out
of
bondage
,
making
misery
their
mirth
and
affliction
a
toy
to
jest
at
.
Do
they
so
?
It
seems
to
me
they
have
no
more
sense
of
their
captivity
than
I
of
ruling
Athens
.
They
eat
well
,
look
merrily
,
discourse
of
many
things
,
but
nothing
of
their
own
restraint
and
disasters
.
Yet
sometimes
a
divided
sigh
,
martyred
as
’twere
i’
th’
deliverance
,
will
break
from
one
of
them
—
when
the
other
presently
gives
it
so
sweet
a
rebuke
that
I
could
wish
myself
a
sigh
to
be
so
chid
,
or
at
least
a
sigher
to
be
comforted
.
I
never
saw
’em
.
The
Duke
himself
came
privately
in
the
night
,
and
so
did
they
.
Enter
Palamon
and
Arcite
,
in
shackles
,
above
.
What
the
reason
of
it
is
,
I
know
not
.
Look
,
yonder
they
are
;
that’s
Arcite
looks
out
.
No
,
sir
,
no
,
that’s
Palamon
.
Arcite
is
the
ACT 2. SC. 2
lower
of
the
twain
;
you
may
perceive
a
part
of
him
.
Go
to
,
leave
your
pointing
;
they
would
not
make
us
their
object
.
Out
of
their
sight
.
It
is
a
holiday
to
look
on
them
.
Lord
,
the
diff’rence
of
men
!
Jailer
,
Daughter
,
and
Wooer
exit
.
Scene
2
Palamon
and
Arcite
remain
,
above
.
How
do
you
,
noble
cousin
?
How
do
you
,
sir
?
Why
,
strong
enough
to
laugh
at
misery
And
bear
the
chance
of
war
;
yet
we
are
prisoners
I
fear
forever
,
cousin
.
I
believe
it
,
And
to
that
destiny
have
patiently
Laid
up
my
hour
to
come
.
O
,
cousin
Arcite
,
Where
is
Thebes
now
?
Where
is
our
noble
country
?
Where
are
our
friends
and
kindreds
?
Never
more
Must
we
behold
those
comforts
,
never
see
The
hardy
youths
strive
for
the
games
of
honor
,
Hung
with
the
painted
favors
of
their
ladies
,
Like
tall
ships
under
sail
;
then
start
amongst
’em
And
as
an
east
wind
leave
’em
all
behind
us
,
Like
lazy
clouds
,
whilst
Palamon
and
Arcite
,
Even
in
the
wagging
of
a
wanton
leg
,
Outstripped
the
people’s
praises
,
won
the
garlands
Ere
they
have
time
to
wish
’em
ours
.
O
,
never
Shall
we
two
exercise
,
like
twins
of
honor
,
Our
arms
again
,
and
feel
our
fiery
horses
ACT 2. SC. 2
Like
proud
seas
under
us
.
Our
good
swords
now
—
Better
the
red-eyed
god
of
war
ne’er
wore
—
Ravished
our
sides
,
like
age
must
run
to
rust
And
deck
the
temples
of
those
gods
that
hate
us
;
These
hands
shall
never
draw
’em
out
like
lightning
To
blast
whole
armies
more
.
No
,
Palamon
,
Those
hopes
are
prisoners
with
us
.
Here
we
are
And
here
the
graces
of
our
youths
must
wither
Like
a
too-timely
spring
.
Here
age
must
find
us
And
—
which
is
heaviest
,
Palamon
—
unmarried
.
The
sweet
embraces
of
a
loving
wife
,
Loaden
with
kisses
,
armed
with
thousand
Cupids
,
Shall
never
clasp
our
necks
;
no
issue
know
us
—
No
figures
of
ourselves
shall
we
e’er
see
,
To
glad
our
age
,
and
like
young
eagles
teach
’em
Boldly
to
gaze
against
bright
arms
and
say
Remember
what
your
fathers
were
,
and
conquer
!
The
fair-eyed
maids
shall
weep
our
banishments
And
in
their
songs
curse
ever-blinded
Fortune
Till
she
for
shame
see
what
a
wrong
she
has
done
To
youth
and
nature
.
This
is
all
our
world
.
We
shall
know
nothing
here
but
one
another
,
Hear
nothing
but
the
clock
that
tells
our
woes
.
The
vine
shall
grow
,
but
we
shall
never
see
it
;
Summer
shall
come
,
and
with
her
all
delights
,
But
dead-cold
winter
must
inhabit
here
still
.
’Tis
too
true
,
Arcite
.
To
our
Theban
hounds
That
shook
the
agèd
forest
with
their
echoes
No
more
now
must
we
halloo
;
no
more
shake
Our
pointed
javelins
whilst
the
angry
swine
Flies
like
a
Parthian
quiver
from
our
rages
,
Struck
with
our
well-steeled
darts
.
All
valiant
uses
,
The
food
and
nourishment
of
noble
minds
,
In
us
two
here
shall
perish
;
we
shall
die
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
Which
is
the
curse
of
honor
,
lastly
,
Children
of
grief
and
ignorance
.
Yet
,
cousin
,
Even
from
the
bottom
of
these
miseries
,
From
all
that
fortune
can
inflict
upon
us
,
I
see
two
comforts
rising
,
two
mere
blessings
,
If
the
gods
please
:
to
hold
here
a
brave
patience
,
And
the
enjoying
of
our
griefs
together
.
Whilst
Palamon
is
with
me
,
let
me
perish
If
I
think
this
our
prison
!
Certainly
’Tis
a
main
goodness
,
cousin
,
that
our
fortunes
Were
twined
together
.
’Tis
most
true
,
two
souls
Put
in
two
noble
bodies
,
let
’em
suffer
The
gall
of
hazard
,
so
they
grow
together
,
Will
never
sink
;
they
must
not
,
say
they
could
.
A
willing
man
dies
sleeping
and
all’s
done
.
Shall
we
make
worthy
uses
of
this
place
That
all
men
hate
so
much
?
How
,
gentle
cousin
?
Let’s
think
this
prison
holy
sanctuary
To
keep
us
from
corruption
of
worse
men
.
We
are
young
and
yet
desire
the
ways
of
honor
That
liberty
and
common
conversation
,
The
poison
of
pure
spirits
,
might
like
women
Woo
us
to
wander
from
.
What
worthy
blessing
Can
be
but
our
imaginations
May
make
it
ours
?
And
here
being
thus
together
,
We
are
an
endless
mine
to
one
another
;
We
are
one
another’s
wife
,
ever
begetting
New
births
of
love
;
we
are
father
,
friends
,
acquaintance
;
We
are
,
in
one
another
,
families
;
I
am
your
heir
,
and
you
are
mine
.
This
place
ACT 2. SC. 2
Is
our
inheritance
;
no
hard
oppressor
Dare
take
this
from
us
;
here
with
a
little
patience
We
shall
live
long
and
loving
.
No
surfeits
seek
us
;
The
hand
of
war
hurts
none
here
,
nor
the
seas
Swallow
their
youth
.
Were
we
at
liberty
,
A
wife
might
part
us
lawfully
,
or
business
;
Quarrels
consume
us
;
envy
of
ill
men
Crave
our
acquaintance
.
I
might
sicken
,
cousin
,
Where
you
should
never
know
it
,
and
so
perish
Without
your
noble
hand
to
close
mine
eyes
,
Or
prayers
to
the
gods
.
A
thousand
chances
,
Were
we
from
hence
,
would
sever
us
.
You
have
made
me
—
I
thank
you
,
cousin
Arcite
—
almost
wanton
With
my
captivity
.
What
a
misery
It
is
to
live
abroad
and
everywhere
!
’Tis
like
a
beast
,
methinks
.
I
find
the
court
here
,
I
am
sure
,
a
more
content
;
and
all
those
pleasures
That
woo
the
wills
of
men
to
vanity
I
see
through
now
,
and
am
sufficient
To
tell
the
world
’tis
but
a
gaudy
shadow
That
old
Time
as
he
passes
by
takes
with
him
.
What
had
we
been
,
old
in
the
court
of
Creon
,
Where
sin
is
justice
,
lust
and
ignorance
The
virtues
of
the
great
ones
?
Cousin
Arcite
,
Had
not
the
loving
gods
found
this
place
for
us
,
We
had
died
as
they
do
,
ill
old
men
,
unwept
,
And
had
their
epitaphs
,
the
people’s
curses
.
Shall
I
say
more
?
I
would
hear
you
still
.
You
shall
.
Is
there
record
of
any
two
that
loved
Better
than
we
do
,
Arcite
?
Sure
there
cannot
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
I
do
not
think
it
possible
our
friendship
Should
ever
leave
us
.
Till
our
deaths
it
cannot
.
Enter
Emilia
and
her
Woman
,
below
.
And
after
death
our
spirits
shall
be
led
To
those
that
love
eternally
.
Palamon
catches
sight
of
Emilia
.
Speak
on
,
sir
.
,
to
her
Woman
This
garden
has
a
world
of
pleasures
in
’t
.
What
flower
is
this
?
’Tis
called
narcissus
,
madam
.
That
was
a
fair
boy
certain
,
but
a
fool
To
love
himself
.
Were
there
not
maids
enough
?
,
to
Palamon
,
who
is
stunned
by
the
sight
of
Emilia
Pray
,
forward
.
Yes
.
,
to
Woman
Or
were
they
all
hard-hearted
?
They
could
not
be
to
one
so
fair
.
Thou
wouldst
not
.
I
think
I
should
not
,
madam
.
That’s
a
good
wench
.
But
take
heed
to
your
kindness
,
though
.
Why
,
madam
?
Men
are
mad
things
.
,
to
Palamon
Will
you
go
forward
,
cousin
?
,
to
Woman
Canst
not
thou
work
such
flowers
in
silk
,
wench
?
Yes
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
I’ll
have
a
gown
full
of
’em
,
and
of
these
.
This
is
pretty
color
.
Will
’t
not
do
Rarely
upon
a
skirt
,
wench
?
Dainty
,
madam
.
,
to
Palamon
Cousin
,
cousin
!
How
do
you
,
sir
?
Why
,
Palamon
!
Never
till
now
I
was
in
prison
,
Arcite
.
Why
,
what’s
the
matter
,
man
?
Behold
,
and
wonder
!
By
heaven
,
she
is
a
goddess
.
,
seeing
Emilia
Ha
!
Do
reverence
.
She
is
a
goddess
,
Arcite
.
,
to
Woman
Of
all
flowers
Methinks
a
rose
is
best
.
Why
,
gentle
madam
?
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
beauties
in
her
bud
again
,
And
leaves
him
to
base
briers
.
Yet
,
good
madam
,
Sometimes
her
modesty
will
blow
so
far
She
falls
for
’t
.
A
maid
,
If
she
have
any
honor
,
would
be
loath
To
take
example
by
her
.
Thou
art
wanton
!
,
to
Palamon
She
is
wondrous
fair
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
She
is
all
the
beauty
extant
.
,
to
Woman
The
sun
grows
high
.
Let’s
walk
in
.
Keep
these
flowers
.
We’ll
see
how
near
art
can
come
near
their
colors
.
I
am
wondrous
merry-hearted
.
I
could
laugh
now
.
I
could
lie
down
,
I
am
sure
.
And
take
one
with
you
?
That’s
as
we
bargain
,
madam
.
Well
,
agree
then
.
Emilia
and
Woman
exit
.
What
think
you
of
this
beauty
?
’Tis
a
rare
one
.
Is
’t
but
a
rare
one
?
Yes
,
a
matchless
beauty
.
Might
not
a
man
well
lose
himself
and
love
her
?
I
cannot
tell
what
you
have
done
;
I
have
,
Beshrew
mine
eyes
for
’t
!
Now
I
feel
my
shackles
.
You
love
her
,
then
?
Who
would
not
?
And
desire
her
?
Before
my
liberty
.
I
saw
her
first
.
That’s
nothing
.
But
it
shall
be
.
I
saw
her
,
too
.
Yes
,
but
you
must
not
love
her
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
I
will
not
,
as
you
do
,
to
worship
her
As
she
is
heavenly
and
a
blessèd
goddess
.
I
love
her
as
a
woman
,
to
enjoy
her
.
So
both
may
love
.
You
shall
not
love
at
all
.
Not
love
at
all
!
Who
shall
deny
me
?
I
,
that
first
saw
her
;
I
that
took
possession
First
with
mine
eye
of
all
those
beauties
In
her
revealed
to
mankind
.
If
thou
lov’st
her
,
Or
entertain’st
a
hope
to
blast
my
wishes
,
Thou
art
a
traitor
,
Arcite
,
and
a
fellow
False
as
thy
title
to
her
.
Friendship
,
blood
,
And
all
the
ties
between
us
I
disclaim
If
thou
once
think
upon
her
.
Yes
,
I
love
her
,
And
,
if
the
lives
of
all
my
name
lay
on
it
,
I
must
do
so
.
I
love
her
with
my
soul
.
If
that
will
lose
you
,
farewell
,
Palamon
.
I
say
again
,
I
love
,
and
in
loving
her
maintain
I
am
as
worthy
and
as
free
a
lover
And
have
as
just
a
title
to
her
beauty
As
any
Palamon
or
any
living
That
is
a
man’s
son
.
Have
I
called
thee
friend
?
Yes
,
and
have
found
me
so
.
Why
are
you
moved
thus
?
Let
me
deal
coldly
with
you
:
am
not
I
Part
of
your
blood
,
part
of
your
soul
?
You
have
told
me
That
I
was
Palamon
and
you
were
Arcite
.
Yes
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Am
not
I
liable
to
those
affections
,
Those
joys
,
griefs
,
angers
,
fears
,
my
friend
shall
suffer
?
You
may
be
.
Why
then
would
you
deal
so
cunningly
,
So
strangely
,
so
unlike
a
noble
kinsman
,
To
love
alone
?
Speak
truly
,
do
you
think
me
Unworthy
of
her
sight
?
No
,
but
unjust
If
thou
pursue
that
sight
.
Because
another
First
sees
the
enemy
,
shall
I
stand
still
And
let
mine
honor
down
,
and
never
charge
?
Yes
,
if
he
be
but
one
.
But
say
that
one
Had
rather
combat
me
?
Let
that
one
say
so
,
And
use
thy
freedom
.
Else
,
if
thou
pursuest
her
,
Be
as
that
cursèd
man
that
hates
his
country
,
A
branded
villain
.
You
are
mad
.
I
must
be
.
Till
thou
art
worthy
,
Arcite
,
it
concerns
me
.
And
in
this
madness
if
I
hazard
thee
And
take
thy
life
,
I
deal
but
truly
.
Fie
,
sir
!
You
play
the
child
extremely
.
I
will
love
her
;
I
must
,
I
ought
to
do
so
,
and
I
dare
,
And
all
this
justly
.
O
,
that
now
,
that
now
,
Thy
false
self
and
thy
friend
had
but
this
fortune
To
be
one
hour
at
liberty
,
and
grasp
Our
good
swords
in
our
hands
,
I
would
quickly
teach
thee
ACT 2. SC. 2
What
’twere
to
filch
affection
from
another
.
Thou
art
baser
in
it
than
a
cutpurse
.
Put
but
thy
head
out
of
this
window
more
And
,
as
I
have
a
soul
,
I’ll
nail
thy
life
to
’t
.
Thou
dar’st
not
,
fool
;
thou
canst
not
;
thou
art
feeble
.
Put
my
head
out
?
I’ll
throw
my
body
out
And
leap
the
garden
when
I
see
her
next
,
And
pitch
between
her
arms
to
anger
thee
.
Enter
Jailer
,
above
.
No
more
;
the
keeper’s
coming
.
I
shall
live
To
knock
thy
brains
out
with
my
shackles
.
Do
!
By
your
leave
,
gentlemen
.
Now
,
honest
keeper
?
Lord
Arcite
,
you
must
presently
to
th’
Duke
;
The
cause
I
know
not
yet
.
I
am
ready
,
keeper
.
Prince
Palamon
,
I
must
awhile
bereave
you
Of
your
fair
cousin’s
company
.
Arcite
and
Jailer
exit
.
And
me
too
,
Even
when
you
please
,
of
life
.
—
Why
is
he
sent
for
?
It
may
be
he
shall
marry
her
;
he’s
goodly
,
And
like
enough
the
Duke
hath
taken
notice
Both
of
his
blood
and
body
.
But
his
falsehood
!
Why
should
a
friend
be
treacherous
?
If
that
Get
him
a
wife
so
noble
and
so
fair
,
Let
honest
men
ne’er
love
again
.
Once
more
I
would
but
see
this
fair
one
.
Blessèd
garden
ACT 2. SC. 2
And
fruit
and
flowers
more
blessèd
that
still
blossom
As
her
bright
eyes
shine
on
you
,
would
I
were
,
For
all
the
fortune
of
my
life
hereafter
,
Yon
little
tree
,
yon
blooming
apricock
!
How
I
would
spread
and
fling
my
wanton
arms
In
at
her
window
;
I
would
bring
her
fruit
Fit
for
the
gods
to
feed
on
;
youth
and
pleasure
Still
as
she
tasted
should
be
doubled
on
her
;
And
,
if
she
be
not
heavenly
,
I
would
make
her
So
near
the
gods
in
nature
,
they
should
fear
her
.
Enter
Jailer
,
above
.
