University of Virginia Library

Actus Quartus.

Scæna Prima.

Enter Jailor and his freind.
Jail.
Hear you no more? was nothing said of me
Concerning the escape of Palamon?
Good Sir remember.

1 Fr.
Nothing that I heard,
For I came home before the business
Was fully ended: yet I might perceive
E'r I departed, a great likelyhood
Of both their pardons: for Hippolita,
And fair-ey'd Emilia, upon their knees,
Begg'd with such handsome pitty, 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 Perithous.
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.

Enter 2 Friends.
Jail.
Pray Heaven it hold so.

2 Fr.
Be of good comfort man; I bring you news
Good news.

Jail.
They are welcome,

2 Fr.
Palamon has clear'd you,
And got your pardon, and discover'd
How, and by whose means he scap'd, 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.

Jail.
Ye are a good man
And ever bring good news.

1 Fr.
How was it ended?

2 Fr.
Why, as it should be; they that ne'er begg'd
But they prevail'd, had their suits fairly granted.
The prisoners have their lives.

1 Fr.
I knew 'twould be so.

2 Fr.
But there be new conditions, which you'll hear of
At better time.

Jail.
I hope they are good.

2 Fr.
They are honourable,
How good they'll prove, I know not.

Enter Wooer.
1 Fr.
'Twill be known.

Woo.
Alas Sir, where's your Daughter?

Jail.
Why do you ask?

Woo.
Oh Sir, when did you see her?

2 Fr.
How he looks?

Jail.
This morning.

Woo.
Was she well? was she in health Sir? when did she sleep?

1 Fr.
These are strange questions.

Jail.
I do not think she was very well, for now
You make me mind her, but this very day
I ask'd her questions, and she answer'd 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:

Woo.
Nothing but my pity, but you must know it, and as good by me
As by another that less loves her:

Jail.
Well Sir.

1 Fr.
Not right?

2 Fr.
Not well?—

Woo.
No Sir, not well.

Woo.
'Tis too true, she is mad.

1 Fr.
It cannot be.

Woo.
Believe, you'll find it so.

Jay.
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.

Woo.
'Tis likely.

Jay.
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,
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 perceiv'd not
Who made the sound; the Rushes, and the Reeds
Had so encompast it: I laid me down
And listned to the words she sung, for then
Through a small glade cut by the Fisher-men,
I saw it was your Daughter.

Jail.
Pray goe on Sir?

Woo.
She sung much, but no sence; only I heard her
Repeat this often. Palamon is gone,
Is gone to th'wood to gather Mulberries,
I'll find him out to morrow.

1 Fr.
Pretty soul.

Woo.
His shackles will betray him, he'll be taken,
And what shall I do then? I'll bring a beavy,
A hundred black-ey'd Maids that love as I do
With Chaplets on their heads with Daffadillies,
With cherry lips, and cheeks of Damask Roses,
And all we'll dance an Antique 'fore the Duke,
And beg his pardon; then she talk'd of you, Sir;
That you must lose your head to morrow 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 sate; her careless Tresses,
A wreak of Bull-rush rounded; about her stuck
Thousand fresh Water Flowers of several colours.
That methought she appear'd like the fair Nymph
That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris
Newly dropt down from heaven; Rings she made
Of Rushes that grew by, and to 'em spoke
The prettiest posies: thus our true love's ty'd,
This you may loose, not me, and many a one:
And then she wept, and sung again, and sigh'd,
And with the same breath smil'd, and kist her hand.

2 Fr.
Alas what pity it is?

Woo.
I made into her,
She saw me, and straight sought the stood, I sav'd her,
And set her safe to land: when presently
She slipt 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 we staid,
And fell, scarce to be got away: I left them with her.
Enter Brother, Daughter, and others.
And hither came to tell you: Here they are.

Daugh.
May you never more enjoy the light, &c.
Is not this a fine Song?

Bro.
Oh, a very fine one.

Daugh.
I can sing twenty more.

Bro.
I think you can,

Daugh.
Yes truly can I, I can sing the Broom,
And Bonny Robbin. Are not you a Tailor?

Bro.
Yes.

Daugh.
Where's my wedding-Gown?

Bro.
I'll bring it to morrow.

Daugh.

Sings.
Bro.
You must ev'n take it patiently.

Jay.
'Tis true,

Daugh.
Good ev'n, good men, pray did you ever hear
Of one young Palamon?

Jay.
Yes wench, we know him.

Daugh.
Is't not a fine young Gentleman?

Jay.
'Tis Love.

Bro.
By no mean cross her, she is then distemper'd
For worse than now she shows.

1 Fr.
Yes, he's a fine man.

Daugh.
Oh, is he so? you have a Sister.

