Speeches (Lines) for EMILIA in "The Two Noble Kinsmen"

HIPPOLYTA. [to Second Queen] Stand up.

EMILIA. [to Third Queen]
No knees to me.
What woman I may stead that is distressed
Does bind me to her.

THIRD QUEEN. O, my petition was
Set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied
Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form,
Is pressed with deeper matter.

EMILIA. Pray stand up.
Your grief is written in your cheek.

THIRD QUEEN. O, woe!
You cannot read it there. [She rises.]
There through my tears,
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,
You may behold 'em. Lady, lady, alack!
He that will all the treasure know o' th' Earth
Must know the center too; he that will fish
For my least minnow, let him lead his line
To catch one at my heart. O, pardon me!
Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,
Makes me a fool.

EMILIA. Pray you say nothing, pray you.
Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in 't,
Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you were
The groundpiece of some painter, I would buy you
T' instruct me 'gainst a capital grief--indeed,
Such heart-pierced demonstration. But, alas,
Being a natural sister of our sex,
Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me
That it shall make a counter-reflect 'gainst
My brother's heart and warm it to some pity,
Though it were made of stone. Pray have good comfort.

Three QUEENS. [to Emilia]
O, help now!
Our cause cries for your knee.

EMILIA. [to Theseus, kneeling]
If you grant not
My sister her petition in that force,
With that celerity and nature which
She makes it in, from henceforth I'll not dare
To ask you anything, nor be so hardy
Ever to take a husband.

PIRITHOUS. Though I know
His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they
Must yield their tribute there.--My precious maid,
Those best affections that the heavens infuse
In their best-tempered pieces keep enthroned
In your dear heart!

EMILIA. Thanks, sir. Remember me
To our all-royal brother, for whose speed
The great Bellona I'll solicit; and
Since in our terrene state petitions are not
Without gifts understood, I'll offer to her
What I shall be advised she likes. Our hearts
Are in his army, in his tent.

PIRITHOUS. Peace be to you
As I pursue this war, which shall be then
Beyond further requiring.
[Pirithous exits.]

EMILIA. How his longing
Follows his friend! Since his depart, his sports,
Though craving seriousness and skill, passed slightly
His careless execution, where nor gain
Made him regard, or loss consider, but
Playing one business in his hand, another
Directing in his head, his mind nurse equal
To these so diff'ring twins. Have you observed him
Since our great lord departed?

HIPPOLYTA. With much labor,
And I did love him for 't. They two have cabined
In many as dangerous as poor a corner,
Peril and want contending; they have skiffed
Torrents whose roaring tyranny and power
I' th' least of these was dreadful, and they have
Fought out together where Death's self was lodged.
Yet fate hath brought them off. Their knot of love,
Tied, weaved, entangled, with so true, so long,
And with a finger of so deep a cunning,
May be outworn, never undone. I think
Theseus cannot be umpire to himself,
Cleaving his conscience into twain and doing
Each side like justice, which he loves best.

EMILIA. Doubtless
There is a best, and reason has no manners
To say it is not you. I was acquainted
Once with a time when I enjoyed a playfellow;
You were at wars when she the grave enriched,
Who made too proud the bed; took leave o' th' moon,
Which then looked pale at parting, when our count
Was each eleven.

HIPPOLYTA. 'Twas Flavina.

EMILIA. Yes.
You talk of Pirithous' and Theseus' love.
Theirs has more ground, is more maturely seasoned,
More buckled with strong judgment, and their needs
The one of th' other may be said to water
Their intertangled roots of love. But I,
And she I sigh and spoke of, were things innocent,
Loved for we did, and like the elements
That know not what nor why, yet do effect
Rare issues by their operance, our souls
Did so to one another. What she liked
Was then of me approved, what not, condemned,
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,
They died in perfume. On my head no toy
But was her pattern; her affections--pretty,
Though haply hers careless were--I followed
For my most serious decking. Had mine ear
Stol'n some new air, or at adventure hummed one
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 fury-innocent wots well comes in
Like old importment's bastard--has this end,
That the true love 'tween maid and maid may be
More than in sex individual.

HIPPOLYTA. 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.

EMILIA. I am sure I shall not.

HIPPOLYTA. Now, alack, weak sister,
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,
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
That we, more than his Pirithous, possess
The high throne in his heart.

EMILIA. I am not
Against your faith, yet I continue mine.
[They exit.]

ARCITE. Till our deaths it cannot.

[Enter Emilia and her Woman, below.]