And
then
I
am
sure
she
would
love
me
.
—
How
now
,
keeper
,
Where’s
Arcite
?
Banished
.
Prince
Pirithous
Obtained
his
liberty
,
but
never
more
Upon
his
oath
and
life
must
he
set
foot
Upon
this
kingdom
.
He’s
a
blessèd
man
.
He
shall
see
Thebes
again
,
and
call
to
arms
The
bold
young
men
that
,
when
he
bids
’em
charge
,
Fall
on
like
fire
.
Arcite
shall
have
a
fortune
,
If
he
dare
make
himself
a
worthy
lover
,
Yet
in
the
field
to
strike
a
battle
for
her
,
And
,
if
he
lose
her
then
,
he’s
a
cold
coward
.
How
bravely
may
he
bear
himself
to
win
her
If
he
be
noble
Arcite
—
thousand
ways
!
Were
I
at
liberty
,
I
would
do
things
Of
such
a
virtuous
greatness
that
this
lady
,
This
blushing
virgin
,
should
take
manhood
to
her
And
seek
to
ravish
me
.
My
lord
,
for
you
I
have
this
charge
to
—
To
discharge
my
life
?
ACT 2. SC. 2
No
,
but
from
this
place
to
remove
your
Lordship
;
The
windows
are
too
open
.
Devils
take
’em
That
are
so
envious
to
me
!
Prithee
,
kill
me
.
And
hang
for
’t
afterward
!
By
this
good
light
,
Had
I
a
sword
I
would
kill
thee
.
Why
,
my
lord
?
Thou
bringst
such
pelting
,
scurvy
news
continually
,
Thou
art
not
worthy
life
.
I
will
not
go
.
Indeed
you
must
,
my
lord
.
May
I
see
the
garden
?
No
.
Then
I
am
resolved
,
I
will
not
go
.
I
must
constrain
you
then
;
and
,
for
you
are
dangerous
,
I’ll
clap
more
irons
on
you
.
Do
,
good
keeper
.
I’ll
shake
’em
so
,
you
shall
not
sleep
;
I’ll
make
you
a
new
morris
.
Must
I
go
?
There
is
no
remedy
.
Farewell
,
kind
window
.
May
rude
wind
never
hurt
thee
.
O
,
my
lady
,
If
ever
thou
hast
felt
what
sorrow
was
,
Dream
how
I
suffer
.
—
Come
;
now
bury
me
.
Palamon
and
Jailer
exit
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
Arcite
.
Banished
the
kingdom
?
’Tis
a
benefit
,
A
mercy
I
must
thank
’em
for
;
but
banished
The
free
enjoying
of
that
face
I
die
for
,
O
,
’twas
a
studied
punishment
,
a
death
Beyond
imagination
—
such
a
vengeance
That
,
were
I
old
and
wicked
,
all
my
sins
Could
never
pluck
upon
me
.
Palamon
,
Thou
hast
the
start
now
;
thou
shalt
stay
and
see
Her
bright
eyes
break
each
morning
’gainst
thy
window
And
let
in
life
into
thee
;
thou
shalt
feed
Upon
the
sweetness
of
a
noble
beauty
That
nature
ne’er
exceeded
nor
ne’er
shall
.
Good
gods
,
what
happiness
has
Palamon
!
Twenty
to
one
he’ll
come
to
speak
to
her
,
And
if
she
be
as
gentle
as
she’s
fair
,
I
know
she’s
his
.
He
has
a
tongue
will
tame
Tempests
and
make
the
wild
rocks
wanton
.
Come
what
can
come
,
The
worst
is
death
.
I
will
not
leave
the
kingdom
.
I
know
mine
own
is
but
a
heap
of
ruins
,
And
no
redress
there
.
If
I
go
,
he
has
her
.
I
am
resolved
another
shape
shall
make
me
Or
end
my
fortunes
.
Either
way
I
am
happy
.
I’ll
see
her
and
be
near
her
,
or
no
more
.
Enter
four
Country
people
,
and
one
with
a
garland
before
them
.
Arcite
steps
aside
.
My
masters
,
I’ll
be
there
,
that’s
certain
.
And
I’ll
be
there
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
And
I
.
Why
,
then
,
have
with
you
,
boys
.
’Tis
but
a
chiding
.
Let
the
plough
play
today
;
I’ll
tickle
’t
out
of
the
jades’
tails
tomorrow
.
I
am
sure
to
have
my
wife
as
jealous
as
a
turkey
,
but
that’s
all
one
.
I’ll
go
through
;
let
her
mumble
.
Clap
her
aboard
tomorrow
night
and
stow
her
,
and
all’s
made
up
again
.
Ay
,
do
but
put
a
fescue
in
her
fist
and
you
shall
see
her
take
a
new
lesson
out
and
be
a
good
wench
.
Do
we
all
hold
against
the
Maying
?
Hold
?
What
should
ail
us
?
Arcas
will
be
there
.
And
Sennois
and
Rycas
;
and
three
better
lads
ne’er
danced
under
green
tree
.
And
you
know
what
wenches
,
ha
!
But
will
the
dainty
domine
,
the
Schoolmaster
,
keep
touch
,
do
you
think
?
For
he
does
all
,
you
know
.
He’ll
eat
a
hornbook
ere
he
fail
.
Go
to
,
the
matter’s
too
far
driven
between
him
and
the
tanner’s
daughter
to
let
slip
now
;
and
she
must
see
the
Duke
,
and
she
must
dance
too
.
Shall
we
be
lusty
?
All
the
boys
in
Athens
blow
wind
i’
th’
breech
on
’s
.
And
here
I’ll
be
and
there
I’ll
be
,
for
our
town
,
and
here
again
,
and
there
again
.
Ha
,
boys
,
hey
for
the
weavers
!
This
must
be
done
i’
th’
woods
.
O
pardon
me
.
By
any
means
;
our
thing
of
learning
says
so
—
where
he
himself
will
edify
the
Duke
most
parlously
in
our
behalfs
.
He’s
excellent
i’
th’
woods
;
bring
him
to
th’
plains
,
his
learning
makes
no
cry
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
We’ll
see
the
sports
,
then
every
man
to
’s
tackle
.
And
,
sweet
companions
,
let’s
rehearse
,
by
any
means
,
before
the
ladies
see
us
,
and
do
sweetly
,
and
God
knows
what
may
come
on
’t
.
Content
.
The
sports
once
ended
,
we’ll
perform
.
Away
,
boys
,
and
hold
.
Arcite
comes
forward
.
By
your
leaves
,
honest
friends
:
pray
you
,
whither
go
you
?
Whither
?
Why
,
what
a
question’s
that
?
Yes
,
’tis
a
question
To
me
that
know
not
.
To
the
games
,
my
friend
.
Where
were
you
bred
,
you
know
it
not
?
Not
far
,
sir
.
Are
there
such
games
today
?
Yes
,
marry
,
are
there
,
And
such
as
you
never
saw
.
The
Duke
himself
Will
be
in
person
there
.
What
pastimes
are
they
?
Wrestling
and
running
.
—
’Tis
a
pretty
fellow
.
Thou
wilt
not
go
along
?
Not
yet
,
sir
.
Well
,
sir
,
Take
your
own
time
.
—
Come
,
boys
.
,
aside
to
the
others
My
mind
misgives
me
.
This
fellow
has
a
vengeance
trick
o’
th’
hip
.
Mark
how
his
body’s
made
for
’t
.
,
aside
to
the
others
I’ll
be
hanged
,
though
,
if
he
dare
venture
.
Hang
him
,
plum
porridge
!
He
wrestle
?
He
roast
eggs
!
Come
,
let’s
be
gone
,
lads
.
The
four
exit
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
This
is
an
offered
opportunity
I
durst
not
wish
for
.
Well
I
could
have
wrestled
—
The
best
men
called
it
excellent
—
and
run
Swifter
than
wind
upon
a
field
of
corn
,
Curling
the
wealthy
ears
,
never
flew
.
I’ll
venture
,
And
in
some
poor
disguise
be
there
.
Who
knows
Whether
my
brows
may
not
be
girt
with
garlands
,
And
happiness
prefer
me
to
a
place
Where
I
may
ever
dwell
in
sight
of
her
?
Arcite
exits
.
Scene
4
Enter
Jailer’s
Daughter
,
alone
.
Why
should
I
love
this
gentleman
?
’Tis
odds
He
never
will
affect
me
.
I
am
base
,
My
father
the
mean
keeper
of
his
prison
,
And
he
a
prince
.
To
marry
him
is
hopeless
;
To
be
his
whore
is
witless
.
Out
upon
’t
!
What
pushes
are
we
wenches
driven
to
When
fifteen
once
has
found
us
!
First
,
I
saw
him
;
I
,
seeing
,
thought
he
was
a
goodly
man
;
He
has
as
much
to
please
a
woman
in
him
,
If
he
please
to
bestow
it
so
,
as
ever
These
eyes
yet
looked
on
.
Next
,
I
pitied
him
,
And
so
would
any
young
wench
,
o’
my
conscience
,
That
ever
dreamed
,
or
vowed
her
maidenhead
To
a
young
handsome
man
.
Then
I
loved
him
,
Extremely
loved
him
,
infinitely
loved
him
!
And
yet
he
had
a
cousin
,
fair
as
he
too
.
But
in
my
heart
was
Palamon
,
and
there
,
Lord
,
what
a
coil
he
keeps
!
To
hear
him
Sing
in
an
evening
,
what
a
heaven
it
is
!
ACT 2. SC. 5
And
yet
his
songs
are
sad
ones
.
Fairer
spoken
Was
never
gentleman
.
When
I
come
in
To
bring
him
water
in
a
morning
,
first
He
bows
his
noble
body
,
then
salutes
me
thus
:
Fair
,
gentle
maid
,
good
morrow
.
May
thy
goodness
Get
thee
a
happy
husband
.
Once
he
kissed
me
;
I
loved
my
lips
the
better
ten
days
after
.
Would
he
would
do
so
ev’ry
day
!
He
grieves
much
—
And
me
as
much
to
see
his
misery
.
What
should
I
do
to
make
him
know
I
love
him
?
For
I
would
fain
enjoy
him
.
Say
I
ventured
To
set
him
free
?
What
says
the
law
then
?
Thus
much
for
law
or
kindred
!
I
will
do
it
,
And
this
night
,
or
tomorrow
,
he
shall
love
me
.
She
exits
.
Scene
5
This
short
flourish
of
cornets
and
shouts
within
.
Enter
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
Pirithous
,
Emilia
,
Arcite
in
disguise
,
with
a
garland
,
Attendants
,
and
others
.
,
to
Arcite
You
have
done
worthily
.
I
have
not
seen
,
Since
Hercules
,
a
man
of
tougher
sinews
.
Whate’er
you
are
,
you
run
the
best
and
wrestle
That
these
times
can
allow
.
I
am
proud
to
please
you
.
What
country
bred
you
?
This
;
but
far
off
,
prince
.
Are
you
a
gentleman
?
My
father
said
so
,
And
to
those
gentle
uses
gave
me
life
.
ACT 2. SC. 5
Are
you
his
heir
?
His
youngest
,
sir
.
Your
father
,
Sure
,
is
a
happy
sire
,
then
.
What
proves
you
?
A
little
of
all
noble
qualities
.
I
could
have
kept
a
hawk
and
well
have
hallowed
To
a
deep
cry
of
dogs
.
I
dare
not
praise
My
feat
in
horsemanship
,
yet
they
that
knew
me
Would
say
it
was
my
best
piece
.
Last
,
and
greatest
,
I
would
be
thought
a
soldier
.
You
are
perfect
.
Upon
my
soul
,
a
proper
man
.
He
is
so
.
,
to
Hippolyta
How
do
you
like
him
,
lady
?
I
admire
him
.
I
have
not
seen
so
young
a
man
so
noble
,
If
he
say
true
,
of
his
sort
.
Believe
,
His
mother
was
a
wondrous
handsome
woman
;
His
face
,
methinks
,
goes
that
way
.
But
his
body
And
fiery
mind
illustrate
a
brave
father
.
Mark
how
his
virtue
,
like
a
hidden
sun
,
Breaks
through
his
baser
garments
.
He’s
well
got
,
sure
.
,
to
Arcite
What
made
you
seek
this
place
,
sir
?
Noble
Theseus
,
To
purchase
name
and
do
my
ablest
service
To
such
a
well-found
wonder
as
thy
worth
;
ACT 2. SC. 5
For
only
in
thy
court
,
of
all
the
world
,
Dwells
fair-eyed
Honor
.
All
his
words
are
worthy
.
Sir
,
we
are
much
indebted
to
your
travel
,
Nor
shall
you
lose
your
wish
.
—
Pirithous
,
Dispose
of
this
fair
gentleman
.
Thanks
,
Theseus
.
—
Whate’er
you
are
,
you’re
mine
,
and
I
shall
give
you
To
a
most
noble
service
:
to
this
lady
,
This
bright
young
virgin
.
He
brings
Arcite
to
Emilia
.
Pray
observe
her
goodness
;
You
have
honored
her
fair
birthday
with
your
virtues
,
And
,
as
your
due
,
you’re
hers
.
Kiss
her
fair
hand
,
sir
.
Sir
,
you’re
a
noble
giver
.
—
Dearest
beauty
,
Thus
let
me
seal
my
vowed
faith
.
He
kisses
her
hand
.
When
your
servant
,
Your
most
unworthy
creature
,
but
offends
you
,
Command
him
die
,
he
shall
.
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
.
,
to
Arcite
I’ll
see
you
furnished
,
and
because
you
say
You
are
a
horseman
,
I
must
needs
entreat
you
This
afternoon
to
ride
—
but
’tis
a
rough
one
.
I
like
him
better
,
prince
;
I
shall
not
then
Freeze
in
my
saddle
.
,
to
Hippolyta
Sweet
,
you
must
be
ready
,
—
And
you
,
Emilia
,
—
and
you
,
friend
,
—
and
all
,
ACT 2. SC. 6
Tomorrow
by
the
sun
,
to
do
observance
To
flowery
May
in
Dian’s
wood
.
—
Wait
well
,
sir
,
Upon
your
mistress
.
—
Emily
,
I
hope
He
shall
not
go
afoot
.
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
.
If
I
do
not
,
Let
me
find
that
my
father
ever
hated
,
Disgrace
and
blows
.
Go
lead
the
way
;
you
have
won
it
.
It
shall
be
so
;
you
shall
receive
all
dues
Fit
for
the
honor
you
have
won
.
’Twere
wrong
else
.
—
Sister
,
beshrew
my
heart
,
you
have
a
servant
That
,
if
I
were
a
woman
,
would
be
master
;
But
you
are
wise
.
I
hope
too
wise
for
that
,
sir
.
Flourish
.
They
all
exit
.
Scene
6
Enter
Jailer’s
Daughter
alone
.
Let
all
the
dukes
and
all
the
devils
roar
!
He
is
at
liberty
.
I
have
ventured
for
him
,
And
out
I
have
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
.
O
Love
,
What
a
stout-hearted
child
thou
art
!
My
father
Durst
better
have
endured
cold
iron
than
done
it
.
ACT 2. SC. 6
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
thanked
me
For
what
I
have
done
;
no
,
not
so
much
as
kissed
me
,
And
that
,
methinks
,
is
not
so
well
;
nor
scarcely
Could
I
persuade
him
to
become
a
free
man
,
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
venture
,
So
he
be
with
me
.
By
him
like
a
shadow
I’ll
ever
dwell
.
Within
this
hour
the
hubbub
Will
be
all
o’er
the
prison
.
I
am
then
Kissing
the
man
they
look
for
.
Farewell
,
father
!
Get
many
more
such
prisoners
and
such
daughters
,
And
shortly
you
may
keep
yourself
.
Now
to
him
.
She
exits
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Cornets
in
sundry
places
.
Noise
and
hallowing
as
people
a-Maying
.
Enter
Arcite
alone
.
The
Duke
has
lost
Hippolyta
;
each
took
A
several
laund
.
This
is
a
solemn
rite
They
owe
bloomed
May
,
and
the
Athenians
pay
it
To
th’
heart
of
ceremony
.
O
Queen
Emilia
,
Fresher
than
May
,
sweeter
Than
her
gold
buttons
on
the
boughs
,
or
all
Th’
enameled
knacks
o’
th’
mead
or
garden
—
yea
,
We
challenge
too
the
bank
of
any
nymph
That
makes
the
stream
seem
flowers
;
thou
,
O
jewel
O’
th’
wood
,
o’
th’
world
,
hast
likewise
blessed
a
pace
With
thy
sole
presence
.
In
thy
rumination
That
I
,
poor
man
,
might
eftsoons
come
between
And
chop
on
some
cold
thought
!
Thrice
blessèd
chance
To
drop
on
such
a
mistress
,
expectation
Most
guiltless
on
’t
.
Tell
me
,
O
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
ACT 3. SC. 1
Be
by
a
pair
of
kings
backed
,
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
eared
her
language
,
lived
in
her
eye
—
O
coz
,
What
passion
would
enclose
thee
!
Enter
Palamon
as
out
of
a
bush
,
with
his
shackles
;
he
bends
his
fist
at
Arcite
.
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
confessed
traitor
,
O
thou
most
perfidious
That
ever
gently
looked
,
the
void’st
of
honor
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
—
Dear
cousin
Palamon
—
Cozener
Arcite
,
give
me
language
such
As
thou
hast
showed
me
feat
.