1 Fr.
Yes.

Daugh.
But she shall never have him, tell her so,
For a trick that I know, y' had 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?

1 Fr.
Yes.

Daugh.
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.

2 Fr.
This is strange.

Daugh.
As ever your heard, but say nothing.

1 Fr.
No.

Daugh.
They come from all parts of the Dukedom to him,
I'll warrant ye, he had not so few last night
As twenty, to dispatch, he'll tickle't up
In two hours, if his hand be in.

Jay.
She's lost
Past all cure.

Bro.
Heaven forbid man.

Daug.
Come hither, you are a wise man.

1 Fr.
Does she know him?

2. Fr.
No, would she did.

Daugh.
You are master of a Ship?

Jay.
Yes.

Daugh.
Where's your Compass?

Jay.
Here.

Daugh.
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.

All.
Owgh, owgh, owgh, 'tis up, the wind's fair, top the
Bowling; out with the main sail, where's your
Whistle Master?

Bro.
Let's get her in.

Jay.
Up to the top Boy.

Bro.
Where's the Pilot?

1 Fr.
Here.

Daugh.
What ken'st thou?

3 Fr.
A fair wood.

Daugh.
Bear for it master: tack about:
Sings.
When Cinthia with her borrowed light, &c.

Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Emilia alone, with two Pictures.
Emil.
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: Good Heaven;
What a sweet face has Arcite, if wise nature
With all her best endowments, all those beauties
She shews 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 Ganimead,
Set Love a fire with, and enforc'd the god
Snatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by him
A shining constellation: what a brow,
Of what a spacious Majesty lie carries?
Arch'd like the great ey'd 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. Palamon,
Is but his foil, to him, a mere dull shadow,
He's swarth, and meagre, of an eye as heavy
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:
Oh who can find the bent of womans fancy?
I'm a fool, my reason is lost in me,
I have no choice, and I have ly'd so lewdly
That Women ought to beat me. On my knees
I ask thy pardon: Palamon, thou art alone,
And only beautiful, and these thy 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? Oh Love, this only
From this hour is complexion: lye there Arcite,
Thou art a changling to him, a mere Gipsie.
And this the noble Bodie: I am sotted,
Utterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me.
For if my Brother, but even now had ask'd me
Whether I lov'd, 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 Fancie,
That having two fair gawds of equal sweetness,
Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both.

Enter Emil. and Gent.
Emil.
How now Sir?

Gent.
From the Noble Duke your Brother
Madam, I bring you news: the Knights are come.

Emil.
To end the quarrel?

Gent.
Yes:

Emil.
Would I might end first:
What sins have I committed, chaste Diana,
That my unspotted youth must now be soil'd
With blond 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, Hippolita, Perithous, and Attendants
Thes.
Bring 'em in quickly,
By any means I long to see 'em.
Your two contending Lovers are return'd,
And with them their fair Knights: Now my fair Sister,
You must love one of them.

Emil.
I had rather both,
So neither for my sake should fall untimely.

Enter Messenger. Curtis
Thes.
Who saw 'em?

Per.
I a while.

Gent.
And I.

Thes.
From whence come you, Sir?

Mess.
From the Knights.

Thes.
Pray speak
You that have seen them, what they are.

Mess.
I will Sir,
And truly what I think: six braver spirits
Than those they have brought, (if we judge by the outside)
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 shews him hardy, fearless, proud of dangers:
The circles of his eyes, shew fair 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,
Arm'd long and round, and on his Thigh a Sword
Hung by a curious Bauldrick: when he frowns
To seal his Will with, better o' my conscience
Was never Soldiers friend.

Thes.
Thou hast well describ'd him.

Per.
Yet, a great deal short
Methinks, of him that's first with Palamon.

Thes.
Pray speak him friend.

Per.
I ghess 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 setled valour
(Not tainted with extreams) runs through his body,
And guides his arm to brave things: Fear he cannot,
He shews no such soft temper, his head's yellow,
Hard hait'd, and curl'd, thick twin'd, like Ivy tops,
Nor to undoe with thunder; in his face
The Livery of the warlike Maid appears,
Pure red and white, for yet no beard has blest him.
And in his rowling eyes sits victory,
As if she ever meant to correct his valour:
His Nose stands high, a Character of honor,
His red Lips, after sights, are sit for Ladies.

Emil.
Must these men die too?

Per.
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-steel'd Axe, the staffe of Gold,
His age some five and twenty.

Mess.
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 look'd on.

Per.
Oh he that's freckle fac'd?

Mess.
The same my Lord,
Are they not sweet ones?

Per.
Yes, they are well.