And after death our spirits shall be led
To those that love eternally.
[Palamon catches sight of Emilia.]
Speak on, sir.

EMILIA. [to her Woman]
This garden has a world of pleasures in 't.
What flower is this?

WOMAN. 'Tis called narcissus, madam.

EMILIA. That was a fair boy certain, but a fool
To love himself. Were there not maids enough?

PALAMON. Yes.

EMILIA. [to Woman]
Or were they all hard-hearted?

WOMAN. They could not be to one so fair.

EMILIA. Thou wouldst not.

WOMAN. I think I should not, madam.

EMILIA. That's a good wench.
But take heed to your kindness, though.

WOMAN. Why, madam?

EMILIA. Men are mad things.

ARCITE. [to Palamon]
Will you go forward, cousin?

EMILIA. [to Woman]
Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench?

WOMAN. Yes.

EMILIA. I'll have a gown full of 'em, and of these.
This is pretty color. Will 't not do
Rarely upon a skirt, wench?

EMILIA. I'll have a gown full of 'em, and of these.
This is pretty color. Will 't not do
Rarely upon a skirt, wench?

EMILIA. Dainty, madam.

PALAMON. Do reverence.
She is a goddess, Arcite.

EMILIA. [to Woman]
Of all flowers
Methinks a rose is best.

WOMAN. Why, gentle madam?

EMILIA. 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,
Rude and impatient, then, like chastity,
She locks her beauties in her bud again,
And leaves him to base briers.

WOMAN. Yet, good madam,
Sometimes her modesty will blow so far
She falls for 't. A maid,
If she have any honor, would be loath
To take example by her.

EMILIA. Thou art wanton!

WOMAN. I could lie down, I am sure.

EMILIA. And take one with you?

WOMAN. That's as we bargain, madam.

EMILIA. Well, agree then.
[Emilia and Woman exit.]

PIRITHOUS. Upon my soul, a proper man.

EMILIA. He is so.

HIPPOLYTA. I admire him.
I have not seen so young a man so noble,
If he say true, of his sort.

EMILIA. Believe,
His mother was a wondrous handsome woman;
His face, methinks, goes that way.

ARCITE. Sir, you're a noble giver.--Dearest beauty,
Thus let me seal my vowed faith.

[He kisses her hand.]

When your servant,
Your most unworthy creature, but offends you,
Command him die, he shall.

EMILIA. That were too cruel.
If you deserve well, sir, I shall soon see 't.
You're mine, and somewhat better than your rank
I'll use you.

THESEUS. [to Hippolyta]
Sweet, you must be ready,--
And you, Emilia,--and you, friend,--and all,
Tomorrow by the sun, to do observance
To flowery May in Dian's wood.--Wait well, sir,
Upon your mistress.--Emily, I hope
He shall not go afoot.

EMILIA. That were a shame, sir,
While I have horses.--Take your choice, and what
You want at any time, let me but know it.
If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you
You'll find a loving mistress.

THESEUS. Go lead the way; you have won it.
It shall be so; you shall receive all dues
Fit for the honor you have won. 'Twere wrong else.--
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. They all exit.]

HIPPOLYTA. Never so pleased, sir.

EMILIA. 'Twas an excellent dance,
And, for a preface, I never heard a better.

HIPPOLYTA. Alas, the pity! Now or never, sister,
Speak not to be denied. That face of yours
Will bear the curses else of after ages
For these lost cousins.

EMILIA. In my face, dear sister,
I find no anger to 'em, nor no ruin.
The misadventure of their own eyes kill 'em.
Yet that I will be woman and have pity,
My knees shall grow to th' ground but I'll get mercy.

[She kneels.]

Help me, dear sister; in a deed so virtuous,
The powers of all women will be with us.

[Hippolyta kneels.]

Most royal brother--

HIPPOLYTA. Sir, by our tie of marriage--

EMILIA. By your own spotless honor--

HIPPOLYTA. By that faith,
That fair hand, and that honest heart you gave me--

EMILIA. By that you would have pity in another;
By your own virtues infinite--

PIRITHOUS. Nay, then, I'll in too.

[He kneels.]

By all our friendship, sir, by all our dangers;
By all you love most, wars and this sweet lady--

EMILIA. By that you would have trembled to deny
A blushing maid--

HIPPOLYTA. Next hear my prayers--

EMILIA. Last let me entreat, sir--

HIPPOLYTA. Mercy.

EMILIA. Mercy on these princes.