Not
finding
in
The
circuit
of
my
breast
any
gross
stuff
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
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
Cannot
to
me
be
kind
.
Honor
and
honesty
I
cherish
and
depend
on
,
howsoe’er
You
skip
them
in
me
,
and
with
them
,
fair
coz
,
I’ll
maintain
my
proceedings
.
Pray
be
pleased
To
show
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
gentleman
.
That
thou
durst
,
Arcite
!
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
.
Sir
,
I
have
seen
you
move
in
such
a
place
which
well
Might
justify
your
manhood
;
you
were
called
A
good
knight
and
a
bold
.
But
the
whole
week’s
not
fair
If
any
day
it
rain
;
their
valiant
temper
Men
lose
when
they
incline
to
treachery
,
And
then
they
fight
like
compelled
bears
—
would
fly
Were
they
not
tied
.
Kinsman
,
you
might
as
well
Speak
this
and
act
it
in
your
glass
as
to
His
ear
which
now
disdains
you
.
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
ACT 3. SC. 1
Some
news
from
Earth
earth
,
they
shall
get
none
but
this
:
That
thou
art
brave
and
noble
.
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
armor
.
O
you
heavens
,
dares
any
So
noble
bear
a
guilty
business
?
None
But
only
Arcite
.
Therefore
none
but
Arcite
In
this
kind
is
so
bold
.
Sweet
Palamon
.
I
do
embrace
you
and
your
offer
;
for
Your
offer
do
’t
I
only
.
Sir
,
your
person
Without
hypocrisy
I
may
not
wish
More
than
my
sword’s
edge
on
’t
.
Wind
horns
off
;
sound
cornets
.
You
hear
the
horns
.
Enter
your
muset
,
lest
this
match
between
’s
Be
crossed
ere
met
.
Give
me
your
hand
;
farewell
.
I’ll
bring
you
every
needful
thing
.
I
pray
you
,
Take
comfort
and
be
strong
.
Pray
hold
your
promise
,
And
do
the
deed
with
a
bent
brow
.
Most
certain
You
love
me
not
;
be
rough
with
me
,
and
pour
This
oil
out
of
your
language
.
By
this
air
,
I
could
for
each
word
give
a
cuff
,
my
stomach
Not
reconciled
by
reason
.
Plainly
spoken
,
Yet
pardon
me
hard
language
.
When
I
spur
My
horse
,
I
chide
him
not
;
content
and
anger
ACT 3. SC. 2
In
me
have
but
one
face
.
Wind
horns
.
Hark
,
sir
,
they
call
The
scattered
to
the
banquet
;
you
must
guess
I
have
an
office
there
.
Sir
,
your
attendance
Cannot
please
heaven
,
and
I
know
your
office
Unjustly
is
achieved
.
’Tis
a
good
title
.
I
am
persuaded
this
question
,
sick
between
’s
,
By
bleeding
must
be
cured
.
I
am
a
suitor
That
to
your
sword
you
will
bequeath
this
plea
,
And
talk
of
it
no
more
.
But
this
one
word
:
You
are
going
now
to
gaze
upon
my
mistress
,
For
note
you
,
mine
she
is
—
Nay
then
,
—
Nay
,
pray
you
,
You
talk
of
feeding
me
to
breed
me
strength
.
You
are
going
now
to
look
upon
a
sun
That
strengthens
what
it
looks
on
;
there
You
have
a
vantage
o’er
me
,
but
enjoy
’t
till
I
may
enforce
my
remedy
.
Farewell
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Jailer’s
Daughter
,
alone
.
He
has
mistook
the
brake
I
meant
,
is
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
ACT 3. SC. 2
He
had
this
file
.
What
if
I
hallowed
for
him
?
I
cannot
hallow
.
If
I
whooped
,
what
then
?
If
he
not
answered
,
I
should
call
a
wolf
,
And
do
him
but
that
service
.
I
have
heard
Strange
howls
this
livelong
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
unarmed
and
can
Smell
where
resistance
is
.
I’ll
set
it
down
He’s
torn
to
pieces
;
they
howled
many
together
,
And
then
they
fed
on
him
;
so
much
for
that
.
Be
bold
to
ring
the
bell
.
How
stand
I
then
?
All’s
chared
when
he
is
gone
.
No
,
no
,
I
lie
.
My
father’s
to
be
hanged
for
his
escape
;
Myself
to
beg
,
if
I
prized
life
so
much
As
to
deny
my
act
,
but
that
I
would
not
,
Should
I
try
death
by
dozens
.
I
am
moped
;
Food
took
I
none
these
two
days
;
Sipped
some
water
.
I
have
not
closed
mine
eyes
Save
when
my
lids
scoured
off
their
brine
.
Alas
,
Dissolve
,
my
life
!
Let
not
my
sense
unsettle
,
Lest
I
should
drown
,
or
stab
,
or
hang
myself
.
O
state
of
nature
,
fail
together
in
me
,
Since
thy
best
props
are
warped
!
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
.
She
exits
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
Arcite
with
meat
,
wine
,
and
files
.
I
should
be
near
the
place
.
—
Ho
!
Cousin
Palamon
!
,
within
Arcite
?
The
same
.
I
have
brought
you
food
and
files
.
Come
forth
and
fear
not
;
here’s
no
Theseus
.
Enter
Palamon
.
Nor
none
so
honest
,
Arcite
.
That’s
no
matter
.
We’ll
argue
that
hereafter
.
Come
,
take
courage
;
You
shall
not
die
thus
beastly
.
Here
,
sir
,
drink
—
I
know
you
are
faint
—
then
I’ll
talk
further
with
you
.
Arcite
,
thou
mightst
now
poison
me
.
I
might
;
But
I
must
fear
you
first
.
Sit
down
and
,
good
now
,
No
more
of
these
vain
parleys
.
Let
us
not
,
Having
our
ancient
reputation
with
us
,
Make
talk
for
fools
and
cowards
.
To
your
health
.
He
drinks
.
Do
!
Pray
sit
down
,
then
,
and
let
me
entreat
you
,
By
all
the
honesty
and
honor
in
you
,
No
mention
of
this
woman
;
’twill
disturb
us
.
We
shall
have
time
enough
.
Well
,
sir
,
I’ll
pledge
you
.
He
drinks
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Drink
a
good
hearty
draught
;
it
breeds
good
blood
,
man
.
Do
not
you
feel
it
thaw
you
?
Stay
,
I’ll
tell
you
After
a
draught
or
two
more
.
Spare
it
not
.
The
Duke
has
more
,
coz
.
Eat
now
.
Yes
.
He
eats
.
I
am
glad
You
have
so
good
a
stomach
.
I
am
gladder
I
have
so
good
meat
to
’t
.
Is
’t
not
mad
lodging
Here
in
the
wild
woods
,
cousin
?
Yes
,
for
them
That
have
wild
consciences
.
How
tastes
your
victuals
?
Your
hunger
needs
no
sauce
,
I
see
.
Not
much
.
But
if
it
did
,
yours
is
too
tart
,
sweet
cousin
.
What
is
this
?
Venison
.
’Tis
a
lusty
meat
.
Give
me
more
wine
.
Here
,
Arcite
,
to
the
wenches
We
have
known
in
our
days
!
He
raises
his
cup
in
a
toast
.
The
Lord
Steward’s
daughter
!
Do
you
remember
her
?
After
you
,
coz
.
She
loved
a
black-haired
man
.
She
did
so
;
well
,
sir
?
ACT 3. SC. 3
And
I
have
heard
some
call
him
Arcite
,
and
—
Out
with
’t
,
faith
.
She
met
him
in
an
arbor
.
What
did
she
there
,
coz
?
Play
o’
th’
virginals
?
Something
she
did
,
sir
.
Made
her
groan
a
month
for
’t
—
Or
two
,
or
three
,
or
ten
.
The
Marshal’s
sister
Had
her
share
,
too
,
as
I
remember
,
cousin
,
Else
there
be
tales
abroad
.
You’ll
pledge
her
?
Yes
.
He
lifts
his
cup
and
then
drinks
.
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
!
For
Emily
,
upon
my
life
!
Fool
,
Away
with
this
strained
mirth
.
I
say
again
That
sigh
was
breathed
for
Emily
.
Base
cousin
,
Dar’st
thou
break
first
?
You
are
wide
.
By
heaven
and
Earth
earth
,
There’s
nothing
in
thee
honest
.
Then
I’ll
leave
you
.
You
are
a
beast
now
.
As
thou
mak’st
me
,
traitor
.
There’s
all
things
needful
:
files
and
shirts
and
perfumes
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
I’ll
come
again
some
two
hours
hence
and
bring
That
that
shall
quiet
all
.
A
sword
and
armor
.
Fear
me
not
.
You
are
now
too
foul
.
Farewell
.
Get
off
your
trinkets
;
you
shall
want
naught
.
Sirrah
—
I’ll
hear
no
more
.
He
exits
.
If
he
keep
touch
,
he
dies
for
’t
.
He
exits
.
Scene
4
Enter
Jailer’s
Daughter
.
I
am
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
heaven
.
Where
am
I
now
?
Yonder’s
the
sea
,
and
there’s
a
ship
.
How
’t
tumbles
!
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
!
Open
her
before
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
am
very
hungry
.
Would
I
could
find
a
fine
frog
;
he
would
tell
me
News
from
all
parts
o’
th’
world
;
then
would
I
make
A
carrack
of
a
cockleshell
,
and
sail
By
east
and
northeast
to
the
king
of
pygmies
,
For
he
tells
fortunes
rarely
.
Now
my
father
,
ACT 3. SC. 5
Twenty
to
one
,
is
trussed
up
in
a
trice
Tomorrow
morning
.
I’ll
say
never
a
word
.
(
Sing
.
)
For
I’ll
cut
my
green
coat
a
foot
above
my
knee
,
And
I’ll
clip
my
yellow
locks
an
inch
below
mine
eye
.
Hey
nonny
,
nonny
,
nonny
.
He’s
buy
me
a
white
cut
,
forth
for
to
ride
,
And
I’ll
go
seek
him
through
the
world
that
is
so
wide
.
Hey
nonny
,
nonny
,
nonny
.
O
,
for
a
prick
now
,
like
a
nightingale
,
To
put
my
breast
against
.
I
shall
sleep
like
a
top
else
.
She
exits
.
Scene
5
Enter
a
Schoolmaster
and
six
Countrymen
,
one
dressed
as
a
Bavian
.
Fie
,
fie
,
what
tediosity
and
disinsanity
is
here
among
you
!
Have
my
rudiments
been
labored
so
long
with
you
,
milked
unto
you
,
and
,
by
a
figure
,
even
the
very
plum
broth
and
marrow
of
my
understanding
laid
upon
you
,
and
do
you
still
cry
Where
?
and
How
?
and
Wherefore
?
You
most
coarse-frieze
capacities
,
you
jean
judgments
,
have
I
said
Thus
let
be
and
There
let
be
and
Then
let
be
and
no
man
understand
me
?
Proh
deum
,
medius
fidius
,
you
are
all
dunces
!
Forwhy
,
here
stand
I
;
here
the
Duke
comes
;
there
are
you
,
close
in
the
thicket
;
the
Duke
appears
;
I
meet
him
and
unto
him
I
utter
learnèd
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
ACT 3. SC. 5
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
.
And
sweetly
we
will
do
it
,
Master
Gerald
.
Draw
up
the
company
.
Where’s
the
taborer
?
Why
,
Timothy
!
Enter
the
Taborer
.
Here
,
my
mad
boys
.
Have
at
you
!
But
I
say
,
where’s
their
women
?
Enter
five
Wenches
.
Here’s
Fritz
and
Maudlin
.
And
little
Luce
with
the
white
legs
,
and
bouncing
Barbary
.
And
freckled
Nell
,
that
never
failed
her
master
.
Where
be
your
ribbons
,
maids
?
Swim
with
your
bodies
,
and
carry
it
sweetly
and
deliverly
,
and
now
and
then
a
favor
and
a
frisk
.
Let
us
alone
,
sir
.
Where’s
the
rest
o’
th’
music
?
Dispersed
,
as
you
commanded
.
Couple
,
then
,
and
see
what’s
wanting
.
Where’s
the
Bavian
?
—
My
friend
,
carry
your
tail
without
offense
or
scandal
to
the
ladies
;
and
be
sure
you
tumble
with
audacity
and
manhood
,
and
when
you
bark
,
do
it
with
judgment
.
Yes
,
sir
.
Quo
usque
tandem
?
Here
is
a
woman
wanting
.
We
may
go
whistle
;
all
the
fat’s
i’
th’
fire
.
We
have
,
as
learnèd
authors
utter
,
ACT 3. SC. 5
washed
a
tile
;
we
have
been
fatuus
and
labored
vainly
.
This
is
that
scornful
piece
,
that
scurvy
hilding
that
gave
her
promise
faithfully
she
would
be
here
—
Cicely
,
the
sempster’s
daughter
.
The
next
gloves
that
I
give
her
shall
be
dogskin
;
nay
,
an
she
fail
me
once
—
you
can
tell
,
Arcas
,
she
swore
by
wine
and
bread
she
would
not
break
.
An
eel
and
woman
,
a
learnèd
poet
says
,
unless
by
th’
tail
and
with
thy
teeth
thou
hold
,
will
either
fail
.
In
manners
,
this
was
false
position
.
A
fire
ill
take
her
!
Does
she
flinch
now
?
What
shall
we
determine
,
sir
?
Nothing
.
Our
business
is
become
a
nullity
,
yea
,
and
a
woeful
and
a
piteous
nullity
.
Now
,
when
the
credit
of
our
town
lay
on
it
,
now
to
be
frampold
,
now
to
piss
o’
th’
nettle
!
Go
thy
ways
;
I’ll
remember
thee
.
I’ll
fit
thee
!
Enter
Jailer’s
Daughter
.
,
sings
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
hailed
,
well
hailed
,
you
jolly
gallants
,
And
whither
now
are
you
bound-a
?
O
,
let
me
have
your
company
Till
I
come
to
the
sound-a
.
There
was
three
fools
,
fell
out
about
an
owlet
—
Sings
The
one
he
said
it
was
an
owl
,
The
other
he
said
nay
,
ACT 3. SC. 5
The
third
he
said
it
was
a
hawk
,
And
her
bells
were
cut
away
.
There’s
a
dainty
madwoman
,
master
,
comes
i’
th’
nick
,
as
mad
as
a
March
hare
.
If
we
can
get
her
dance
,
we
are
made
again
.
I
warrant
her
,
she’ll
do
the
rarest
gambols
.
A
madwoman
?
We
are
made
,
boys
.
,
to
Jailer’s
Daughter
And
are
you
mad
,
good
woman
?
I
would
be
sorry
else
.
Give
me
your
hand
.
Why
?
I
can
tell
your
fortune
.
She
looks
at
his
hand
.
You
are
a
fool
.
Tell
ten
.
—
I
have
posed
him
.
Buzz
!
—
Friend
,
you
must
eat
no
white
bread
;
if
you
do
,
your
teeth
will
bleed
extremely
.
Shall
we
dance
,
ho
?
I
know
you
,
you’re
a
tinker
.
Sirrah
tinker
,
stop
no
more
holes
but
what
you
should
.
Dii
boni
!
A
tinker
,
damsel
?
Or
a
conjurer
.
Raise
me
a
devil
now
,
and
let
him
play
Chi
passa
o’
th’
bells
and
bones
.
Go
,
take
her
,
and
fluently
persuade
her
to
a
peace
.
Et
opus
exegi
,
quod
nec
Iovis
ira
,
nec
ignis
.
Strike
up
,
and
lead
her
in
.
Come
,
lass
,
let’s
trip
it
.
I’ll
lead
.
Do
,
do
!
Persuasively
,
and
cunningly
.
Wind
horns
.
Away
,
boys
!
I
hear
the
horns
.
Give
me
some
meditation
,
and
mark
your
cue
.
All
but
Schoolmaster
exit
.
Pallas
,
inspire
me
!
Enter
Theseus
,
Pirithous
,
Hippolyta
,
Emilia
,
and
train
.
This
way
the
stag
took
.
Stay
,
and
edify
!
ACT 3. SC. 5
What
have
we
here
?
Some
country
sport
,
upon
my
life
,
sir
.
,
to
Schoolmaster
Well
,
sir
,
go
forward
.
We
will
edify
.
Chairs
and
stools
brought
out
.
Ladies
,
sit
down
.
We’ll
stay
it
.
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
and
Emilia
sit
.
Thou
doughty
duke
,
all
hail
!
—
All
hail
,
sweet
ladies
!
,
aside
This
is
a
cold
beginning
.
If
you
but
favor
,
our
country
pastime
made
is
.
We
are
a
few
of
those
collected
here
That
ruder
tongues
distinguish
villager
.
And
to
say
verity
,
and
not
to
fable
,
We
are
a
merry
rout
,
or
else
a
rabble
,
Or
company
,
or
by
a
figure
,
chorus
,
That
’fore
thy
dignity
will
dance
a
morris
.
And
I
that
am
the
rectifier
of
all
,
By
title
pedagogus
,
that
let
fall
The
birch
upon
the
breeches
of
the
small
ones
,
And
humble
with
a
ferula
the
tall
ones
,
Do
here
present
this
machine
,
or
this
frame
.
