The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  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?

  HERALD

  Wi’ leave, they’re called Arcite and Palamon.

  THESEUS

  ’Tis right: those, those. They are not dead?

  HERALD

  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.

  THESEUS

  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

  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. Exeunt

  1.5 Music. Enter the three Queens with the hearses of their lords in a funeral solemnity, with attendants

  Song

  Urns and odours, bring away,

  Vapours, sighs, darken the day;

  Our dole more deadly looks than dying.

  Balms and gums and heavy cheers,

  Sacred vials filled with tears,

  And clamours 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.

  THIRD QUEEN

  This funeral path brings to your household’s grave—

  Joy seize on you again, peace sleep with him.

  SECOND QUEEN

  And this to yours.

  FIRST QUEEN

  Yours this way. Heavens lend A thousand differing ways to one sure end.

  THIRD QUEEN

  This world’s a city full of straying streets,

  And death’s the market-place where each one meets.

  Exeunt severally

  2.1 Enter the Jailer and the Wooer

  JAILER 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.

  WOOER Sir, I demand no more than your own offer, and I will estate your daughter in what I have promised.

  JAILER Well, we will talk more of this when the solemnity is past. But have you a full promise of her?

  Enter the Jailer’s Daughter with rushes

  When that shall be seen, I tender my consent.

  WOOER I have, sir. Here she comes.

  JAILER (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’ mean time, look tenderly to the two prisoners. I can tell you they are princes.

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER 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.

  JAILER They are famed to be a pair of absolute men.

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER By my troth, I think fame but stammers ’em—they stand a grece above the reach of report.

  JAILER I heard them reported in the battle to be the only doers.

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER Nay, most likely, for they are noble sufferers. 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.

  JAILER Do they so?

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER 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 sometime 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.

  WOOER I never saw ’em.

  JAILER The Duke himself came privately in the night,Palamon and Arcite appear ⌈at a window⌉ above

  and so did they. What the reason of it is I know not. Look, yonder they are. That’s Arcite looks out.

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER No, sir, no—that’s Palamon. Arcite is the lower of the twain—(pointing at Arcite) you may perceive a part of him.

  JAILER Go to, leave your pointing. They would not make us their object. Out of their sight.

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER It is a holiday to look on them. Lord, the difference of men!

  Exeunt

  2.2 Enter Palamon and Arcite in prison, ⌈in shackles, above⌉

  PALAMON

  How do you, noble cousin?

  ARCITE How do you, sir?

  PALAMON

  Why, strong enough to laugh at misery

  And bear the chance of war. Yet we are prisoners,

  I fear, for ever, cousin.

  ARCITE

  I believe it, And to that destiny have patiently

  Laid up my hour to come.

  PALAMON

  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 honour,

  Hung with the painted favours 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 honour,

  Our arms again and feel our fiery horses

  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.

  ARCITE

  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.

  PALAMON

  ’Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds

  That shook the aged forest with their echoes,

  No more now must we holler; 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—

  Which is the curse of honour—lastly,

  Children of grief and ignorance.

  ARCITE

  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.

  PALAMON

  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.

  ARCITE

  Shall we make worthy uses of this place

  That all men hate so much?

  PALAMON How, gentle cousin?

  ARCITE

  Let’s think this prison holy sanctuary,

  To keep us from corruption of worse men.

  We are young, and yet desire the ways of honour

  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

  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.

  PALAMON

  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?

  ARCITE I would hear you still.

  PALAMON

  Ye shall. Is there record of any two that loved

  Better than we do, Arcite?

  ARCITE Sure there cannot.

  PALAMON

  I do not think it possible our friendship

  Should ever leave us.

  ARCITE Till our deaths it cannot,

  Enter Emilia and her Woman ⌈below⌉. Palamon sees Emilia and is silent

  And after death our spirits shall be led

  To those that love eternally. Speak on, sir.

  EMILIA (to her Woman)

  This garden has a world of pleasure in’t.

  What flower is this?

  WOMAN ’Tis called narcissus, madam.

  EMILIA

  That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool

  To love himself. Were there not maids enough?

  ARCITE (to Palamon)

  Pray forward.

  PALAMON Yes.

  EMILIA (to her Woman) Or were they all hard-hearted?

  WOMAN

  They could not be to one so fair.

  EMILIA Thou wouldst not.

  WOMAN

  I think I should not, madam.

  EMILIA

  That’s a good wench—But take heed to your kindness, though.

  WOMAN Why, madam?

  EMILIA

  Men are mad things.

  ARCITE (to Palamon) Will ye go forward, cousin?

  EMILIA (to her Woman)

  Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench?

  WOMAN Yes.

  EMILIA

  I’ll have a gown full of ’em, and of these.

  This is a pretty colour—will’t not do

  Rarely upon a skirt, wench?

  WOMAN Dainty, madam.

  ARCITE (to Palamon)

  Cousin, cousin, how do you, sir? Why, Palamon!

  PALAMON

  Never till now was I in prison, Arcite.

  ARCITE

  Why, what’s the matter, man?

  PALAMON Behold and wonder!

  Arcite sees Emilia

  By heaven, she is a goddess!

  ARCITE Ha!

  PALAMON

  Do reverence.

  She is a goddess, Arcite.

  EMILIA (to her Woman)

  Of all flowers

  Methinks a rose is best.

  WOMAN Why, gentle madam?

  EMILIA

  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.

  WOMAN

  Yet, good madam, Sometimes her modesty will blow so far

  She falls for’t—a maid,

  If she have any honour, would be loath

  To take example by her.

  EMILIA Thou art wanton.

  ARCITE (to Palamon)

  She is wondrous fair.

  PALAMON She is all the beauty extant.

  EMILIA (to her Woman)

  The sun grows high—let’s walk in. Keep these flowers.

  We’ll see how
close art can come near their colours.

  I am wondrous merry-hearted—I could laugh now.

  WOMAN

  I could lie down, I am sure.

  EMILIA And take one with you?

  WOMAN

  That’s as we bargain, madam.

  EMILIA Well, agree then.

  Exeunt Emilia and her Woman

  PALAMON

  What think you of this beauty?

  ARCITE ’Tis a rare one.

  PALAMON

  Is’t but a rare one?

  ARCITE Yes, a matchless beauty.

  PALAMON

  Might not a man well lose himself and love her?

  ARCITE

  I cannot tell what you have done; I have,

  Beshrew mine eyes for’t. Now I feel my shackles.

  PALAMON You love her then?

  ARCITE Who would not?

  PALAMON And desire her?

  ARCITE Before my liberty.

  PALAMON

  I saw her first.

  ARCITE

  That’s nothing.

  PALAMON

  But it shall be.

  ARCITE

  I saw her too.

  PALAMON

  Yes, but you must not love her.

  ARCITE

  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.

  PALAMON

  You shall not love at all.

  ARCITE

  Not love at all—who shall deny me?

  PALAMON

  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.

  ARCITE

  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 ye, farewell, Palamon!

  I say again,

  I love her, 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.

  PALAMON

  Have I called thee friend?

  ARCITE

  Yes, and have found me so. Why are you moved

  thus?

  Let me deal coldly with you. Am not I