THESEUS. You make my faith reel.

[(To Emilia.)]

Say I felt
Compassion to 'em both, how would you place it?

[They rise from their knees.]

EMILIA. Upon their lives, but with their banishments.

THESEUS. You are a right woman, sister: you have pity,
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
They'd fight about you, hourly bring your honor
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.
Bow not my honor.

EMILIA. 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.
Besides, I have another oath 'gainst yours,
Of more authority, I am sure more love,
Not made in passion neither, but good heed.

PIRITHOUS. Urge it home, brave lady.

EMILIA. That you would ne'er deny me anything
Fit for my modest suit and your free granting.
I tie you to your word now; if you fail in 't,
Think how you maim your honor--
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!
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,
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.
For heaven's sake, save their lives, and banish 'em.

THESEUS. On what conditions?

EMILIA. 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
To one another.

THESEUS. [to Emilia]
Make choice, then.

EMILIA. I cannot, sir; they are both too excellent.
For me, a hair shall never fall of these men.

THESEUS. Are you content, sister?

EMILIA. Yes, I must, sir,
Else both miscarry.

DAUGHTER. Bear for it, master. Tack about!

[Sings.]

When Cynthia with her borrowed light, etc.

[They exit.]

EMILIA. [Enter Emilia alone, with two pictures.]
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.

[Looks at one of the pictures.]

Good heaven,
What a sweet face has Arcite! If wise Nature,
With all her best endowments, all those beauties
She sows 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 Ganymede
Set Jove afire with, and enforced the god
Snatch up the goodly boy and set him by him,
A shining constellation. What a brow,
Of what a spacious majesty, he carries,
Arched like the great-eyed 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.

[Looks at the other picture.]

Palamon
Is but his foil, to him a mere dull shadow;
He's swart and meager, 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.
O, who can find the bent of woman's fancy?
I am a fool; my reason is lost in me;
I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly
That women ought to beat me. On my knees
I ask thy pardon: Palamon, thou art alone
And only beautiful, and these the 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! O Love, this only
From this hour is complexion. Lie there, Arcite.

[She puts aside his picture.]

Thou art a changeling to him, a mere gypsy,
And this the noble body. I am sotted,
Utterly lost. My virgin's faith has fled me.
For if my brother but even now had asked me
Whether I loved, 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 Fancy,
That, having two fair gauds of equal sweetness,
Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both.

[Enter a Gentleman.]

How now, sir?

GENTLEMAN. From the noble duke, your brother,
Madam, I bring you news: the knights are come.

EMILIA. To end the quarrel?

GENTLEMAN. Yes.

EMILIA. Would I might end first!
What sins have I committed, chaste Diana,
That my unspotted youth must now be soiled
With blood 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, Hippolyta, Pirithous and Attendants.]

THESEUS. [to Attendant]
Bring 'em in
Quickly, by any means; I long to see 'em.

[To Emilia.]

Your two contending lovers are returned,
And with them their fair knights. Now, my fair sister,
You must love one of them.

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

PIRITHOUS. I guess 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 settled valor,
Not tainted with extremes, runs through his body
And guides his arm to brave things. Fear he cannot;
He shows no such soft temper. His head's yellow,
Hard-haired and curled, thick-twined like ivy tods,
Not to undo with thunder. In his face
The livery of the warlike maid appears,
Pure red and white, for yet no beard has blessed him.
And in his rolling eyes sits Victory,
As if she ever meant to crown his valor.
His nose stands high, a character of honor;
His red lips, after fights, are fit for ladies.

EMILIA. Must these men die too?

PIRITHOUS. There shall want no bravery.

[All but Emilia exit.]

EMILIA. Poor wench, go weep, for whosoever wins
Loses a noble cousin for thy sins.

[She exits.]