And
,
dainty
duke
,
whose
doughty
dismal
fame
From
Dis
to
Daedalus
,
from
post
to
pillar
,
Is
blown
abroad
,
help
me
,
thy
poor
well-willer
,
And
with
thy
twinkling
eyes
look
right
and
straight
Upon
this
mighty
Morr
,
of
mickle
weight
—
Is
now
comes
in
,
which
being
glued
together
Makes
Morris
,
and
the
cause
that
we
came
hither
.
The
body
of
our
sport
,
of
no
small
study
,
I
first
appear
,
though
rude
,
and
raw
,
and
muddy
,
To
speak
before
thy
noble
grace
this
tenner
,
At
whose
great
feet
I
offer
up
my
penner
.
The
next
,
the
Lord
of
May
and
Lady
bright
,
The
Chambermaid
and
Servingman
by
night
That
seek
out
silent
hanging
;
then
mine
Host
ACT 3. SC. 5
And
his
fat
Spouse
,
that
welcomes
to
their
cost
The
gallèd
traveler
,
and
with
a
beck’ning
Informs
the
tapster
to
inflame
the
reck’ning
;
Then
the
beest-eating
Clown
;
and
next
the
Fool
,
The
Bavian
with
long
tail
and
eke
long
tool
,
Cum
multis
aliis
that
make
a
dance
;
Say
ay
,
and
all
shall
presently
advance
.
Ay
,
ay
,
by
any
means
,
dear
Domine
.
Produce
!
Intrate
,
filii
.
Come
forth
and
foot
it
.
Music
.
Enter
the
Countrymen
,
Countrywomen
,
and
Jailer’s
Daughter
;
they
perform
a
morris
dance
.
Ladies
,
if
we
have
been
merry
And
have
pleased
ye
with
a
derry
,
And
a
derry
and
a
down
,
Say
the
Schoolmaster’s
no
clown
.
—
Duke
,
if
we
have
pleased
thee
too
And
have
done
as
good
boys
should
do
,
Give
us
but
a
tree
or
twain
For
a
Maypole
,
and
again
,
Ere
another
year
run
out
,
We’ll
make
thee
laugh
,
and
all
this
rout
.
Take
twenty
,
Domine
.
—
How
does
my
sweetheart
?
Never
so
pleased
,
sir
.
’Twas
an
excellent
dance
,
And
,
for
a
preface
,
I
never
heard
a
better
.
Schoolmaster
,
I
thank
you
.
—
One
see
’em
all
rewarded
.
An
Attendant
gives
money
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
And
here’s
something
to
paint
your
pole
withal
.
He
gives
money
.
Now
to
our
sports
again
.
May
the
stag
thou
hunt’st
stand
long
,
And
thy
dogs
be
swift
and
strong
;
May
they
kill
him
without
lets
,
And
the
ladies
eat
his
dowsets
.
Wind
horns
within
.
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
Emilia
,
Pirithous
,
and
Train
exit
.
Come
,
we
are
all
made
.
Dii
deaeque
omnes
,
You
have
danced
rarely
,
wenches
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Enter
Palamon
from
the
bush
.
About
this
hour
my
cousin
gave
his
faith
To
visit
me
again
,
and
with
him
bring
Two
swords
and
two
good
armors
.
If
he
fail
,
He’s
neither
man
nor
soldier
.
When
he
left
me
,
I
did
not
think
a
week
could
have
restored
My
lost
strength
to
me
,
I
was
grown
so
low
And
crestfall’n
with
my
wants
.
I
thank
thee
,
Arcite
,
Thou
art
yet
a
fair
foe
,
and
I
feel
myself
,
With
this
refreshing
,
able
once
again
To
outdure
danger
.
To
delay
it
longer
Would
make
the
world
think
,
when
it
comes
to
hearing
,
That
I
lay
fatting
like
a
swine
to
fight
And
not
a
soldier
.
Therefore
,
this
blest
morning
Shall
be
the
last
;
and
that
sword
he
refuses
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
If
it
but
hold
,
I
kill
him
with
.
’Tis
justice
.
So
,
love
and
fortune
for
me
!
Enter
Arcite
with
armors
and
swords
.
O
,
good
morrow
.
Good
morrow
,
noble
kinsman
.
I
have
put
you
To
too
much
pains
,
sir
.
That
too
much
,
fair
cousin
,
Is
but
a
debt
to
honor
and
my
duty
.
Would
you
were
so
in
all
,
sir
;
I
could
wish
you
As
kind
a
kinsman
as
you
force
me
find
A
beneficial
foe
,
that
my
embraces
Might
thank
you
,
not
my
blows
.
I
shall
think
either
,
Well
done
,
a
noble
recompense
.
Then
I
shall
quit
you
.
Defy
me
in
these
fair
terms
,
and
you
show
More
than
a
mistress
to
me
.
No
more
anger
,
As
you
love
anything
that’s
honorable
!
We
were
not
bred
to
talk
,
man
;
when
we
are
armed
And
both
upon
our
guards
,
then
let
our
fury
,
Like
meeting
of
two
tides
,
fly
strongly
from
us
,
And
then
to
whom
the
birthright
of
this
beauty
Truly
pertains
—
without
upbraidings
,
scorns
,
Despisings
of
our
persons
,
and
such
poutings
,
Fitter
for
girls
and
schoolboys
—
will
be
seen
,
And
quickly
,
yours
or
mine
.
Will
’t
please
you
arm
,
sir
?
Or
if
you
feel
yourself
not
fitting
yet
And
furnished
with
your
old
strength
,
I’ll
stay
,
cousin
,
And
ev’ry
day
discourse
you
into
health
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
As
I
am
spared
.
Your
person
I
am
friends
with
,
And
I
could
wish
I
had
not
said
I
loved
her
,
Though
I
had
died
.
But
loving
such
a
lady
,
And
justifying
my
love
,
I
must
not
fly
from
’t
.
Arcite
,
thou
art
so
brave
an
enemy
That
no
man
but
thy
cousin’s
fit
to
kill
thee
.
I
am
well
and
lusty
.
Choose
your
arms
.
Choose
you
,
sir
.
Wilt
thou
exceed
in
all
,
or
dost
thou
do
it
To
make
me
spare
thee
?
If
you
think
so
,
cousin
,
You
are
deceived
,
for
as
I
am
a
soldier
,
I
will
not
spare
you
.
That’s
well
said
.
You’ll
find
it
.
Then
,
as
I
am
an
honest
man
and
love
With
all
the
justice
of
affection
,
I’ll
pay
thee
soundly
.
He
chooses
armor
.
This
I’ll
take
.
taking
the
other
That’s
mine
,
then
.
I’ll
arm
you
first
.
Do
.
Arcite
begins
arming
him
.
Pray
thee
tell
me
,
cousin
,
Where
got’st
thou
this
good
armor
?
’Tis
the
Duke’s
,
And
to
say
true
,
I
stole
it
.
Do
I
pinch
you
?
No
.
Is
’t
not
too
heavy
?
I
have
worn
a
lighter
,
But
I
shall
make
it
serve
.
I’ll
buckle
’t
close
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
By
any
means
.
You
care
not
for
a
grand
guard
?
No
,
no
,
we’ll
use
no
horses
.
I
perceive
You
would
fain
be
at
that
fight
.
I
am
indifferent
.
Faith
,
so
am
I
.
Good
cousin
,
thrust
the
buckle
Through
far
enough
.
I
warrant
you
.
My
casque
now
.
Will
you
fight
bare-armed
?
We
shall
be
the
nimbler
.
But
use
your
gauntlets
though
.
Those
are
o’
th’
least
.
Prithee
take
mine
,
good
cousin
.
Thank
you
,
Arcite
.
How
do
I
look
?
Am
I
fall’n
much
away
?
Faith
,
very
little
;
love
has
used
you
kindly
.
I’ll
warrant
thee
,
I’ll
strike
home
.
Do
,
and
spare
not
.
I’ll
give
you
cause
,
sweet
cousin
.
Now
to
you
,
sir
.
He
begins
to
arm
Arcite
.
Methinks
this
armor’s
very
like
that
,
Arcite
,
Thou
wor’st
that
day
the
three
kings
fell
,
but
lighter
.
That
was
a
very
good
one
,
and
that
day
,
I
well
remember
,
you
outdid
me
,
cousin
.
I
never
saw
such
valor
.
When
you
charged
Upon
the
left
wing
of
the
enemy
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
I
spurred
hard
to
come
up
,
and
under
me
I
had
a
right
good
horse
.
You
had
,
indeed
;
A
bright
bay
,
I
remember
.
Yes
,
but
all
Was
vainly
labored
in
me
;
you
outwent
me
,
Nor
could
my
wishes
reach
you
;
yet
a
little
I
did
by
imitation
.
More
by
virtue
;
You
are
modest
,
cousin
.
When
I
saw
you
charge
first
,
Methought
I
heard
a
dreadful
clap
of
thunder
Break
from
the
troop
.
But
still
before
that
flew
The
lightning
of
your
valor
.
Stay
a
little
;
Is
not
this
piece
too
strait
?
No
,
no
,
’tis
well
.
I
would
have
nothing
hurt
thee
but
my
sword
.
A
bruise
would
be
dishonor
.
Now
I
am
perfect
.
Stand
off
,
then
.
Take
my
sword
;
I
hold
it
better
.
I
thank
you
,
no
;
keep
it
;
your
life
lies
on
it
.
Here’s
one
;
if
it
but
hold
,
I
ask
no
more
For
all
my
hopes
.
My
cause
and
honor
guard
me
!
And
me
my
love
!
They
bow
several
ways
,
then
advance
and
stand
.
Is
there
aught
else
to
say
?
This
only
,
and
no
more
:
thou
art
mine
aunt’s
son
.
And
that
blood
we
desire
to
shed
is
mutual
—
In
me
thine
,
and
in
thee
mine
.
My
sword
ACT 3. SC. 6
Is
in
my
hand
,
and
if
thou
kill’st
me
,
The
gods
and
I
forgive
thee
.
If
there
be
A
place
prepared
for
those
that
sleep
in
honor
,
I
wish
his
weary
soul
that
falls
may
win
it
.
Fight
bravely
,
cousin
.
Give
me
thy
noble
hand
.
,
as
they
shake
hands
Here
,
Palamon
.
This
hand
shall
never
more
Come
near
thee
with
such
friendship
.
I
commend
thee
.
If
I
fall
,
curse
me
,
and
say
I
was
a
coward
,
For
none
but
such
dare
die
in
these
just
trials
.
Once
more
farewell
,
my
cousin
.
Farewell
,
Arcite
.
Fight
.
Horns
within
.
They
stand
.
Lo
,
cousin
,
lo
,
our
folly
has
undone
us
!
Why
?
This
is
the
Duke
,
a-hunting
,
as
I
told
you
.
If
we
be
found
,
we
are
wretched
.
O
,
retire
,
For
honor’s
sake
,
and
safely
,
presently
Into
your
bush
again
.
Sir
,
we
shall
find
Too
many
hours
to
die
in
.
Gentle
cousin
,
If
you
be
seen
,
you
perish
instantly
For
breaking
prison
,
and
I
,
if
you
reveal
me
,
For
my
contempt
.
Then
all
the
world
will
scorn
us
,
And
say
we
had
a
noble
difference
,
But
base
disposers
of
it
.
No
,
no
,
cousin
,
I
will
no
more
be
hidden
,
nor
put
off
This
great
adventure
to
a
second
trial
.
I
know
your
cunning
,
and
I
know
your
cause
.
He
that
faints
now
,
shame
take
him
!
Put
thyself
Upon
thy
present
guard
—
ACT 3. SC. 6
You
are
not
mad
?
Or
I
will
make
th’
advantage
of
this
hour
Mine
own
,
and
what
to
come
shall
threaten
me
I
fear
less
than
my
fortune
.
Know
,
weak
cousin
,
I
love
Emilia
,
and
in
that
I’ll
bury
Thee
and
all
crosses
else
.
Then
come
what
can
come
,
Thou
shalt
know
,
Palamon
,
I
dare
as
well
Die
as
discourse
or
sleep
.
Only
this
fears
me
:
The
law
will
have
the
honor
of
our
ends
.
Have
at
thy
life
!
Look
to
thine
own
well
,
Arcite
.
Fight
again
.
Horns
.
Enter
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
Emilia
,
Pirithous
and
train
.
What
ignorant
and
mad
malicious
traitors
Are
you
,
that
’gainst
the
tenor
of
my
laws
Are
making
battle
,
thus
like
knights
appointed
,
Without
my
leave
and
officers
of
arms
?
By
Castor
,
both
shall
die
.
Hold
thy
word
,
Theseus
.
We
are
certainly
both
traitors
,
both
despisers
Of
thee
and
of
thy
goodness
.
I
am
Palamon
,
That
cannot
love
thee
,
he
that
broke
thy
prison
.
Think
well
what
that
deserves
.
And
this
is
Arcite
.
A
bolder
traitor
never
trod
thy
ground
,
A
falser
ne’er
seemed
friend
.
This
is
the
man
Was
begged
and
banished
;
this
is
he
contemns
thee
And
what
thou
dar’st
do
;
and
in
this
disguise
,
Against
thine
own
edict
,
follows
thy
sister
,
That
fortunate
bright
star
,
the
fair
Emilia
,
Whose
servant
—
if
there
be
a
right
in
seeing
And
first
bequeathing
of
the
soul
to
—
justly
ACT 3. SC. 6
I
am
;
and
,
which
is
more
,
dares
think
her
his
.
This
treachery
,
like
a
most
trusty
lover
,
I
called
him
now
to
answer
.
If
thou
be’st
As
thou
art
spoken
,
great
and
virtuous
,
The
true
decider
of
all
injuries
,
Say
Fight
again
,
and
thou
shalt
see
me
,
Theseus
,
Do
such
a
justice
thou
thyself
wilt
envy
.
Then
take
my
life
;
I’ll
woo
thee
to
’t
.
O
heaven
,
What
more
than
man
is
this
!
I
have
sworn
.
We
seek
not
Thy
breath
of
mercy
,
Theseus
.
’Tis
to
me
A
thing
as
soon
to
die
as
thee
to
say
it
,
And
no
more
moved
.
Where
this
man
calls
me
traitor
,
Let
me
say
thus
much
:
if
in
love
be
treason
,
In
service
of
so
excellent
a
beauty
,
As
I
love
most
,
and
in
that
faith
will
perish
,
As
I
have
brought
my
life
here
to
confirm
it
,
As
I
have
served
her
truest
,
worthiest
,
As
I
dare
kill
this
cousin
that
denies
it
,
So
let
me
be
most
traitor
,
and
you
please
me
.
For
scorning
thy
edict
,
duke
,
ask
that
lady
Why
she
is
fair
,
and
why
her
eyes
command
me
Stay
here
to
love
her
;
and
if
she
say
traitor
,
I
am
a
villain
fit
to
lie
unburied
.
Thou
shalt
have
pity
of
us
both
,
O
Theseus
,
If
unto
neither
thou
show
mercy
.
Stop
,
As
thou
art
just
,
thy
noble
ear
against
us
;
As
thou
art
valiant
,
for
thy
cousin’s
soul
,
Whose
twelve
strong
labors
crown
his
memory
,
Let’s
die
together
at
one
instant
,
duke
;
Only
a
little
let
him
fall
before
me
,
That
I
may
tell
my
soul
he
shall
not
have
her
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
I
grant
your
wish
,
for
to
say
true
,
your
cousin
Has
ten
times
more
offended
,
for
I
gave
him
More
mercy
than
you
found
,
sir
,
your
offenses
Being
no
more
than
his
.
—
None
here
speak
for
’em
,
For
ere
the
sun
set
both
shall
sleep
forever
.
Alas
,
the
pity
!
Now
or
never
,
sister
,
Speak
not
to
be
denied
.
That
face
of
yours
Will
bear
the
curses
else
of
after
ages
For
these
lost
cousins
.
In
my
face
,
dear
sister
,
I
find
no
anger
to
’em
,
nor
no
ruin
.
The
misadventure
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
.
She
kneels
.
Help
me
,
dear
sister
;
in
a
deed
so
virtuous
,
The
powers
of
all
women
will
be
with
us
.
Hippolyta
kneels
.
Most
royal
brother
—
Sir
,
by
our
tie
of
marriage
—
By
your
own
spotless
honor
—
By
that
faith
,
That
fair
hand
,
and
that
honest
heart
you
gave
me
—
By
that
you
would
have
pity
in
another
;
By
your
own
virtues
infinite
—
By
valor
;
By
all
the
chaste
nights
I
have
ever
pleased
you
—
These
are
strange
conjurings
.
Nay
,
then
,
I’ll
in
too
.
He
kneels
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
By
all
our
friendship
,
sir
,
by
all
our
dangers
;
By
all
you
love
most
,
wars
and
this
sweet
lady
—
By
that
you
would
have
trembled
to
deny
A
blushing
maid
—
By
your
own
eyes
;
by
strength
,
In
which
you
swore
I
went
beyond
all
women
,
Almost
all
men
,
and
yet
I
yielded
,
Theseus
—
To
crown
all
this
:
by
your
most
noble
soul
,
Which
cannot
want
due
mercy
,
I
beg
first
—
Next
hear
my
prayers
—
Last
let
me
entreat
,
sir
—
For
mercy
.
