University of Virginia Library

Scæna Prima.

Enter Thesius, Perithous, Hippolita, Attendants.
Thes.
Now let 'em enter, and before the gods
Tender their holy Prayers: Let the Temples
Burn bright with sacred fires, and the Altars
In hallowed clouds commend their swelling Incense
To those above us: Let no due be wanting,
Florish of Cornets.
They have a noble work in hand, will honor
The very powers that love 'em.

Enter Palamon and Arcite, and their Knights.
Per.
Sir, they enter.

Thes.
You valiant and strong-hearted enemies
You royal German foes, that this day come
To blow that nearness out, that flames between ye;
Lay by your anger for an hour, and Dove like
Before the holy Altars of your helpers
(The all-fear'd gods) bow down your stubborn bodies,
Your Ire is more than mortal; So your help be,
And as the gods regard ye, fight with Justice,
I'll leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye
I part my wishes.

Per.
Honor crown the worthiest.

Exit Theseus and his train.
Pal.
The glass is running now that cannot finish
Till one of us expire: think you but thus,
That were there ought in me which strove to shew
Mine enemy in this business, were't one eye
Against another: Arm opprest by Arm:
I would destroy th'offender, Coz. I would
Though parcel of my self: then from this gather
How I should tender you.

Arc.
I am in labour
To push your name, your antient love, our kindred
Out of my memory; and i'th' self-same place
To seat something I would confound: so hoist we
The sails, that must these vessels port, even where
The heavenly Lymiter pleases.

Pal.
You speak well;
Before I turn, let me embrace thee Cosin
This I shall never do agen.

Arc.
One farewel.

Pal.
Why let it be so: Farewel Coz.

Exeunt Palamon and his Knights.
Arc.
They kneel.
Here they fall on their faces as formerly, and there is heard clanging of Armor, with a short Thunder, as the burst of a battel, whereupon they all rise, and bow to the Altar.

Exeunt.
Enter Palamon and his Knights, with the former observance.
Pal.
Our Stars must glister with new fire, or be
Today extinct; our argument is love,
Which if the goddess of it grant, she gives
Victory too, then blend your spirits with mine,
You, whose free nobleness do make my cause
Your personal hazard; to the goddess Venus
Commend we our proceeding, and implore
Her power unto our partie.
Here they kneel as formerly.
Hail Sovereign Queen of secrets, who hast power
To call the fiercest Tyrant from his rage;
And weep unto a Girl; that hast the might
Even with an eye-glance, to choak Marsis Drum
And turn th'allarm to whispers, that canst make
A Cripple florish with his Crutch, and cure him
Before Apollo; that may'st force the King
To be his subjects vassal, and induce
Stale gravity to the pould Batchelor
Whose youth like wanton boys through Bonfires
Have skipt thy flame, at seventy, thou canst catch
And make him to the scorn of his hoarse throat
Abuse young lays of Love; what godlike power
Hast thou not power upon? To Phæbus thou
Add'st flames, hotter than his the heavenly fires
Did scorch his mortal Son, thine him; the huntress
All moist and cold, some say, began to throw
Her Bow away, and sigh: take to thy grace
Me thy vow'd Soldier, who do bear thy yoak
As 'twere a wreath of Roses, yet is heavier
Than Lead it self, stings more than Nettles;
I have never been foul-mouth'd against thy Law,
Ne'er reveal'd secret, for I knew none; would not
Had I ken'd all that were; I never practis'd
Upon mans wife, nor would the Libels read
Of liberal wits: I never at great feasts
Sought to betray a beauty, but have blush'd
At simpring Sirs that did: I have been harsh
To large Confessors, and have hotly ask'd 'em
If they had Mothers, I had one, a woman,
And women 'twere they wrong'd. I knew a man
Of eighty winters, this I told them, who
A Lass of fourteen brided, 'twas thy power
To put life into dust, the aged Cramp
Had screw'd his square foot round,
The Gout had knit his fingers into knots,
Torturing Convulsions from his globy eies,
Had almost drawn their spheres, that what was life
In him seem'd torture: this Anatomie
Had by his young fair Sphere a Boy, and I
Believ'd it was his, for she swore it was,
And who would not believe her? brief I am
To those that prate, and have done; no Companion
To those that boast and have not; a defyer
To those that would and cannot; a Rejoycer,
Yea him I do not love, that tells close offices
The foulest way, nor names concealments in
The boldest language, such a one I am,
And vow that lover never yet made sigh
Truer than I. Oh then most soft sweet goddess
Give me the victory of this question, which
Is true loves merit, and bless me with a sign
Of thy great pleasure.

Here Musick is heard, Doves are seen to flutter, they fall again upon their faces, then on their knees.
Pal.
Oh thou that from eleven to ninety reign'st
In mortal bosoms, whose Chase is this world
And we in Herds thy Game, I give thee thanks
For this fair Token which being laid unto
Mine innocent true heart, arms in assurance
They bow.
My body to this business; Let us rise
And bow before the goddess: Time comes on.

Exeunt. Still Musick of Records.
Enter Emilia in white, her hair about her shoulders, a wheaten wreath: One in white, holding up her train, her hair stuck with Flowers: One before her carrying a silver Hynd, in which is conveyed Incense and sweet odors, which being set upon the Altar, her Maids standing aloof, she sets fire to it, then they curt'sy and kneels.
Emil.
Oh sacred, shadowy, cold and constant Queen,
Abandoner of Revels, mute contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As wind-san'd Snow, who to thy femal Knights
Allow'st no more blood than will make a blush,
Which is their Orders Robe. I here thy Priest
Am humbled for thine Altar, oh vouchsafe
With that thy rare green eye, which never yet
Beheld thing maculate, look on thy Virgin,
And sacred silver Mistris, lend thine ear
(Which ne'r heard scurril term, into whose port
Ne'er entred wanton sound,) to my petition
Season'd with holy fear; this is my last
Of vestal office, I'm Bride-habited,
But Maiden-hearted: a Husband I have pointed,
But do not know him, out of two, I should
Choose one, and pray, for his success, but I
Am guiltless of election of mine eyes,
Were I to lose one, they are equal precious,
I could doome neither, that which perish'd should
Goe to't unsentenc'd: Therefore most modest Queen,
He of the two Pretenders, that best loves me
And has the truest Title in't, let him,
Take off my wheaten Garland, or else grant
The file and quality I hold, I may
Continue in thy Band.
Here the Hind vanishes under the Altar and in the place ascends a Rose-Tree, having one Rose upon it.
See what our General of Ebbs and Flows
Out from the bowels of her holy Altar
With sacred Act advances: But one Rose,
If well inspir'd, this Battel shall confound
Both these brave Knights, and I a Virgin Flower
Must grow alone unpluck'd.
Here is heard a sodain twang of Instruments, and the Rose falls from the Tree.
The Flower is fall'n, the Tree descends: oh Mistriss
Thou here dischargest me, I shall be gather'd,
I think so, but I know not thine own Will;
Unclaspe the Mistery: I hope she's pleas'd,
Her Signs were gracious.

They curt'sey, and Exeunt.