Mess.
Methinks.
Being so few, and well dispos'd, they shew
Great, and fine Art in nature, he's white hair'd,
Not wanton white, but such a manly colour
Next to an aborn, tough, and nimble set,
Which shows an active soul: his arms are brawny
Lin'd with strong sinews: to the shoulder-piece,
Gently they swell, like Women new conceiv'd,
Which speaks him prone to labour, never fainting
Under the weight of Arms, stout-hearted still,
But when he stirs, a Tiger; he's grey ey'd,
Which yields compassion where he conquers: sharp
To spie advantages, and where he finds 'em,
He's swift to make 'em his: He does no wrongs,
Nor takes none; he's round fac'd, and when he smiles
He shows a Lover, when he frowns, a Soldier:
About his head he wears the winners oak,
And in it stuck the favour of his Lady:
His age, some six and thirty. In his hand
He bears a Charging Staffe, emboss'd with Silver

Thes.
Are they all thus?

Per.
They are all the sons of honor.

Thes.
Now as I have a soul, I long to see 'em,
Lady, you shall see men sight now.

Hip.
I wish it,
But not the cause my Lord; They would shew
Bravely about the Titles of two Kingdoms;
'Tis pity Love should be so tyrannous:
Oh my soft-hearted Sister, what think you?
Weep not, till they weep bloud: Wench it must be.

Thes.
You have steel'd 'em with your Beauty: honor'd friend
To you I give the Field; pray order it,
Fitting the persons that must use it.

Per.
Yes Sir.

Thes.
Come, I'll go visit 'em: I cannot stay,
Their fame has fir'd me so; till they appear,
Good friend be royal.

Per.
There shall want no bravery.

Emil.
Poor wench go weep, for whosoever wins,
Looses a noble Cosin, for thy sins.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Jailor, Wooer, Doctor.
Doct.
Her distraction is more at some time of the Moon,
Than at other some, is it not?

Jay.
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 so e'er she's about, the name
Palamon lards it, that she farces ev'ry business.
Enter Daughter.
Withal, sits it to every question; Look where
She comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.

Daugh.
I have forgot it quite; the burden on't was Down
A down a: and penn'd by no worse man, than
Giraldo, Emilias Schoolmaster; he's as
Fantastical too, as ever he may goe upon's legs,
For in the next world will Dido see Palamon, and
Then will she be out of love with Æneas.

Doct.
What stuff's here? poor soul.

Jay.
Ev'n thus all day long.

Daugh.
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, as there's a sight now; we Maids
That have our Livers, perisht, crackt 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.

Doct.
How prettily she's amiss? note her a little farther.

Dan.
Faith I'll tell you, sometime we goe to Barly-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, oh they have shrowd
Measure, take heed; if one be mad, or hang, or
Drown themselves, thither they goe, Jupiter bless
Us, and there shall we be put in a Cauldron of
Lead, and Usurers grease, amongst a whole million of
Cut-purses, and there boil like a Gamon of Bacon
That will never be enough.

Exit.
Doct.
How her brain coins?

Daugh.

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 Tristle believe
me one would marry a leprous witch, to be rid on't
I'll assure you.

Doct.

How she continues this fancie? 'Tis not an engraffed
madness but a most thick, and profound melancholly.

Daugh.

To hear there a proud Lady, and a proud City
wife, howl together I were a beast, and Il'd call it good
sport: one cries, oh this smoak, another this fire; one cries
oh that I ever did it behind the Arras, and then howls;
th'other curses a suing fellow and her Garden-house.

Sings.
Exit Daugh.

Jay.
What think you of her, Sir?

Doct.
I think she has a perturbed mind, which I cannot minister to.

Jay.
Alas, what then?

Doct.
Understand you, she ever affected any man, e'r
She beheld Palamon?

Jay.
I was once, Sir, in great hope she had fix'd her
Liking on this Gentleman my friend.

Woo.
I did think so too, and would account I had a great
Pen'worth on't, to give half my state, that both
She and I at this present stood unfainedly on the
Same terms.

Doct.
That intemperate surfet of her eye, hath distemper'd the
Other sences, they may return and settle again to
Execute their preordained faculties, but they are
Now in a most extravagant vagary. This you
Must doe, 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 mistriss 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 favour: learn what Maids have been her
Companions, and Play-pheers; and let them repair to
Her with Palamon in their mouths, and appear with
Tokens, as if they suggested for him, it is a falshood
She is in, which is with falshoods 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 make the number more, I have
Great hope in this, I will between the passages of
This project, come in with my applyance: Let us
Put it in execution; and hasten the success, which doubt not
Will bring forth comfort.

Florish. Exeunt.