Mercy
.
Mercy
on
these
princes
.
You
make
my
faith
reel
.
(
To
Emilia
.
)
Say
I
felt
Compassion
to
’em
both
,
how
would
you
place
it
?
They
rise
from
their
knees
.
Upon
their
lives
,
but
with
their
banishments
.
You
are
a
right
woman
,
sister
:
you
have
pity
,
But
want
the
understanding
where
to
use
it
.
If
you
desire
their
lives
,
invent
a
way
Safer
than
banishment
.
Can
these
two
live
,
And
have
the
agony
of
love
about
’em
,
And
not
kill
one
another
?
Every
day
They’d
fight
about
you
,
hourly
bring
your
honor
In
public
question
with
their
swords
.
Be
wise
,
then
,
And
here
forget
’em
;
it
concerns
your
credit
And
my
oath
equally
.
I
have
said
they
die
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
Better
they
fall
by
th’
law
than
one
another
.
Bow
not
my
honor
.
O
,
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
.
Besides
,
I
have
another
oath
’gainst
yours
,
Of
more
authority
,
I
am
sure
more
love
,
Not
made
in
passion
neither
,
but
good
heed
.
What
is
it
,
sister
?
Urge
it
home
,
brave
lady
.
That
you
would
ne’er
deny
me
anything
Fit
for
my
modest
suit
and
your
free
granting
.
I
tie
you
to
your
word
now
;
if
you
fail
in
’t
,
Think
how
you
maim
your
honor
—
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
anything
that
loves
me
perish
for
me
?
That
were
a
cruel
wisdom
.
Do
men
prune
The
straight
young
boughs
that
blush
with
thousand
blossoms
Because
they
may
be
rotten
?
O
,
Duke
Theseus
,
The
goodly
mothers
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
cousins
Despise
my
cruelty
,
and
cry
woe
worth
me
,
Till
I
am
nothing
but
the
scorn
of
women
.
For
heaven’s
sake
,
save
their
lives
,
and
banish
’em
.
On
what
conditions
?
Swear
’em
never
more
To
make
me
their
contention
,
or
to
know
me
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
To
tread
upon
thy
dukedom
,
and
to
be
,
Wherever
they
shall
travel
,
ever
strangers
To
one
another
.
I’ll
be
cut
a-pieces
Before
I
take
this
oath
!
Forget
I
love
her
?
O
,
all
you
gods
,
despise
me
then
!
Thy
banishment
I
not
mislike
,
so
we
may
fairly
carry
Our
swords
and
cause
along
;
else
never
trifle
,
But
take
our
lives
,
duke
.
I
must
love
,
and
will
,
And
for
that
love
must
and
dare
kill
this
cousin
On
any
piece
the
Earth
earth
has
.
Will
you
,
Arcite
,
Take
these
conditions
?
He’s
a
villain
,
then
.
These
are
men
!
No
,
never
,
duke
.
’Tis
worse
to
me
than
begging
To
take
my
life
so
basely
;
though
I
think
I
never
shall
enjoy
her
,
yet
I’ll
preserve
The
honor
of
affection
,
and
die
for
her
,
Make
death
a
devil
!
What
may
be
done
?
For
now
I
feel
compassion
.
Let
it
not
fall
again
,
sir
.
Say
,
Emilia
,
If
one
of
them
were
dead
,
as
one
must
,
are
you
Content
to
take
th’
other
to
your
husband
?
They
cannot
both
enjoy
you
.
They
are
princes
As
goodly
as
your
own
eyes
,
and
as
noble
As
ever
fame
yet
spoke
of
.
Look
upon
’em
,
And
,
if
you
can
love
,
end
this
difference
.
I
give
consent
.
—
Are
you
content
too
,
princes
?
With
all
our
souls
.
He
that
she
refuses
Must
die
then
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
Any
death
thou
canst
invent
,
duke
.
If
I
fall
from
that
mouth
,
I
fall
with
favor
,
And
lovers
yet
unborn
shall
bless
my
ashes
.
If
she
refuse
me
,
yet
my
grave
will
wed
me
,
And
soldiers
sing
my
epitaph
.
,
to
Emilia
Make
choice
,
then
.
I
cannot
,
sir
;
they
are
both
too
excellent
.
For
me
,
a
hair
shall
never
fall
of
these
men
.
What
will
become
of
’em
?
Thus
I
ordain
it
—
And
,
by
mine
honor
,
once
again
,
it
stands
,
Or
both
shall
die
:
you
shall
both
to
your
country
,
And
each
within
this
month
,
accompanied
With
three
fair
knights
,
appear
again
in
this
place
,
In
which
I’ll
plant
a
pyramid
;
and
whether
,
Before
us
that
are
here
,
can
force
his
cousin
By
fair
and
knightly
strength
to
touch
the
pillar
,
He
shall
enjoy
her
;
the
other
lose
his
head
,
And
all
his
friends
;
nor
shall
he
grudge
to
fall
,
Nor
think
he
dies
with
interest
in
this
lady
.
Will
this
content
you
?
Yes
.
—
Here
,
Cousin
Arcite
,
I
am
friends
again
till
that
hour
.
He
offers
his
hand
.
I
embrace
you
.
They
shake
hands
.
Are
you
content
,
sister
?
Yes
,
I
must
,
sir
,
Else
both
miscarry
.
,
to
Palamon
and
Arcite
Come
,
shake
hands
again
,
then
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
And
take
heed
,
as
you
are
gentlemen
,
this
quarrel
Sleep
till
the
hour
prefixed
,
and
hold
your
course
.
We
dare
not
fail
thee
,
Theseus
.
They
shake
hands
again
.
Come
,
I’ll
give
you
Now
usage
like
to
princes
and
to
friends
.
When
you
return
,
who
wins
I’ll
settle
here
;
Who
loses
,
yet
I’ll
weep
upon
his
bier
.
They
exit
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Enter
Jailer
and
his
Friend
.
Heard
you
no
more
?
Was
nothing
said
of
me
Concerning
the
escape
of
Palamon
?
Good
sir
,
remember
!
Nothing
that
I
heard
,
For
I
came
home
before
the
business
Was
fully
ended
.
Yet
I
might
perceive
,
Ere
I
departed
,
a
great
likelihood
Of
both
their
pardons
;
for
Hippolyta
And
fair-eyed
Emily
,
upon
their
knees
,
Begged
with
such
handsome
pity
that
the
Duke
,
Methought
,
stood
staggering
whether
he
should
follow
His
rash
oath
or
the
sweet
compassion
Of
those
two
ladies
.
And
,
to
second
them
,
That
truly
noble
prince
,
Pirithous
—
Half
his
own
heart
—
set
in
too
,
that
I
hope
All
shall
be
well
.
Neither
heard
I
one
question
Of
your
name
or
his
’scape
.
Pray
heaven
it
hold
so
.
Enter
Second
Friend
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Be
of
good
comfort
,
man
;
I
bring
you
news
,
Good
news
.
They
are
welcome
.
Palamon
has
cleared
you
And
got
your
pardon
,
and
discovered
how
And
by
whose
means
he
escaped
,
which
was
your
daughter’s
,
Whose
pardon
is
procured
too
;
and
the
prisoner
,
Not
to
be
held
ungrateful
to
her
goodness
,
Has
given
a
sum
of
money
to
her
marriage
—
A
large
one
,
I’ll
assure
you
.
You
are
a
good
man
And
ever
bring
good
news
.
How
was
it
ended
?
Why
,
as
it
should
be
:
they
that
ne’er
begged
But
they
prevailed
had
their
suits
fairly
granted
;
The
prisoners
have
their
lives
.
I
knew
’twould
be
so
.
But
there
be
new
conditions
,
which
you’ll
hear
of
At
better
time
.
I
hope
they
are
good
.
They
are
honorable
;
How
good
they’ll
prove
I
know
not
.
’Twill
be
known
.
Enter
Wooer
.
Alas
,
sir
,
where’s
your
daughter
?
Why
do
you
ask
?
O
,
sir
,
when
did
you
see
her
?
ACT 4. SC. 1
,
aside
How
he
looks
!
This
morning
.
Was
she
well
?
Was
she
in
health
?
Sir
,
when
did
she
sleep
?
,
aside
These
are
strange
questions
.
I
do
not
think
she
was
very
well
—
for
now
You
make
me
mind
her
;
but
this
very
day
I
asked
her
questions
,
and
she
answered
me
So
far
from
what
she
was
,
so
childishly
,
So
sillily
,
as
if
she
were
a
fool
,
An
innocent
,
and
I
was
very
angry
.
But
what
of
her
,
sir
?
Nothing
but
my
pity
;
But
you
must
know
it
,
and
as
good
by
me
As
by
another
that
less
loves
her
.
Well
,
sir
?
No
,
sir
,
not
well
.
Not
right
?
Not
well
?
’Tis
too
true
;
she
is
mad
.
It
cannot
be
.
Believe
you’ll
find
it
so
.
I
half
suspected
What
you
told
me
.
The
gods
comfort
her
!
Either
this
was
her
love
to
Palamon
,
Or
fear
of
my
miscarrying
on
his
’scape
,
Or
both
.
’Tis
likely
.
But
why
all
this
haste
,
sir
?
I’ll
tell
you
quickly
.
As
I
late
was
angling
ACT 4. SC. 1
In
the
great
lake
that
lies
behind
the
palace
,
From
the
far
shore
—
thick
set
with
reeds
and
sedges
—
As
patiently
I
was
attending
sport
,
I
heard
a
voice
,
a
shrill
one
;
and
,
attentive
,
I
gave
my
ear
,
when
I
might
well
perceive
’Twas
one
that
sung
,
and
by
the
smallness
of
it
A
boy
or
woman
.
I
then
left
my
angle
To
his
own
skill
,
came
near
,
but
yet
perceived
not
Who
made
the
sound
,
the
rushes
and
the
reeds
Had
so
encompassed
it
.
I
laid
me
down
And
listened
to
the
words
she
sung
,
for
then
,
Through
a
small
glade
cut
by
the
fishermen
,
I
saw
it
was
your
daughter
.
Pray
go
on
,
sir
.
She
sung
much
,
but
no
sense
;
only
I
heard
her
Repeat
this
often
:
Palamon
is
gone
,
Is
gone
to
th’
wood
to
gather
mulberries
;
I’ll
find
him
out
tomorrow
.
Pretty
soul
!
His
shackles
will
betray
him
;
he’ll
be
taken
,
And
what
shall
I
do
then
?
I’ll
bring
a
bevy
,
A
hundred
black-eyed
maids
that
love
as
I
do
,
With
chaplets
on
their
heads
of
daffadillies
,
With
cherry
lips
and
cheeks
of
damask
roses
,
And
all
we’ll
dance
an
antic
’fore
the
Duke
,
And
beg
his
pardon
.
Then
she
talked
of
you
,
sir
—
That
you
must
lose
your
head
tomorrow
morning
,
And
she
must
gather
flowers
to
bury
you
,
And
see
the
house
made
handsome
.
Then
she
sung
Nothing
but
Willow
,
willow
,
willow
,
and
between
Ever
was
Palamon
,
fair
Palamon
,
And
Palamon
was
a
tall
young
man
.
The
place
Was
knee-deep
where
she
sat
;
her
careless
tresses
,
ACT 4. SC. 1
A
wreath
of
bulrush
rounded
;
about
her
stuck
Thousand
freshwater
flowers
of
several
colors
,
That
methought
she
appeared
like
the
fair
nymph
That
feeds
the
lake
with
waters
,
or
as
Iris
Newly
dropped
down
from
heaven
.
Rings
she
made
Of
rushes
that
grew
by
,
and
to
’em
spoke
The
prettiest
posies
:
Thus
our
true
love’s
tied
,
This
you
may
lose
,
not
me
,
and
many
a
one
;
And
then
she
wept
,
and
sung
again
,
and
sighed
,
And
with
the
same
breath
smiled
and
kissed
her
hand
.
Alas
,
what
pity
it
is
!
I
made
in
to
her
.
She
saw
me
,
and
straight
sought
the
flood
.
I
saved
her
And
set
her
safe
to
land
,
when
presently
She
slipped
away
,
and
to
the
city
made
With
such
a
cry
and
swiftness
that
,
believe
me
,
She
left
me
far
behind
her
.
Three
or
four
I
saw
from
far
off
cross
her
—
one
of
’em
I
knew
to
be
your
brother
—
where
she
stayed
And
fell
,
scarce
to
be
got
away
.
I
left
them
with
her
And
hither
came
to
tell
you
.
Enter
Jailer’s
Brother
,
Jailer’s
Daughter
,
and
others
.
Here
they
are
.
,
sings
May
you
never
more
enjoy
the
light
,
etc.
Is
not
this
a
fine
song
?
O
,
a
very
fine
one
.
I
can
sing
twenty
more
.
I
think
you
can
.
Yes
,
truly
can
I
.
I
can
sing
The
Broom
and
Bonny
Robin
.
Are
not
you
a
tailor
?
Yes
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Where’s
my
wedding
gown
?
I’ll
bring
it
tomorrow
.
Do
,
very
rarely
,
I
must
be
abroad
else
to
call
the
maids
and
pay
the
minstrels
,
for
I
must
lose
my
maidenhead
by
cocklight
.
’Twill
never
thrive
else
.
Sings
.
O
fair
,
O
sweet
,
etc.
,
to
Jailer
You
must
e’en
take
it
patiently
.
’Tis
true
.
Good
e’en
,
good
men
.
Pray
,
did
you
ever
hear
of
one
young
Palamon
?
Yes
,
wench
,
we
know
him
.
Is
’t
not
a
fine
young
gentleman
?
’Tis
,
love
.
,
aside
to
others
By
no
mean
cross
her
;
she
is
then
distempered
far
worse
than
now
she
shows
.
,
to
Daughter
Yes
,
he’s
a
fine
man
.
O
,
is
he
so
?
You
have
a
sister
.
Yes
.
But
she
shall
never
have
him
—
tell
her
so
—
for
a
trick
that
I
know
;
you’d
best
look
to
her
,
for
if
she
see
him
once
,
she’s
gone
,
she’s
done
and
undone
in
an
hour
.
All
the
young
maids
of
our
town
are
in
love
with
him
,
but
I
laugh
at
’em
and
let
’em
all
alone
.
Is
’t
not
a
wise
course
?
Yes
.
There
is
at
least
two
hundred
now
with
child
by
him
—
there
must
be
four
;
yet
I
keep
close
for
all
this
,
close
as
a
cockle
;
and
all
these
must
be
boys
—
he
has
the
trick
on
’t
—
and
at
ten
years
old
they
must
be
all
gelt
for
musicians
and
sing
the
wars
of
Theseus
.
This
is
strange
.
As
ever
you
heard
,
but
say
nothing
.
No
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
They
come
from
all
parts
of
the
dukedom
to
him
;
I’ll
warrant
you
,
he
had
not
so
few
last
night
as
twenty
to
dispatch
.
He’ll
tickle
’t
up
in
two
hours
,
if
his
hand
be
in
.
,
aside
She’s
lost
past
all
cure
.
Heaven
forbid
,
man
!
,
to
Jailer
Come
hither
;
you
are
a
wise
man
.
,
aside
Does
she
know
him
?
No
;
would
she
did
.
You
are
master
of
a
ship
?
Yes
.
Where’s
your
compass
?
Here
.
Set
it
to
th’
north
.
And
now
direct
your
course
to
th’
wood
,
where
Palamon
lies
longing
for
me
.
For
the
tackling
,
let
me
alone
.
—
Come
,
weigh
,
my
hearts
,
cheerly
.
,
as
if
sailing
a
ship
Owgh
,
owgh
,
owgh
!
—
’Tis
up
!
The
wind’s
fair
!
—
Top
the
bowline
!
—
Out
with
the
main
sail
!
Where’s
your
whistle
,
master
?
Let’s
get
her
in
!
Up
to
the
top
,
boy
!
Where’s
the
pilot
?
Here
.
What
kenn’st
thou
?
A
fair
wood
.
Bear
for
it
,
master
.
Tack
about
!
Sings
.
When
Cynthia
with
her
borrowed
light
,
etc.
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Emilia
alone
,
with
two
pictures
.
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
fall
for
me
;
their
weeping
mothers
,
Following
the
dead
cold
ashes
of
their
sons
,
Shall
never
curse
my
cruelty
.
Looks
at
one
of
the
pictures
.
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
an
eye
,
Of
what
a
fiery
sparkle
and
quick
sweetness
,
Has
this
young
prince
!
Here
Love
himself
sits
smiling
;
Just
such
another
wanton
Ganymede
Set
Jove
afire
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
than
Pelops’
shoulder
!
Fame
and
Honor
,
Methinks
,
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
such
men
near
’em
.
Looks
at
the
other
picture
.
Palamon
Is
but
his
foil
,
to
him
a
mere
dull
shadow
;
He’s
swart
and
meager
,
of
an
eye
as
heavy
ACT 4. SC. 2
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
;
Narcissus
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
’em
?
What
a
bold
gravity
,
and
yet
inviting
,
Has
this
brown
manly
face
!
O
Love
,
this
only
From
this
hour
is
complexion
.
Lie
there
,
Arcite
.
She
puts
aside
his
picture
.
