(To Emilia) Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a
servant
That, if I were a woman, would be master.
But you are wise.
EMILIA
I hope too wise for that, sir.
Flourish. Exeunt
2.6 Enter the jailer’s Daughter
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
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.
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 patch 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.
Exit
3.1 A bush in place.⌉ Cornetts in sundry places. Noise and hollering as of people a-Maying. Enter Arcite
ARCITE
The Duke has lost Hippo)yta—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’enamelled 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
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
PALAMON
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 honour
That e’er bore gentle token, falsest cousin
That ever blood made kin—call’st thou her thine?
I’ll prove it in my shackles, with these hands,
Void of appointment, that thou liest and art
A very thief in love, a chaffy lord
Not worth the name of villain. Had I as word
And these house-clogs away—
ARCITE
Dear cousin Palamon—
PALAMON
Cozener Arcite, give me language such
As thou hast showed me feat.
ARCITE
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,
Cannot to me be kind. Honour 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.
PALAMON
That thou durst, Arcite!
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.
PALAMON
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.
ARCITE
Kinsman, you might as well Speak this and act it in your glass as to
His ear which now disdains you.
PALAMON
Come up to me, Quit me of these cold gyves, give me a sword,
Though it be rusty, and the charity
Of one meal lend me. Come before me then,
A good sword in thy hand, and do but say
That Emily is thine-I will forgive
The trespass thou hast done me, yea, my life,
If then thou carry’t; and brave souls in shades
That have died manly, which will seek of me
Some news from earth, they shall get none but this—
That thou art brave and noble.
ARCITE
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 sm
ell o’th’ prison. After,
When you shall stretch yourself and say but ’Arcite,
I am in plight’, there shall be at your choice
Both sword and armour.
PALAMON
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.
ARCITE Sweet Palamon.
PALAMON
I do embrace you and your offer—for
Your offer do’t I only, sir; your person,
Without hypocrisy, I may not wishWind horns within
More than my sword’s edge on’t.
ARCITE
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.
PALAMON
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.
ARCITE
Plainly spoken, Yet—pardon me—hard language: when I spur
Wind horns within
My horse I chide him not. Content and anger
In me have but one face. Hark, sir, they call
The scattered to the banquet. You must guess
I have an office there.
PALAMON
Sir, your attendance Cannot please heaven, and I know your office
Unjustly is achieved.
ARCITE
’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.
PALAMON
But this one word: You are going now to gaze upon my mistress—
For note you, mine she is—
ARCITE Nay then—
PALAMON
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 it till
I may enforce my remedy. Farewell.
Exeunt severally, ⌈Palamon as into the bush⌉
3.2 Enter the Jailer’s Daughter, with a file
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
He has mistook the brake I meant, is gone
After his fancy. ’Tis now wellnigh morning.
No matter—would it were perpetual night,
And darkness lord o’th’ world. Hark, ’tis a wolf!
In me hath grief slain fear, and, but for one thing,
I care for nothing—and that’s Palamon.
I reck not if the wolves would jaw me, so
He had this file. What if I hollered for him?
I cannot holler. 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 jangling 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.
Exit
3.3 Enter Arcite with a bundle containing meat, wine, and files
ARCITE
I should be near the place. Ho, cousin Patamon!
Enter Palamon ⌈as from the bush⌉
PALAMON
Arcite.
ARCITE
The same. I have brought you food and files. Come forth and fear not, here’s no Theseus.
PALAMON
Nor none so honest, Arcite.
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.
PALAMON
Arcite, thou mightst now poison me.
ARCITE
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, sir.
PALAMON
Do.
⌈Arcite drinks⌉
ARCITE Pray sit down, then, and let me entreat you, By all the honesty and honour in you, No mention of this woman—’twilt disturb us. We shall have time enough.
PALAMON
Well, sir, I’ll pledge you.
Palamon drinks
ARCITE
Drink a good hearty draught; it breeds good blood,
man.
Do not you feel it thaw you?
PALAMON
Stay, I’ll tell you
After a draught or two more.
Palamon drinks
ARCITE
Spare it not—
The Duke has more, coz. Eat now.
PALAMON
Yes.
Palamon eats
ARCITE
I am glad
You have so good a stomach.
PALAMON
I am gladder
I have so good meat to’t.
ARCITE
Is’t not mad, lodging Here in the wild woods, cousin?
PALAMON
Yes, for them
That have wild consciences.
ARCITE
How tastes your victuals?
Your hunger needs no sauce, I see.
PALAMON
Not much.
But if it did, yours is too tart, sweet cousin.
What is this?
ARCITE Venison.
PALAMON
’Tis a lusty meat—
Give me more wine. Here, Arcite, to the wenches
We have known in our days. ⌈Drinking⌉ The lord
steward’s daughter.
Do you remember her?
ARCITE
After you, coz.
PALAMON
She loved a black-haired man.
ARCITE
She did so; well, sir.
PALAMON
And I have heard some call him Arcite, and—
ARCITE
Out with’t, faith.
PALAMON
She met him in an arbour—
What did she there, coz? Play o’th’ virginals?
ARCITE
Something she did, sir—
; PALAMON
Made her groan a month for’t—
Or two, or three, or ten.
ARCITE
The marshal’s sister Had her share too, as I remember, cousin,
Else there be tales abroad. You’ll pledge her?
PALAMON Yes.
⌈They drink⌉
ARCITE
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!
PALAMON
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?
ARCITE
You are wide.
PALAMON
By heaven and earth,
There’s nothing in thee honest.
ARCITE
Then I’ll leave you—
You are a beast now.
PALAMON As thou mak’st me, traitor.
ARCITE (pointing to the bundle)
There’s all things needful: files and shirts and
perfumes—
I’ll come again some two hours hence and bring
That that shall quiet all.
PALAMON A sword and armour.
ARCITE
Fear me not. You are now too foul. Farewell.
Get off your trinkets: you shall want naught.
PALAMON Sirrah—
ARCITE
I’ll hear no more.
Exit
PALAMON
If he keep touch, he dies for’t.
Exit ⌈as into the bush⌉
3.4 Enter the Jailer’s Daughter
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
I am very cold, and all the stars are out too,
The little stars and all, that look like agtets—
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 cockle-shell, and sail
By east and north-east to the King of Pygmies,
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 415
