For all my hopes. My cause and honour guard me.
Arc. And me, my love.
They bow several ways, then advance and stand
Is there aught else to say?
Pal. This only, and no more. Thou art mine aunt’s son,
And that blood we desire to shed is mutual: 95
In me, thine, and in thee, mine. My sword
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 honour,
I wish his weary soul that falls may win it. 100
Fight bravely, cousin. Give me thy noble hand.
Arc. Here, Palamon. This hand shall never more
Come near thee with such friendship.
Pal. I commend thee.
Arc. If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward —
For none but such dare die in these just trials. 105
Once more farewell, my cousin.
Pal. Farewell, Arcite.
Fight. Horns within; they stand
Arc. Lo, cousin, lo, our folly has undone us.
Pal. Why?
Arc. This is the Duke a-hunting, as I told you.
If we be found, we are wretched. O, retire,
For honour’s sake, and safely, presently, 110
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, 116
But base disposers of it.
Pal. 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 — 120
He that faints now, shame take him! Put thyself
Upon thy present guard —
Arc. You are not mad?
Pal. 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, 125
I love Emilia, and in that I’ll bury
Thee and all crosses else.
Arc. 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 honour of our ends. 130
Have at thy life!
Pal. Look to thine own well, Arcite!
They fight again. Horns. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous, and train.
The. 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? 135
By Castor, both shall die.
Pal. 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; 140
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, 145
That fortunate bright star, the fair Emilia,
Whose servant — if there be a right in seeing
And first bequeathing of the soul to — justly
I am; and, which is more, dares think her his.
This treachery, like a most trusty lover, 150
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. 155
Then take my life — I’ll woo thee to’t.
Pir. O heaven,
What more than man is this!
The. I have sworn.
Arc. 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, 160
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, 165
As I dare kill this cousin that denies it,
So let me be most traitor and ye 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’, 170
I am a villain fit to lie unburied.
Pal. 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, 175
Whose twelve strong labours 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.
The. I grant your wish; for to say true, your cousin 180
Has ten times more offended, for I gave him
More mercy than you found, sir, your offences
Being no more than his. None here speak for ’em,
For ere the sun set both shall sleep for ever.
Hipp. (to Emilia)
Alas, the pity! Now or never, sister, 185
Speak, not to be denied. That face of yours
Will bear the curses else of after ages
For these lost cousins.
Emi. In my face, dear sister,
I find no anger to’ em, nor no ruin.
The misadventure of their own eyes kill ’em. 190
Yet that I will be woman and have pity,
[She kneels]
My knees shall grow to th’ ground, but I’ll get mercy.
Help me, dear sister — in a deed so virtuous
The powers of all women will be with us.
Hippolyta kneels
Most royal brother —
Hipp. Sir, by our tie of marriage — 195
Emi. By your own spotless honour —
Hipp. By that faith,
That fair hand, and that honest heart you gave me —
Emi. By that you would have pity in another,
By your own virtues infinite —
Hipp. By valour,
By all the chaste nights I have ever pleased you — 200
The. These are strange conjurings.
Pir. Nay, then, I’ll in too.
[He kneelsl
By all our friendship, sir, by all our dangers,
By all you love most: wars, and this sweet lady —
Emi. By that you would have trembled to deny
A blushing maid —
Hipp. By your own eyes, by strength —
In which you swore I went beyond all women, 206
Almost all men — and yet I yielded, Theseus —
Pir. To crown all this, by your most noble soul,
Which cannot want due mercy, I beg first —
Hipp.
Next hear my prayers —
Emi. Last let me entreat, sir — 210
Pir. For mercy.
Hipp. Mercy.
Emi. Mercy on these princes.
The. Ye make my faith reel. Say I felt
Compassion to ’em both, how would you, place it?
[They arise]
Emi. Upon their
lives — but with their banishments.
The. You are a right woman, sister: you have pity, 215
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 220
They’d fight about you, hourly bring your honour
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.
Better they fall by th’ law than one another. 225
Bow not my honour.
Emi. 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.
Beside, I have another oath ‘gainst yours, 230
Of more authority, I am sure more love —
Not made in passion, neither, but good heed.
The. What is it, sister?
Pir. (to Emilia) Urge it home, brave lady.
Emi. That you would ne’er deny me anything
Fit for my modest suit and your free granting. 235
I tie you to your word now; if ye fail in’t,
Think how you maim your honour —
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. 240
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, 245
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. 250
For heaven’s sake, save their lives and banish ’em.
The. On what conditions?
Emi. Swear’ em never more
To make me their contention, or to know me,
To tread upon thy dukedom; and to be,
Wherever they shall travel, ever strangers 255
To one another.
Pal. I’ll be cut a-pieces
Before I take this oath — forget I love her?