Thou
art
a
changeling
to
him
,
a
mere
gypsy
,
And
this
the
noble
body
.
I
am
sotted
,
Utterly
lost
.
My
virgin’s
faith
has
fled
me
.
For
if
my
brother
but
even
now
had
asked
me
Whether
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
Fancy
,
That
,
having
two
fair
gauds
of
equal
sweetness
,
Cannot
distinguish
,
but
must
cry
for
both
.
Enter
a
Gentleman
.
How
now
,
sir
?
From
the
noble
duke
,
your
brother
,
Madam
,
I
bring
you
news
:
the
knights
are
come
.
To
end
the
quarrel
?
ACT 4. SC. 2
Yes
.
Would
I
might
end
first
!
What
sins
have
I
committed
,
chaste
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
mothers
joy
—
must
be
the
sacrifice
To
my
unhappy
beauty
?
Enter
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
Pirithous
and
Attendants
.
,
to
Attendant
Bring
’em
in
Quickly
,
by
any
means
;
I
long
to
see
’em
.
To
Emilia
.
Your
two
contending
lovers
are
returned
,
And
with
them
their
fair
knights
.
Now
,
my
fair
sister
,
You
must
love
one
of
them
.
I
had
rather
both
,
So
neither
for
my
sake
should
fall
untimely
.
Who
saw
’em
?
I
awhile
.
And
I
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
From
whence
come
you
,
sir
?
From
the
knights
.
Pray
speak
,
You
that
have
seen
them
,
what
they
are
.
I
will
,
sir
,
And
truly
what
I
think
.
Six
braver
spirits
Than
these
they
have
brought
,
if
we
judge
by
the
outside
,
ACT 4. SC. 2
I
never
saw
nor
read
of
.
He
that
stands
In
the
first
place
with
Arcite
,
by
his
seeming
,
Should
be
a
stout
man
,
by
his
face
a
prince
—
His
very
looks
so
say
him
;
his
complexion
Nearer
a
brown
than
black
—
stern
and
yet
noble
—
Which
shows
him
hardy
,
fearless
,
proud
of
dangers
;
The
circles
of
his
eyes
show
fire
within
him
,
And
as
a
heated
lion
,
so
he
looks
.
His
hair
hangs
long
behind
him
,
black
and
shining
Like
ravens’
wings
;
his
shoulders
broad
and
strong
,
Armed
long
and
round
;
and
on
his
thigh
a
sword
Hung
by
a
curious
baldric
,
when
he
frowns
To
seal
his
will
with
.
Better
,
o’
my
conscience
,
Was
never
soldier’s
friend
.
Thou
hast
well
described
him
.
Yet
a
great
deal
short
,
Methinks
,
of
him
that’s
first
with
Palamon
.
Pray
speak
him
,
friend
.
I
guess
he
is
a
prince
too
,
And
,
if
it
may
be
,
greater
;
for
his
show
Has
all
the
ornament
of
honor
in
’t
:
He’s
somewhat
bigger
than
the
knight
he
spoke
of
,
But
of
a
face
far
sweeter
;
his
complexion
Is
,
as
a
ripe
grape
,
ruddy
.
He
has
felt
Without
doubt
what
he
fights
for
,
and
so
apter
To
make
this
cause
his
own
.
In
’s
face
appears
All
the
fair
hopes
of
what
he
undertakes
,
And
when
he’s
angry
,
then
a
settled
valor
,
Not
tainted
with
extremes
,
runs
through
his
body
And
guides
his
arm
to
brave
things
.
Fear
he
cannot
;
He
shows
no
such
soft
temper
.
His
head’s
yellow
,
Hard-haired
and
curled
,
thick-twined
like
ivy
tods
,
Not
to
undo
with
thunder
.
In
his
face
The
livery
of
the
warlike
maid
appears
,
ACT 4. SC. 2
Pure
red
and
white
,
for
yet
no
beard
has
blessed
him
.
And
in
his
rolling
eyes
sits
Victory
,
As
if
she
ever
meant
to
crown
his
valor
.
His
nose
stands
high
,
a
character
of
honor
;
His
red
lips
,
after
fights
,
are
fit
for
ladies
.
Must
these
men
die
too
?
When
he
speaks
,
his
tongue
Sounds
like
a
trumpet
.
All
his
lineaments
Are
as
a
man
would
wish
’em
,
strong
and
clean
.
He
wears
a
well-steeled
axe
,
the
staff
of
gold
;
His
age
some
five-and-twenty
.
There’s
another
—
A
little
man
,
but
of
a
tough
soul
,
seeming
As
great
as
any
;
fairer
promises
In
such
a
body
yet
I
never
looked
on
.
O
,
he
that’s
freckle-faced
?
The
same
,
my
lord
.
Are
they
not
sweet
ones
?
Yes
,
they
are
well
.
Methinks
,
Being
so
few
,
and
well
disposed
,
they
show
Great
and
fine
art
in
nature
.
He’s
white-haired
—
Not
wanton
white
,
but
such
a
manly
color
Next
to
an
auburn
;
tough
and
nimble-set
,
Which
shows
an
active
soul
.
His
arms
are
brawny
,
Lined
with
strong
sinews
—
to
the
shoulder-piece
Gently
they
swell
,
like
women
new-conceived
,
Which
speaks
him
prone
to
labor
,
never
fainting
Under
the
weight
of
arms
;
stout-hearted
still
,
But
when
he
stirs
,
a
tiger
.
He’s
grey-eyed
,
Which
yields
compassion
where
he
conquers
;
sharp
To
spy
advantages
,
and
where
he
finds
’em
,
He’s
swift
to
make
’em
his
.
He
does
no
wrongs
,
ACT 4. SC. 2
Nor
takes
none
.
He’s
round-faced
,
and
when
he
smiles
He
shows
a
lover
;
when
he
frowns
,
a
soldier
.
About
his
head
he
wears
the
winner’s
oak
,
And
in
it
stuck
the
favor
of
his
lady
.
His
age
some
six-and-thirty
.
In
his
hand
He
bears
a
charging-staff
embossed
with
silver
.
Are
they
all
thus
?
They
are
all
the
sons
of
honor
.
Now
,
as
I
have
a
soul
,
I
long
to
see
’em
.
—
Lady
,
you
shall
see
men
fight
now
.
I
wish
it
,
But
not
the
cause
,
my
lord
.
They
would
show
Bravely
about
the
titles
of
two
kingdoms
;
’Tis
pity
love
should
be
so
tyrannous
.
—
O
,
my
soft-hearted
sister
,
what
think
you
?
Weep
not
till
they
weep
blood
.
Wench
,
it
must
be
.
,
to
Emilia
You
have
steeled
’em
with
your
beauty
.
(
To
Pirithous
.
)
Honored
friend
,
To
you
I
give
the
field
;
pray
order
it
Fitting
the
persons
that
must
use
it
.
Yes
,
sir
.
Come
,
I’ll
go
visit
’em
.
I
cannot
stay
—
Their
fame
has
fired
me
so
—
till
they
appear
.
Good
friend
,
be
royal
.
There
shall
want
no
bravery
.
All
but
Emilia
exit
.
Poor
wench
,
go
weep
,
for
whosoever
wins
Loses
a
noble
cousin
for
thy
sins
.
She
exits
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
Jailer
,
Wooer
,
Doctor
.
Her
distraction
is
more
at
some
time
of
the
moon
than
at
other
some
,
is
it
not
?
She
is
continually
in
a
harmless
distemper
,
sleeps
little
,
altogether
without
appetite
,
save
often
drinking
,
dreaming
of
another
world
,
and
a
better
;
and
what
broken
piece
of
matter
soe’er
she’s
about
,
the
name
Palamon
lards
it
,
that
she
farces
ev’ry
business
withal
,
fits
it
to
every
question
.
Enter
Jailer’s
Daughter
.
Look
where
she
comes
;
you
shall
perceive
her
behavior
.
They
stand
aside
.
I
have
forgot
it
quite
.
The
burden
on
’t
was
down-a
down-a
,
and
penned
by
no
worse
man
than
Geraldo
,
Emilia’s
schoolmaster
.
He’s
as
fantastical
,
too
,
as
ever
he
may
go
upon
’s
legs
,
for
in
the
next
world
will
Dido
see
Palamon
,
and
then
will
she
be
out
of
love
with
Aeneas
.
,
aside
to
Jailer
and
Wooer
What
stuff’s
here
?
Poor
soul
.
E’en
thus
all
day
long
.
Now
for
this
charm
that
I
told
you
of
,
you
must
bring
a
piece
of
silver
on
the
tip
of
your
tongue
,
or
no
ferry
;
then
if
it
be
your
chance
to
come
where
the
blessed
spirits
are
,
there’s
a
sight
now
!
We
maids
that
have
our
livers
perished
,
cracked
to
pieces
with
love
,
we
shall
come
there
,
and
do
nothing
all
day
long
but
pick
flowers
with
Proserpine
.
Then
will
I
make
Palamon
a
nosegay
;
then
let
him
mark
me
then
.
How
prettily
she’s
amiss
!
Note
her
a
little
further
.
Faith
,
I’ll
tell
you
,
sometime
we
go
to
ACT 4. SC. 3
barley-break
,
we
of
the
blessed
.
Alas
,
’tis
a
sore
life
they
have
i’
th’
other
place
—
such
burning
,
frying
,
boiling
,
hissing
,
howling
,
chatt’ring
,
cursing
—
O
,
they
have
shrewd
measure
,
take
heed
!
If
one
be
mad
,
or
hang
or
drown
themselves
,
thither
they
go
,
Jupiter
bless
us
,
and
there
shall
we
be
put
in
a
cauldron
of
lead
and
usurers’
grease
,
amongst
a
whole
million
of
cutpurses
,
and
there
boil
like
a
gammon
of
bacon
that
will
never
be
enough
.
How
her
brains
coins
!
Lords
and
courtiers
that
have
got
maids
with
child
,
they
are
in
this
place
.
They
shall
stand
in
fire
up
to
the
navel
and
in
ice
up
to
th’
heart
,
and
there
th’
offending
part
burns
and
the
deceiving
part
freezes
:
in
troth
,
a
very
grievous
punishment
,
as
one
would
think
,
for
such
a
trifle
.
Believe
me
,
one
would
marry
a
leprous
witch
to
be
rid
on
’t
,
I’ll
assure
you
.
How
she
continues
this
fancy
!
’Tis
not
an
engraffed
madness
,
but
a
most
thick
and
profound
melancholy
.
To
hear
there
a
proud
lady
and
a
proud
city
wife
howl
together
—
I
were
a
beast
an
I’d
call
it
good
sport
.
One
cries
O
this
smoke
!
th’
other
,
This
fire
!
;
one
cries
,
O
,
that
ever
I
did
it
behind
the
arras
!
and
then
howls
;
th’
other
curses
a
suing
fellow
and
her
garden
house
.
Sings
.
I
will
be
true
,
my
stars
,
my
fate
,
etc.
Daughter
exits
.
What
think
you
of
her
,
sir
?
I
think
she
has
a
perturbed
mind
,
which
I
cannot
minister
to
.
Alas
,
what
then
?
Understand
you
she
ever
affected
any
man
ere
she
beheld
Palamon
?
ACT 4. SC. 3
I
was
once
,
sir
,
in
great
hope
she
had
fixed
her
liking
on
this
gentleman
,
my
friend
.
I
did
think
so
,
too
,
and
would
account
I
had
a
great
penn’orth
on
’t
to
give
half
my
state
that
both
she
and
I
,
at
this
present
,
stood
unfeignedly
on
the
same
terms
.
That
intemp’rate
surfeit
of
her
eye
hath
distempered
the
other
senses
.
They
may
return
and
settle
again
to
execute
their
preordained
faculties
,
but
they
are
now
in
a
most
extravagant
vagary
.
This
you
must
do
:
confine
her
to
a
place
where
the
light
may
rather
seem
to
steal
in
than
be
permitted
.
—
Take
upon
you
,
young
sir
,
her
friend
,
the
name
of
Palamon
;
say
you
come
to
eat
with
her
,
and
to
commune
of
love
.
This
will
catch
her
attention
,
for
this
her
mind
beats
upon
;
other
objects
that
are
inserted
’tween
her
mind
and
eye
become
the
pranks
and
friskins
of
her
madness
.
Sing
to
her
such
green
songs
of
love
as
she
says
Palamon
hath
sung
in
prison
.
Come
to
her
stuck
in
as
sweet
flowers
as
the
season
is
mistress
of
,
and
thereto
make
an
addition
of
some
other
compounded
odors
which
are
grateful
to
the
sense
.
All
this
shall
become
Palamon
,
for
Palamon
can
sing
,
and
Palamon
is
sweet
and
ev’ry
good
thing
.
Desire
to
eat
with
her
,
carve
her
,
drink
to
her
,
and
still
among
intermingle
your
petition
of
grace
and
acceptance
into
her
favor
.
Learn
what
maids
have
been
her
companions
and
playferes
,
and
let
them
repair
to
her
with
Palamon
in
their
mouths
,
and
appear
with
tokens
,
as
if
they
suggested
for
him
.
—
It
is
a
falsehood
she
is
in
,
which
is
with
falsehoods
to
be
combated
.
This
may
bring
her
to
eat
,
to
sleep
,
and
reduce
what’s
now
out
of
square
in
her
into
their
former
law
and
regiment
.
I
have
seen
it
approved
,
how
many
times
I
know
not
,
but
to
ACT 4. SC. 3
make
the
number
more
,
I
have
great
hope
in
this
.
I
will
between
the
passages
of
this
project
come
in
with
my
appliance
.
Let
us
put
it
in
execution
and
hasten
the
success
,
which
doubt
not
will
bring
forth
comfort
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Flourish
.
Enter
Theseus
,
Pirithous
,
Hippolyta
,
and
Attendants
.
Three
altars
set
up
onstage
.
Now
let
’em
enter
and
before
the
gods
Tender
their
holy
prayers
.
Let
the
temples
Burn
bright
with
sacred
fires
,
and
the
altars
In
hallowed
clouds
commend
their
swelling
incense
To
those
above
us
.
Let
no
due
be
wanting
.
They
have
a
noble
work
in
hand
will
honor
The
very
powers
that
love
’em
.
Sir
,
they
enter
.
Flourish
of
cornets
.
Enter
Palamon
and
Arcite
and
their
Knights
.
You
valiant
and
strong-hearted
enemies
,
You
royal
german
foes
,
that
this
day
come
To
blow
that
nearness
out
that
flames
between
you
,
Lay
by
your
anger
for
an
hour
and
,
dove-like
,
Before
the
holy
altars
of
your
helpers
,
The
all-feared
gods
,
bow
down
your
stubborn
bodies
.
Your
ire
is
more
than
mortal
;
so
your
help
be
.
And
as
the
gods
regard
you
,
fight
with
justice
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
I’ll
leave
you
to
your
prayers
,
and
betwixt
you
I
part
my
wishes
.
Honor
crown
the
worthiest
!
Theseus
and
his
train
exit
.
The
glass
is
running
now
that
cannot
finish
Till
one
of
us
expire
.
Think
you
but
thus
,
That
were
there
aught
in
me
which
strove
to
show
Mine
enemy
in
this
business
,
were
’t
one
eye
Against
another
,
arm
oppressed
by
arm
,
I
would
destroy
th’
offender
,
coz
—
I
would
Though
parcel
of
myself
.
Then
from
this
gather
How
I
should
tender
you
.
I
am
in
labor
To
push
your
name
,
your
ancient
love
,
our
kindred
Out
of
my
memory
,
and
i’
th’
selfsame
place
To
seat
something
I
would
confound
.
So
hoist
we
The
sails
that
must
these
vessels
port
even
where
The
heavenly
Limiter
pleases
.
You
speak
well
.
Before
I
turn
,
let
me
embrace
thee
,
cousin
.
They
embrace
.
This
I
shall
never
do
again
.
One
farewell
.
Why
,
let
it
be
so
.
Farewell
,
coz
.
Farewell
,
sir
.
Palamon
and
his
Knights
exit
.
Knights
,
kinsmen
,
lovers
,
yea
,
my
sacrifices
,
True
worshippers
of
Mars
,
whose
spirit
in
you
Expels
the
seeds
of
fear
and
th’
apprehension
Which
still
is
father
of
it
,
go
with
me
Before
the
god
of
our
profession
.
There
Require
of
him
the
hearts
of
lions
and
The
breath
of
tigers
,
yea
,
the
fierceness
too
,
Yea
,
the
speed
also
—
to
go
on
,
I
mean
;
ACT 5. SC. 1
Else
wish
we
to
be
snails
.
You
know
my
prize
Must
be
dragged
out
of
blood
;
force
and
great
feat
Must
put
my
garland
on
,
where
she
sticks
,
The
queen
of
flowers
.
Our
intercession
,
then
,
Must
be
to
him
that
makes
the
camp
a
cistern
Brimmed
with
the
blood
of
men
.
Give
me
your
aid
,
And
bend
your
spirits
towards
him
.
They
go
to
Mars’s
altar
,
fall
on
their
faces
before
it
,
and
then
kneel
.
