Was then of me approved; what not, condemned — 65
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, 70
They died in perfume. On my head no toy
But was her pattern. Her affections — pretty,
Though happily her careless wear — I followed
For my most serious decking. Had mine ear
Stol’n some new air, or at adventure hummed one, 75
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, seely innocence wots well, comes in
Like old emportment’s bastard — has this end: 80
That the true love ‘tween maid and maid may be
More than in sex dividual.
Hipp. 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.
Emi. I am sure I shall not.
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 90
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 95
That we more than his Pirithous possess
The high throne in his heart.
Emi. I am not
Against your faith, yet I continue mine. Exeunt
Act I. Scene IV.
Trumpets. A battle struck within. Then a retreat sounded. Enter Theseus, victor. The three Queens meet him and fall before him. Enter a Herald, and attendants bearing
Palamon and Arcite on two hearses]
Fir. Que.. (to Theseus)
To thee no star be dark.
Sec. Que.. (to Theseus) Both heaven and earth
Friend thee for ever.
Thi. Que.. (to Theseus) All the good that may
Be wished upon thy head, I cry ‘Amen’ to’t.
The. Th’impartial gods, who from the mounted heavens
View us their mortal herd, behold who err 5
And in their time chastise. Go and find out
The bones of your dead lords and honour them
With treble ceremony: rather than a gap
Should be in their dear rites we would supply’t.
But those we will depute which shall invest 10
You in your dignities, and even each thing
Our haste does leave imperfect. So adieu,
And heaven’s good eyes look on you.
Exeunt the Queens
What are those?
Her. Men of great quality, as may be judged
By their appointment. Some of Thebes have told’s 15
They are sisters’ children, nephews to the King.
The. 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 20
Worth a god’s view. What prisoner was’t that told me
When I enquired their names?
Her. Wi’ leave, they’re called Arcite and Palamon.
The. ’Tis right: those, those.
They are not dead?
Her. Nor in a state of life. Had they been taken 25
When their last hurts were given,’ twas possible
They might have been recovered. Yet they breathe,
And have the name of men.
The. Then like men use ’em.
The very lees of such, millions of rates
Exceed the wine of others. All our surgeons 30
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; 35
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, 40
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 45
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
Act I. Scene V.
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, 5
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. 10
Thi. Que..
This funeral path brings to your household’s grave —
Joy seize on you again, peace sleep with him.
Sec. Que..
And this to yours.
Fir. Que.. Yours this way. Heavens lend
A thousand differing ways to one sure end.
Thi. Que..
This world’s a city full of straying streets, 15
And death’s the market-place where each one meets.
Exeunt severally
Act II. Scene I.
ENTER THE JAILER and the Wooer
Jai. 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. 10
Woo. Sir, I demand no more than your own offer, and
I will estate your daughter in what I have promised.
Jai. 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.
Woo. I have, sir. Here she comes. 15
Jai. (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. 20
Jai. Dau. 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. 25
Jai. They are famed to be a pair of absolute men.
Jai. Dau. By my troth, I think fame but
stam- mers ’em — they stand a grece above the reach of report.
Jai. I heard them reported in the battle to be the only doers. 30
Jai. Dau. 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. 35
Jai. Do they so?
Jai. Dau. 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. 45
Woo. I never saw ’em.
Jai. The Duke himself came privately in the night,
Palamon and Arcite appear in the window above and so did they. What the reason of it is I know not.
Look, yonder they are. That’s Arcite looks out. 50
Jai. Dau. No, sir, no — that’s Palamon. Arcite is the lower of the twain — (pointing at Arcite) you may perceive a part of him.
Jai. Go to, leave your pointing. They would not make us their object. Out of their sight. 55
Jai. Dau. It is a holiday to look on them. Lord, the difference of men! Exeunt
Act II. Scene II.
ENTER PALAMON AND Arcite in prison, [in chains above]
Pal. How do you, noble cousin?
Arc. How do you, sir?
Pal. Why, strong enough to laugh at misery
And bear the chance of war. Yet we are prisoners,
I fear, for ever, cousin.
Arc. I believe it,
And to that destiny have patiently 5
Laid up my hour to come.
Pal. 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, 10
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, 15
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 — 20
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.
Arc. No, Palamon, 25
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 30
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, 35
‘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. 40
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. 45
Pal. ’Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds
That shook the agèd 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, 50
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.
Arc. Yet, cousin, 55
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. 60
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish
If I think this our prison.
Pal. 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 65
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.
Arc. Shall we make worthy uses of this place
That all men hate so much?
Pal. How, gentle cousin? 70
Arc. 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, 75
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 80
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, 85
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 90
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.
Pal. YOU have made me — 95
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 100
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, 105
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. 110
Shall I say more?
Arc. I would hear you still.
Pal. Ye shall.
Is there record of any two that loved
Better than we do, Arcite?
Arc. Sure there cannot.
Pal. I do not think it possible our friendship
Should ever leave us.
Arc. Till our deaths it cannot, 115
Enter Emilia and her Woman. Palamon sees
Emilia and is silent
And after death our spirits shall be led
To those that love eternally. Speak on, sir.
Emi. (to her Woman)
This garden has a world of pleasure in’t.
What flower is this?
Wom. ’Tis called narcissus, madam.
Emi. That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool 120
To love himself. Were there not maids enough?
Arc. (to Palamon)
Pray forward.
Pal. Yes.
Emi. (to her Woman) Or were they all hard-hearted?
Wom. They could not be to one so fair.
Emi. Thou wouldst not.
Wom. I think I should not, madam.
Emi. That’s a good wench —
But take heed to your kindness, though.
Wom. Why, madam?
Emi. Men are mad things.
Arc. (to Palamon) Will ye go forward, cousin? 125
Emi. (to her Woman)
Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench?
Wom. Yes.
Emi. 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?
Wom. Dainty, madam. 130
Arc. (to Palamon)
Cousin, cousin, how do you, sir? Why, Palamon!
Pal. Never till now was I in prison, Arcite.
Arc. Why, what’s the matter, man?
Pal. Behold and wonder!
Arcite sees Emilia
By heaven, she is a goddess!
Arc. Ha!
Pal. DO reverence.
She is a goddess, Arcite.
Emi. (to her Woman) Of all flowers 135
Methinks a rose is best.
Wom. Why, gentle madam?
Emi. 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, 140
Rude and impatient, then, like chastity,
She locks her beauties in her bud again,
And leaves him to base briers.
Wom. Yet, good madam,
Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 394