O all ye gods, despise me, then. Thy banishment
I not mislike, so we may fairly carry
Our swords and cause along — else, never trifle, 260
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 has.
The. Will you, Arcite,
Take these conditions?
Pal. He’s a villain then.
Pir. These are men!
Arc. No, never, Duke. ’Tis worse to me than begging, 265
To take my life so basely. Though I think
I never shall enjoy her, yet I’ll preserve
The honour of affection and die for her,
Make death a devil.
The. What may be done? For now I feel compassion. 270
Pir. Let it not fall again, sir.
The. Say, Emilia,
If one of them were dead — as one must — are you
Content to take the other to your husband?
They cannot both enjoy you. They are princes
As goodly as your own eyes, and as noble 275
As ever fame yet spoke of. Look upon ’em,
And if you can love, end this difference.
I give consent. (To Palamon and Arcite) Are you content too, princes?
Pal. and ARCITE
With all our souls.
The. He that she refuses
Must die, then.
Pal. and ARCITE
Any death thou canst invent, Duke. 280
Pal. If I fall from that mouth, I fall with favour,
And lovers yet unborn shall bless my ashes.
Arc. If she refuse me, yet my grave will wed me,
And soldiers sing my epitaph.
The. (to Emilia) Make choice, then.
Emi. I cannot, sir. They are both too excellent. 285
For me, a hair shall never fall of these men.
Hipp. [to Theseus]
What will become of’ em?
The. Thus I ordain it,
And by mine honour once again it stands,
Or both shall die. (To Palamon and Arcite) You shall both to your country,
And each within this month, accompanied 290
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, 295
And all his friends; nor shall he grudge to fall,
Nor think he dies with interest in this lady.
Will this content ye?
Pal. Yes. Here, cousin Arcite,
I am friends again till that hour.
Arc. I embrace ye.
The. (to Emilia)
Are you content, sister?
Emi. Yes, I must, sir, 300
Else both miscarry.
The. (to Palamon and Arcite)
Come, shake hands again, then,
And take heed, as you are gentlemen, this quarrel
Sleep till the hour prefixed, and hold your course.
Pal. We dare not fail thee, Theseus.
The. Come, I’ll give ye
Now usage like to princes and to friends. 305
When ye return, who wins I’ll settle here,
Who loses, yet I’ll weep upon his bier.
Exeunt
Act IV. Scene I.
ENTER THE JAILER and his Friend
Jai. Hear you no more? Was nothing said of me
Concerning the escape of Palamon?
Good sir, remember.
Fri. Nothing that I heard,
For I came home before the business
Was fully ended. Yet I might perceive, 5
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 10
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 15
Of your name or his scape.
Enter the Second Friend
Jai. Pray heaven it hold so.
Sec. Fri. Be of good comfort, man. I bring you news,
Good news.
Jai. They are welcome.
Sec. Fri. Palamon has cleared you,
And got your pardon, and discovered how
And by whose means he scaped — which was your daughter’s, 20
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.
Jai. Ye are a good man,
And ever bring good news.
Fir. Fri. How was it ended? 25
Sec. Fri.
Why, as it should be: they that ne’er begged,
But they prevailed, had their suits fairly granted —
The prisoners have their lives.
Fir. Fri. I knew ’twould be so.
Sec. Fri. But there be new conditions which you’ll hear of 29
At better time.
Jai. I hope they are good.
Sec. Fri. They are honourable —
How good they’ll prove I know not.
Enter the Wooer
Fir. Fri. ‘Twill be known.
Woo. Alas, sir, where’s your daughter?
Jai. Why do you ask?
Woo. O, sir, when did you see her?
Sec. Fri. How he looks!
Jai. This morning. 35
Woo. Was she well? Was she in health?
Sir, when did she sleep?
Fir. Fri. These are strange questions.
Jai. 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, 40
An innocent — and I was very angry.
But what of her, sir?
Woo. Nothing, but my pity —
But you must know it, and as good by me
As by another that less loves her —
Jai. Well, sir?
Fir. Fri. Not right?
Woo. No, sir, not well.
Sec. Fri. Not well? 45
Woo. ’Tis too true — she is mad.
Fir. Fri. It cannot be.
Woo. Believe, you’ll find it so.
Jai. 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, 50
Or both.
Woo. ’Tis likely.
Jai. But why all this haste, sir?
Woo. I’ll tell you quickly. As I late was angling
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, 55
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 60
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.
Jai. Pray go on, sir. 65
Woo. 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 And him out tomorrow.’
Fir. Fri. Pretty soul!
Woo. ‘His shackles will betray him — he’ll be taken, 70
And what shall I do then? I’ll bring a bevy,
A hundred black-eyed maids that love as I do,
Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 398