Thou
mighty
one
,
that
with
thy
power
hast
turned
Green
Neptune
into
purple
,
whose
approach
Comets
prewarn
,
whose
havoc
in
vast
field
Unearthèd
skulls
proclaim
,
whose
breath
blows
down
The
teeming
Ceres’
foison
,
who
dost
pluck
With
hand
armipotent
from
forth
blue
clouds
The
masoned
turrets
,
that
both
mak’st
and
break’st
The
stony
girths
of
cities
;
me
thy
pupil
,
Youngest
follower
of
thy
drum
,
instruct
this
day
With
military
skill
,
that
to
thy
laud
I
may
advance
my
streamer
,
and
by
thee
Be
styled
the
lord
o’
th’
day
.
Give
me
,
great
Mars
,
Some
token
of
thy
pleasure
.
Here
they
fall
on
their
faces
as
formerly
,
and
there
is
heard
clanging
of
armor
,
with
a
short
thunder
,
as
the
burst
of
a
battle
,
whereupon
they
all
rise
and
bow
to
the
altar
.
O
,
great
corrector
of
enormous
times
,
Shaker
of
o’er-rank
states
,
thou
grand
decider
Of
dusty
and
old
titles
,
that
heal’st
with
blood
The
Earth
earth
when
it
is
sick
,
and
cur’st
the
world
O’
th’
pleurisy
of
people
,
I
do
take
Thy
signs
auspiciously
,
and
in
thy
name
To
my
design
march
boldly
.
—
Let
us
go
.
They
exit
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Enter
Palamon
and
his
Knights
,
with
the
former
observance
.
Our
stars
must
glister
with
new
fire
,
or
be
Today
extinct
.
Our
argument
is
love
,
Which
,
if
the
goddess
of
it
grant
,
she
gives
Victory
too
.
Then
blend
your
spirits
with
mine
,
You
whose
free
nobleness
do
make
my
cause
Your
personal
hazard
.
To
the
goddess
Venus
Commend
we
our
proceeding
,
and
implore
Her
power
unto
our
party
.
Here
they
go
to
Venus’s
altar
,
fall
on
their
faces
before
it
,
and
then
kneel
.
Hail
,
sovereign
queen
of
secrets
,
who
hast
power
To
call
the
fiercest
tyrant
from
his
rage
And
weep
unto
a
girl
;
that
hast
the
might
Even
with
an
eye-glance
to
choke
Mars’s
drum
And
turn
th’
alarm
to
whispers
;
that
canst
make
A
cripple
flourish
with
his
crutch
,
and
cure
him
Before
Apollo
;
that
mayst
force
the
king
To
be
his
subject’s
vassal
,
and
induce
Stale
gravity
to
dance
.
The
polled
bachelor
,
Whose
youth
,
like
wanton
boys
through
bonfires
,
Have
skipped
thy
flame
,
at
seventy
thou
canst
catch
,
And
make
him
,
to
the
scorn
of
his
hoarse
throat
,
Abuse
young
lays
of
love
.
What
godlike
power
Hast
thou
not
power
upon
?
To
Phoebus
thou
Add’st
flames
hotter
than
his
;
the
heavenly
fires
Did
scorch
his
mortal
son
,
thine
him
.
The
huntress
,
All
moist
and
cold
,
some
say
,
began
to
throw
Her
bow
away
and
sigh
.
Take
to
thy
grace
Me
,
thy
vowed
soldier
,
who
do
bear
thy
yoke
As
’twere
a
wreath
of
roses
,
yet
is
heavier
Than
lead
itself
,
stings
more
than
nettles
.
I
have
never
been
foul-mouthed
against
thy
law
,
ACT 5. SC. 1
Ne’er
revealed
secret
,
for
I
knew
none
—
would
not
,
Had
I
kenned
all
that
were
.
I
never
practiced
Upon
man’s
wife
,
nor
would
the
libels
read
Of
liberal
wits
.
I
never
at
great
feasts
Sought
to
betray
a
beauty
,
but
have
blushed
At
simp’ring
sirs
that
did
.
I
have
been
harsh
To
large
confessors
,
and
have
hotly
asked
them
If
they
had
mothers
—
I
had
one
,
a
woman
,
And
women
’twere
they
wronged
.
I
knew
a
man
Of
eighty
winters
—
this
I
told
them
—
who
A
lass
of
fourteen
brided
;
’twas
thy
power
To
put
life
into
dust
.
The
agèd
cramp
Had
screwed
his
square
foot
round
;
The
gout
had
knit
his
fingers
into
knots
;
Torturing
convulsions
from
his
globy
eyes
Had
almost
drawn
their
spheres
,
that
what
was
life
In
him
seemed
torture
.
This
anatomy
Had
by
his
young
fair
fere
a
boy
,
and
I
Believed
it
was
his
,
for
she
swore
it
was
,
And
who
would
not
believe
her
?
Brief
,
I
am
To
those
that
prate
and
have
done
,
no
companion
;
To
those
that
boast
and
have
not
,
a
defier
;
To
those
that
would
and
cannot
,
a
rejoicer
.
Yea
,
him
I
do
not
love
that
tells
close
offices
The
foulest
way
,
nor
names
concealments
in
The
boldest
language
.
Such
a
one
I
am
,
And
vow
that
lover
never
yet
made
sigh
Truer
than
I
.
O
,
then
,
most
soft
sweet
goddess
,
Give
me
the
victory
of
this
question
,
which
Is
true
love’s
merit
,
and
bless
me
with
a
sign
Of
thy
great
pleasure
.
Here
music
is
heard
;
doves
are
seen
to
flutter
.
They
fall
again
upon
their
faces
,
then
on
their
knees
.
O
thou
that
from
eleven
to
ninety
reign’st
In
mortal
bosoms
,
whose
chase
is
this
world
ACT 5. SC. 1
And
we
in
herds
thy
game
,
I
give
thee
thanks
For
this
fair
token
,
which
being
laid
unto
Mine
innocent
true
heart
,
arms
in
assurance
My
body
to
this
business
.
—
Let
us
rise
And
bow
before
the
goddess
.
They
rise
and
bow
.
Time
comes
on
.
They
exit
.
Still
music
of
recorders
.
Enter
Emilia
in
white
,
her
hair
about
her
shoulders
,
wearing
a
wheaten
wreath
;
one
in
white
holding
up
her
train
,
her
hair
stuck
with
flowers
;
one
before
her
carrying
a
silver
hind
,
in
which
is
conveyed
incense
and
sweet
odors
,
which
being
set
upon
the
altar
of
Diana
,
her
maids
standing
aloof
,
she
sets
fire
to
it
.
Then
they
curtsy
and
kneel
.
O
sacred
,
shadowy
,
cold
,
and
constant
queen
,
Abandoner
of
revels
,
mute
contemplative
,
Sweet
,
solitary
,
white
as
chaste
,
and
pure
As
wind-fanned
snow
,
who
to
thy
female
knights
Allow’st
no
more
blood
than
will
make
a
blush
,
Which
is
their
order’s
robe
,
I
here
,
thy
priest
,
Am
humbled
’fore
thine
altar
.
O
,
vouchsafe
With
that
thy
rare
green
eye
,
which
never
yet
Beheld
thing
maculate
,
look
on
thy
virgin
,
And
,
sacred
silver
mistress
,
lend
thine
ear
—
Which
ne’er
heard
scurrile
term
,
into
whose
port
Ne’er
entered
wanton
sound
—
to
my
petition
,
Seasoned
with
holy
fear
.
This
is
my
last
Of
vestal
office
.
I
am
bride-habited
But
maiden-hearted
.
A
husband
I
have
’pointed
,
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
doom
neither
;
that
which
perished
should
ACT 5. SC. 2
Go
to
’t
unsentenced
.
Therefore
,
most
modest
queen
,
He
of
the
two
pretenders
that
best
loves
me
And
has
the
truest
title
in
’t
,
let
him
Take
off
my
wheaten
garland
,
or
else
grant
The
file
and
quality
I
hold
I
may
Continue
in
thy
band
.
Here
the
hind
vanishes
under
the
altar
,
and
in
the
place
ascends
a
rose
tree
,
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
unplucked
.
Here
is
heard
a
sudden
twang
of
instruments
,
and
the
rose
falls
from
the
tree
.
The
flower
is
fall’n
,
the
tree
descends
.
O
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
.
They
curtsy
and
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Doctor
,
Jailer
,
and
Wooer
in
the
habit
of
Palamon
.
Has
this
advice
I
told
you
done
any
good
upon
her
?
O
,
very
much
.
The
maids
that
kept
her
company
Have
half-persuaded
her
that
I
am
Palamon
;
Within
this
half-hour
she
came
smiling
to
me
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
And
asked
me
what
I
would
eat
,
and
when
I
would
kiss
her
.
I
told
her
Presently
,
and
kissed
her
twice
.
’Twas
well
done
;
twenty
times
had
been
far
better
,
For
there
the
cure
lies
mainly
.
Then
she
told
me
She
would
watch
with
me
tonight
,
for
well
she
knew
What
hour
my
fit
would
take
me
.
Let
her
do
so
,
And
when
your
fit
comes
,
fit
her
home
,
And
presently
.
She
would
have
me
sing
.
You
did
so
?
No
.
’Twas
very
ill
done
,
then
.
You
should
observe
her
ev’ry
way
.
Alas
,
I
have
no
voice
,
sir
,
to
confirm
her
that
way
.
That’s
all
one
,
if
you
make
a
noise
.
If
she
entreat
again
,
do
anything
.
Lie
with
her
,
if
she
ask
you
.
Ho
there
,
doctor
!
Yes
,
in
the
way
of
cure
.
But
first
,
by
your
leave
,
I’
th’
way
of
honesty
.
That’s
but
a
niceness
.
Ne’er
cast
your
child
away
for
honesty
.
Cure
her
first
this
way
;
then
if
she
will
be
honest
,
She
has
the
path
before
her
.
Thank
you
,
doctor
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Pray
bring
her
in
And
let’s
see
how
she
is
.
I
will
,
and
tell
her
Her
Palamon
stays
for
her
.
But
,
doctor
,
Methinks
you
are
i’
th’
wrong
still
.
Jailer
exits
.
Go
,
go
.
You
fathers
are
fine
fools
.
Her
honesty
?
And
we
should
give
her
physic
till
we
find
that
!
Why
,
do
you
think
she
is
not
honest
,
sir
?
How
old
is
she
?
She’s
eighteen
.
She
may
be
.
But
that’s
all
one
;
’tis
nothing
to
our
purpose
.
Whate’er
her
father
says
,
if
you
perceive
Her
mood
inclining
that
way
that
I
spoke
of
,
Videlicet
,
the
way
of
flesh
—
you
have
me
?
Yes
,
very
well
,
sir
.
Please
her
appetite
,
And
do
it
home
;
it
cures
her
,
ipso
facto
,
The
melancholy
humor
that
infects
her
.
I
am
of
your
mind
,
doctor
.
You’ll
find
it
so
.
Enter
Jailer
,
Daughter
,
and
Maid
.
She
comes
;
pray
humor
her
.
Wooer
and
Doctor
stand
aside
.
,
to
Daughter
Come
,
your
love
Palamon
stays
for
you
,
child
,
And
has
done
this
long
hour
,
to
visit
you
.
I
thank
him
for
his
gentle
patience
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
He’s
a
kind
gentleman
,
and
I
am
much
bound
to
him
.
Did
you
ne’er
see
the
horse
he
gave
me
?
Yes
.
How
do
you
like
him
?
He’s
a
very
fair
one
.
You
never
saw
him
dance
?
No
.
I
have
,
often
.
He
dances
very
finely
,
very
comely
,
And
for
a
jig
,
come
cut
and
long
tail
to
him
,
He
turns
you
like
a
top
.
That’s
fine
indeed
.
He’ll
dance
the
morris
twenty
mile
an
hour
,
And
that
will
founder
the
best
hobbyhorse
,
If
I
have
any
skill
,
in
all
the
parish
,
And
gallops
to
the
tune
of
Light
o’
love
.
What
think
you
of
this
horse
?
Having
these
virtues
,
I
think
he
might
be
brought
to
play
at
tennis
.
Alas
,
that’s
nothing
.
Can
he
write
and
read
too
?
A
very
fair
hand
,
and
casts
himself
th’
accounts
Of
all
his
hay
and
provender
.
That
hostler
Must
rise
betime
that
cozens
him
.
You
know
The
chestnut
mare
the
Duke
has
?
Very
well
.
She
is
horribly
in
love
with
him
,
poor
beast
,
But
he
is
like
his
master
,
coy
and
scornful
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
What
dowry
has
she
?
Some
two
hundred
bottles
,
And
twenty
strike
of
oats
,
but
he’ll
ne’er
have
her
.
He
lisps
in
’s
neighing
able
to
entice
A
miller’s
mare
.
He’ll
be
the
death
of
her
.
,
aside
What
stuff
she
utters
!
Wooer
and
Doctor
come
forward
.
Make
curtsy
;
here
your
love
comes
.
Pretty
soul
,
How
do
you
?
Daughter
curtsies
.
That’s
a
fine
maid
;
there’s
a
curtsy
!
Yours
to
command
i’
th’
way
of
honesty
.
—
How
far
is
’t
now
to
th’
end
o’
th’
world
,
my
masters
?
Why
,
a
day’s
journey
,
wench
.
,
to
Wooer
Will
you
go
with
me
?
What
shall
we
do
there
,
wench
?
Why
,
play
at
stool-ball
.
What
is
there
else
to
do
?
I
am
content
,
If
we
shall
keep
our
wedding
there
.
’Tis
true
,
For
there
,
I
will
assure
you
,
we
shall
find
Some
blind
priest
for
the
purpose
,
that
will
venture
To
marry
us
;
for
here
they
are
nice
and
foolish
.
Besides
,
my
father
must
be
hanged
tomorrow
,
And
that
would
be
a
blot
i’
th’
business
.
Are
not
you
Palamon
?
Do
not
you
know
me
?
ACT 5. SC. 2
Yes
,
but
you
care
not
for
me
;
I
have
nothing
But
this
poor
petticoat
and
two
coarse
smocks
.
That’s
all
one
;
I
will
have
you
.
Will
you
surely
?
,
taking
her
hand
Yes
,
by
this
fair
hand
,
will
I
.
We’ll
to
bed
then
.
E’en
when
you
will
.
He
kisses
her
.
,
wiping
her
face
O
,
sir
,
you
would
fain
be
nibbling
.
Why
do
you
rub
my
kiss
off
?
’Tis
a
sweet
one
,
And
will
perfume
me
finely
against
the
wedding
.
Is
not
this
your
cousin
Arcite
?
She
indicates
Doctor
.
Yes
,
sweetheart
,
And
I
am
glad
my
cousin
Palamon
Has
made
so
fair
a
choice
.
Do
you
think
he’ll
have
me
?
Yes
,
without
doubt
.
,
to
Jailer
Do
you
think
so
too
?
Yes
.
We
shall
have
many
children
.
(
To
Doctor
.
)
Lord
,
how
you’re
grown
!
My
Palamon
,
I
hope
,
will
grow
too
,
finely
,
Now
he’s
at
liberty
.
Alas
,
poor
chicken
,
He
was
kept
down
with
hard
meat
and
ill
lodging
,
But
I’ll
kiss
him
up
again
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
What
do
you
here
?
You’ll
lose
the
noblest
sight
That
e’er
was
seen
.
Are
they
i’
th’
field
?
They
are
.
You
bear
a
charge
there
too
.
I’ll
away
straight
.
—
I
must
e’en
leave
you
here
.
Nay
,
we’ll
go
with
you
.
I
will
not
lose
the
sight
.
,
aside
to
Doctor
How
did
you
like
her
?
I’ll
warrant
you
,
within
these
three
or
four
days
I’ll
make
her
right
again
.
Jailer
and
Messenger
exit
.
(
To
Wooer
.
)
You
must
not
from
her
,
But
still
preserve
her
in
this
way
.
I
will
.
Let’s
get
her
in
.
Come
,
sweet
,
we’ll
go
to
dinner
And
then
we’ll
play
at
cards
.
And
shall
we
kiss
too
?
A
hundred
times
.
And
twenty
.
Ay
,
and
twenty
.
And
then
we’ll
sleep
together
.
,
to
Wooer
Take
her
offer
.
Yes
,
marry
,
will
we
.
But
you
shall
not
hurt
me
.
I
will
not
,
sweet
.
If
you
do
,
love
,
I’ll
cry
.
They
exit
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
Scene
3
Flourish
.
Enter
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
Emilia
,
Pirithous
,
and
some
Attendants
.
I’ll
no
step
further
.
Will
you
lose
this
sight
?
I
had
rather
see
a
wren
hawk
at
a
fly
Than
this
decision
;
ev’ry
blow
that
falls
Threats
a
brave
life
;
each
stroke
laments
The
place
whereon
it
falls
,
and
sounds
more
like
A
bell
than
blade
.
I
will
stay
here
.
It
is
enough
my
hearing
shall
be
punished
With
what
shall
happen
,
’gainst
the
which
there
is
No
deafing
but
to
hear
;
not
taint
mine
eye
With
dread
sights
it
may
shun
.
,
to
Theseus
Sir
,
my
good
lord
,
Your
sister
will
no
further
.
O
,
she
must
.
She
shall
see
deeds
of
honor
in
their
kind
,
Which
sometime
show
well
,
penciled
.
Nature
now
Shall
make
and
act
the
story
,
the
belief
Both
sealed
with
eye
and
ear
.
—
You
must
be
present
;
You
are
the
victor’s
meed
,
the
price
and
garland
To
crown
the
question’s
title
.
Pardon
me
.
If
I
were
there
,
I’d
wink
.
You
must
be
there
;
This
trial
is
as
’twere
i’
th’
night
,
and
you
The
only
star
to
shine
.
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
does
stand
accursed
Of
many
mortal
millions
,
may
even
now
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
By
casting
her
black
mantle
over
both
,
That
neither
could
find
other
,
get
herself
Some
part
of
a
good
name
,
and
many
a
murder
Set
off
whereto
she’s
guilty
.
You
must
go
.
In
faith
,
I
will
not
.
Why
,
the
knights
must
kindle
Their
valor
at
your
eye
.
Know
,
of
this
war
You
are
the
treasure
,
and
must
needs
be
by
To
give
the
service
pay
.
Sir
,
pardon
me
.
The
title
of
a
kingdom
may
be
tried
Out
of
itself
.
Well
,
well
,
then
;
at
your
pleasure
.
Those
that
remain
with
you
could
wish
their
office
To
any
of
their
enemies
.
Farewell
,
sister
.
I
am
like
to
know
your
husband
’fore
yourself
By
some
small
start
of
time
.
He
whom
the
gods
Do
of
the
two
know
best
,
I
pray
them
he
Be
made
your
lot
.
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
Pirithous
,
and
others
,
exit
.
Emilia
remains
,
comparing
again
the
pictures
of
Arcite
and
Palamon
.
Arcite
is
gently
visaged
,
yet
his
eye
Is
like
an
engine
bent
,
or
a
sharp
weapon
In
a
soft
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
sometimes
’tis
not
so
,
but
alters
to
The
quality
of
his
thoughts
.
Long
time
his
eye
Will
dwell
upon
his
object
.
Melancholy
Becomes
him
nobly
;
so
does
Arcite’s
mirth
;
ACT 5. SC. 3
But
Palamon’s
sadness
is
a
kind
of
mirth
,
So
mingled
,
as
if
mirth
did
make
him
sad
And
sadness
merry
.
Those
darker
humors
that
Stick
misbecomingly
on
others
,
on
them
Live
in
fair
dwelling
.
Cornets
.
Trumpets
sound
as
to
a
charge
.
Hark
how
yon
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
.
O
,
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
an
offense
Which
craved
that
very
time
.
Cornets
.
A
great
cry
and
noise
within
crying
À
Palamon
!
It
is
much
better
I
am
not
there
.
O
,
better
never
born
Than
minister
to
such
harm
!
Enter
Servant
.
What
is
the
chance
?
The
cry’s
À
Palamon
.
Then
he
has
won
.
’Twas
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
.
Shout
and
cornets
,
crying
À
Palamon
!
Still
Palamon
.
Run
and
inquire
.
Servant
exits
.
Addressing
Arcite’s
picture
.
Poor
servant
,
thou
hast
lost
.
Upon
my
right
side
still
I
wore
thy
picture
,
Palamon’s
on
the
left
—
why
so
,
I
know
not
.
ACT 5. SC. 3
I
had
no
end
in
’t
else
;
chance
would
have
it
so
.
On
the
sinister
side
the
heart
lies
;
Palamon
Had
the
best-boding
chance
.
Another
cry
,
and
shout
within
,
and
cornets
.
This
burst
of
clamor
Is
sure
th’
end
o’
th’
combat
.
Enter
Servant
.
They
said
that
Palamon
had
Arcite’s
body
Within
an
inch
o’
th’
pyramid
,
that
the
cry
Was
general
À
Palamon
.
But
anon
,
Th’
assistants
made
a
brave
redemption
,
and
The
two
bold
titlers
at
this
instant
are
Hand
to
hand
at
it
.
Were
they
metamorphosed
Both
into
one
—
O
,
why
,
there
were
no
woman
Worth
so
composed
a
man
!
Their
single
share
,
Their
nobleness
peculiar
to
them
,
gives
The
prejudice
of
disparity
,
value’s
shortness
,
To
any
lady
breathing
.
Cornets
.
Cry
within
,
Arcite
,
Arcite
.
More
exulting
?
Palamon
still
?
Nay
,
now
the
sound
is
Arcite
.
I
prithee
lay
attention
to
the
cry
;
Set
both
thine
ears
to
th’
business
.
Cornets
.
A
great
shout
,
and
cry
Arcite
,
victory
!
The
cry
is
Arcite
And
Victory
!
Hark
,
Arcite
,
victory
!
The
combat’s
consummation
is
proclaimed
By
the
wind
instruments
.
Half-sights
saw
That
Arcite
was
no
babe
.
God’s
lid
,
his
richness
And
costliness
of
spirit
looked
through
him
;
it
could
ACT 5. SC. 3
No
more
be
hid
in
him
than
fire
in
flax
,
Than
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
!
Cornets
.
Enter
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
Pirithous
,
Arcite
as
victor
,
and
Attendants
and
others
.
Lo
,
where
our
sister
is
in
expectation
,
Yet
quaking
and
unsettled
.
—
Fairest
Emily
,
The
gods
by
their
divine
arbitrament
Have
given
you
this
knight
;
he
is
a
good
one
As
ever
struck
at
head
.
—
Give
me
your
hands
.
Receive
you
her
,
you
him
.
Be
plighted
with
A
love
that
grows
as
you
decay
.
Emily
,
To
buy
you
I
have
lost
what’s
dearest
to
me
Save
what
is
bought
,
and
yet
I
purchase
cheaply
,
As
I
do
rate
your
value
.
O
loved
sister
,
He
speaks
now
of
as
brave
a
knight
as
e’er
Did
spur
a
noble
steed
.
Surely
the
gods
Would
have
him
die
a
bachelor
,
lest
his
race
Should
show
i’
th’
world
too
godlike
.
His
behavior
So
charmed
me
that
methought
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
lose
by
’t
,
for
he
that
was
thus
good
Encountered
yet
his
better
.
I
have
heard
Two
emulous
Philomels
beat
the
ear
o’
th’
night
With
their
contentious
throats
,
now
one
the
higher
,
Anon
the
other
,
then
again
the
first
,
And
by-and-by
out-breasted
,
that
the
sense
ACT 5. SC. 4
Could
not
be
judge
between
’em
.
So
it
fared
Good
space
between
these
kinsmen
,
till
heavens
did
Make
hardly
one
the
winner
.
—
Wear
the
garland
With
joy
that
you
have
won
.
—
For
the
subdued
,
Give
them
our
present
justice
,
since
I
know
Their
lives
but
pinch
’em
.
Let
it
here
be
done
.
The
scene’s
not
for
our
seeing
.
Go
we
hence
Right
joyful
,
with
some
sorrow
.
—
Arm
your
prize
;
I
know
you
will
not
lose
her
.
—
Hippolyta
,
I
see
one
eye
of
yours
conceives
a
tear
,
The
which
it
will
deliver
.
Is
this
winning
?
O
all
you
heavenly
powers
,
where
is
your
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
than
all
women
,
I
should
and
would
die
too
.
Infinite
pity
That
four
such
eyes
should
be
so
fixed
on
one
That
two
must
needs
be
blind
for
’t
.
So
it
is
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Guard
with
Palamon
and
his
Knights
,
pinioned
;
Jailer
,
Executioner
and
Others
,
carrying
a
block
and
an
ax
.
There’s
many
a
man
alive
that
hath
outlived
The
love
o’
th’
people
;
yea
,
i’
th’
selfsame
state
Stands
many
a
father
with
his
child
.
Some
comfort
We
have
by
so
considering
.
We
expire
,
And
not
without
men’s
pity
.
To
live
still
,
ACT 5. SC. 4
Have
their
good
wishes
;
we
prevent
The
loathsome
misery
of
age
,
beguile
The
gout
and
rheum
that
in
lag
hours
attend
For
gray
approachers
;
we
come
towards
the
gods
Young
and
unwappered
,
not
halting
under
crimes
Many
and
stale
.
That
sure
shall
please
the
gods
Sooner
than
such
,
to
give
us
nectar
with
’em
,
For
we
are
more
clear
spirits
.
My
dear
kinsmen
,
Whose
lives
for
this
poor
comfort
are
laid
down
,
You
have
sold
’em
too
too
cheap
.
What
ending
could
be
Of
more
content
?
O’er
us
the
victors
have
Fortune
,
whose
title
is
as
momentary
As
to
us
death
is
certain
.
A
grain
of
honor
They
not
o’er-weigh
us
.
Let
us
bid
farewell
;
And
with
our
patience
anger
tott’ring
Fortune
,
Who
at
her
certain’st
reels
.
Come
,
who
begins
?
E’en
he
that
led
you
to
this
banquet
shall
Taste
to
you
all
.
To
Jailer
.
Ah
ha
,
my
friend
,
my
friend
,
Your
gentle
daughter
gave
me
freedom
once
;
You’ll
see
’t
done
now
forever
.
Pray
,
how
does
she
?
I
heard
she
was
not
well
;
her
kind
of
ill
Gave
me
some
sorrow
.
Sir
,
she’s
well
restored
,
And
to
be
married
shortly
.
By
my
short
life
,
I
am
most
glad
on
’t
.
’Tis
the
latest
thing
I
shall
be
glad
of
;
prithee
,
tell
her
so
.
Commend
me
to
her
,
and
to
piece
her
portion
,
Tender
her
this
.
He
gives
his
purse
to
Jailer
.
Nay
,
let’s
be
offerers
all
.
ACT 5. SC. 4
Is
it
a
maid
?
Verily
,
I
think
so
.
A
right
good
creature
,
more
to
me
deserving
Than
I
can
quit
or
speak
of
.
Commend
us
to
her
.
They
give
their
purses
.
The
gods
requite
you
all
and
make
her
thankful
!
Adieu
,
and
let
my
life
be
now
as
short
As
my
leave-taking
.
Lays
his
head
on
the
block
.
Lead
,
courageous
cousin
.
We’ll
follow
cheerfully
.
A
great
noise
within
crying
Run
!
Save
!
Hold
!
Enter
in
haste
a
Messenger
.
Hold
,
hold
!
O
,
hold
,
hold
,
hold
!
Enter
Pirithous
in
haste
.
Hold
,
ho
!
It
is
a
cursèd
haste
you
made
If
you
have
done
so
quickly
!
—
Noble
Palamon
,
The
gods
will
show
their
glory
in
a
life
That
thou
art
yet
to
lead
.
Can
that
be
,
When
Venus
,
I
have
said
,
is
false
?
How
do
things
fare
?
Arise
,
great
sir
,
and
give
the
tidings
ear
That
are
most
dearly
sweet
and
bitter
.
,
rising
What
Hath
waked
us
from
our
dream
?
List
then
:
your
cousin
,
ACT 5. SC. 4
Mounted
upon
a
steed
that
Emily
Did
first
bestow
on
him
—
a
black
one
,
owing
Not
a
hair
worth
of
white
,
which
some
will
say
Weakens
his
price
,
and
many
will
not
buy
His
goodness
with
this
note
,
which
superstition
Here
finds
allowance
—
on
this
horse
is
Arcite
Trotting
the
stones
of
Athens
—
which
the
calkins
Did
rather
tell
than
trample
,
for
the
horse
Would
make
his
length
a
mile
,
if
’t
pleased
his
rider
To
put
pride
in
him
.
As
he
thus
went
counting
The
flinty
pavement
,
dancing
,
as
’twere
,
to
th’
music
His
own
hooves
made
—
for
,
as
they
say
,
from
iron
Came
music’s
origin
—
what
envious
flint
,
Cold
as
old
Saturn
,
and
like
him
possessed
With
fire
malevolent
,
darted
a
spark
,
Or
what
fierce
sulphur
else
,
to
this
end
made
,
I
comment
not
;
the
hot
horse
,
hot
as
fire
,
Took
toy
at
this
and
fell
to
what
disorder
His
power
could
give
his
will
;
bounds
,
comes
on
end
,
Forgets
school-doing
,
being
therein
trained
And
of
kind
manage
.
Pig-like
he
whines
At
the
sharp
rowel
,
which
he
frets
at
rather
Than
any
jot
obeys
;
seeks
all
foul
means
Of
boist’rous
and
rough
jadery
to
disseat
His
lord
that
kept
it
bravely
.
When
naught
served
,
When
neither
curb
would
crack
,
girth
break
,
nor
diff’ring
plunges
Disroot
his
rider
whence
he
grew
,
but
that
He
kept
him
’tween
his
legs
,
on
his
hind
hoofs
On
end
he
stands
That
Arcite’s
legs
,
being
higher
than
his
head
,
Seemed
with
strange
art
to
hang
.
His
victor’s
wreath
Even
then
fell
off
his
head
,
and
presently
Backward
the
jade
comes
o’er
,
and
his
full
poise
Becomes
the
rider’s
load
.
Yet
is
he
living
,
But
such
a
vessel
’tis
that
floats
but
for
ACT 5. SC. 4
The
surge
that
next
approaches
.
He
much
desires
To
have
some
speech
with
you
.
Lo
,
he
appears
.
Enter
Theseus
,
Hippolyta
,
Emilia
,
and
Arcite
carried
in
a
chair
.
O
,
miserable
end
of
our
alliance
!
The
gods
are
mighty
,
Arcite
.
If
thy
heart
,
Thy
worthy
,
manly
heart
,
be
yet
unbroken
,
Give
me
thy
last
words
.
I
am
Palamon
,
One
that
yet
loves
thee
dying
.
Take
Emilia
And
with
her
all
the
world’s
joy
.
Reach
thy
hand
;
Farewell
.
I
have
told
my
last
hour
.
I
was
false
,
Yet
never
treacherous
.
Forgive
me
,
cousin
.
One
kiss
from
fair
Emilia
.
She
kisses
him
.
’Tis
done
.
Take
her
.
I
die
.
He
dies
.
Thy
brave
soul
seek
Elysium
!
I’ll
close
thine
eyes
,
prince
.
Blessed
souls
be
with
thee
!
Thou
art
a
right
good
man
,
and
while
I
live
,
This
day
I
give
to
tears
.
And
I
to
honor
.
In
this
place
first
you
fought
;
e’en
very
here
I
sundered
you
.
Acknowledge
to
the
gods
Our
thanks
that
you
are
living
.
His
part
is
played
,
and
though
it
were
too
short
,
He
did
it
well
.
Your
day
is
lengthened
,
and
The
blissful
dew
of
heaven
does
arrouse
you
.
The
powerful
Venus
well
hath
graced
her
altar
,
And
given
you
your
love
.
Our
master
,
Mars
,
Hath
vouched
his
oracle
,
and
to
Arcite
gave
ACT 5. SC. 4
The
grace
of
the
contention
.
So
the
deities
Have
showed
due
justice
.
—
Bear
this
hence
.
O
cousin
,
That
we
should
things
desire
which
do
cost
us
The
loss
of
our
desire
,
that
naught
could
buy
Dear
love
but
loss
of
dear
love
.
Arcite’s
body
is
carried
out
.
Never
Fortune
Did
play
a
subtler
game
.
The
conquered
triumphs
;
The
victor
has
the
loss
;
yet
in
the
passage
The
gods
have
been
most
equal
.
—
Palamon
,
Your
kinsman
hath
confessed
the
right
o’
th’
lady
Did
lie
in
you
,
for
you
first
saw
her
and
Even
then
proclaimed
your
fancy
.
He
restored
her
As
your
stol’n
jewel
and
desired
your
spirit
To
send
him
hence
forgiven
.
The
gods
my
justice
Take
from
my
hand
and
they
themselves
become
The
executioners
.
Lead
your
lady
off
,
And
call
your
lovers
from
the
stage
of
death
,
Whom
I
adopt
my
friends
.
A
day
or
two
Let
us
look
sadly
,
and
give
grace
unto
The
funeral
of
Arcite
,
in
whose
end
The
visages
of
bridegrooms
we’ll
put
on
And
smile
with
Palamon
—
for
whom
an
hour
,
But
one
hour
since
,
I
was
as
dearly
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
lack
We
laugh
,
for
what
we
have
are
sorry
,
still
Are
children
in
some
kind
.
Let
us
be
thankful
For
that
which
is
,
and
with
you
leave
dispute
That
are
above
our
question
.
Let’s
go
off
And
bear
us
like
the
time
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
EPILOGUE
Enter
Epilogue
.
I
would
now
ask
you
how
you
like
the
play
,
But
,
as
it
is
with
schoolboys
,
cannot
say
.
I
am
cruel
fearful
!
Pray
yet
,
stay
a
while
,
And
let
me
look
upon
you
.
No
man
smile
?
Then
it
goes
hard
,
I
see
.
He
that
has
Loved
a
young
handsome
wench
,
then
,
show
his
face
—
’Tis
strange
if
none
be
here
—
and
,
if
he
will
,
Against
his
conscience
let
him
hiss
and
kill
Our
market
.
’Tis
in
vain
,
I
see
,
to
stay
you
.
Have
at
the
worst
can
come
,
then
!
Now
what
say
you
?
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
you
—
For
to
that
honest
purpose
it
was
meant
you
—
We
have
our
end
;
and
you
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
.
Flourish
.
He
exits
.
all or part of a full metrical line
all or part of a prose speech
a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified asverse or prose
editorial emendation