PALAMON. [Enter Palamon and his Knights,
with the former observance.]
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 party.
[Here they go to Venus's altar, fall on
their faces before it, and then kneel.]
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 choke Mars's drum
And turn th' alarm to whispers; that canst make
A cripple flourish with his crutch, and cure him
Before Apollo; that mayst force the king
To be his subject's vassal, and induce
Stale gravity to dance. The polled bachelor,
Whose youth, like wanton boys through bonfires,
Have skipped 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 Phoebus 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 vowed soldier, who do bear thy yoke
As 'twere a wreath of roses, yet is heavier
Than lead itself, stings more than nettles.
I have never been foul-mouthed against thy law,
Ne'er revealed secret, for I knew none--would not,
Had I kenned all that were. I never practiced
Upon man's wife, nor would the libels read
Of liberal wits. I never at great feasts
Sought to betray a beauty, but have blushed
At simp'ring sirs that did. I have been harsh
To large confessors, and have hotly asked them
If they had mothers--I had one, a woman,
And women 'twere they wronged. 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 screwed his square foot round;
The gout had knit his fingers into knots;
Torturing convulsions from his globy eyes
Had almost drawn their spheres, that what was life
In him seemed torture. This anatomy
Had by his young fair fere a boy, and I
Believed 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 defier;
To those that would and cannot, a rejoicer.
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. O, then, most soft sweet goddess,
Give me the victory of this question, which
Is true love's merit, and bless me with a sign
Of thy great pleasure.
[Here music is heard; doves are
seen to flutter. They fall again upon
their faces, then on their knees.]
O 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
My body to this business.--Let us rise
And bow before the goddess.

[They rise and bow.]

Time comes on.

[They exit.]

EMILIA. [Still music of recorders. Enter Emilia in white, her
hair about her shoulders, wearing a wheaten wreath;
one in white holding up her train, her hair stuck with
flowers; one before her carrying a silver hind, in which
is conveyed incense and sweet odors, which being
set upon the altar of Diana, her maids standing
aloof, she sets fire to it. Then they curtsy and kneel.]

O sacred, shadowy, cold, and constant queen,
Abandoner of revels, mute contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As wind-fanned snow, who to thy female knights
Allow'st no more blood than will make a blush,
Which is their order's robe, I here, thy priest,
Am humbled 'fore thine altar. O, vouchsafe
With that thy rare green eye, which never yet
Beheld thing maculate, look on thy virgin,
And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear--
Which ne'er heard scurrile term, into whose port
Ne'er entered wanton sound--to my petition,
Seasoned with holy fear. This is my last
Of vestal office. I am 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 doom neither; that which perished should
Go to 't unsentenced. 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 inspired, this battle shall confound
Both these brave knights, and I, a virgin flower,
Must grow alone unplucked.

[Here is heard a sudden twang of instruments,
and the rose falls from the tree.]

The flower is fall'n, the tree descends. O mistress,
Thou here dischargest me. I shall be gathered;
I think so, but I know not thine own will.
Unclasp thy mystery!--I hope she's pleased;
Her signs were gracious.

[They curtsy and exit.]

DAUGHTER. If you do, love, I'll cry.

[They exit.]

EMILIA. [Flourish. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta,
Emilia, Pirithous, and some Attendants.]

I'll no step further.

PIRITHOUS. Will you lose this sight?

EMILIA. I had rather see a wren hawk at a fly
Than this decision; ev'ry blow that falls
Threats a brave life; each stroke laments
The place whereon it falls, and sounds more like
A bell than blade. I will stay here.
It is enough my hearing shall be punished
With what shall happen, 'gainst the which there is
No deafing but to hear; not taint mine eye
With dread sights it may shun.

THESEUS. O, she must.
She shall see deeds of honor in their kind,
Which sometime show well, penciled. Nature now
Shall make and act the story, the belief
Both sealed with eye and ear.--You must be present;
You are the victor's meed, the price and garland
To crown the question's title.

EMILIA. Pardon me.
If I were there, I'd wink.

THESEUS. You must be there;
This trial is as 'twere i' th' night, and you
The only star to shine.

EMILIA. I am extinct;
There is but envy in that light which shows
The one the other. Darkness, which ever was
The dam of horror, who does stand accursed
Of many mortal millions, may even now,
By casting her black mantle over both,
That neither could find other, get herself
Some part of a good name, and many a murder
Set off whereto she's guilty.

HIPPOLYTA. You must go.

EMILIA. In faith, I will not.

THESEUS. Why, the knights must kindle
Their valor at your eye. Know, of this war
You are the treasure, and must needs be by
To give the service pay.

EMILIA. Sir, pardon me.
The title of a kingdom may be tried
Out of itself.

HIPPOLYTA. Farewell, sister.
I am like to know your husband 'fore yourself
By some small start of time. He whom the gods
Do of the two know best, I pray them he
Be made your lot.
[Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, and others,
exit. Emilia remains, comparing again
the pictures of Arcite and Palamon.]

EMILIA. Arcite is gently visaged, yet his eye
Is like an engine bent, or a sharp weapon
In a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage
Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon
Has a most menacing aspect; his brow
Is graved, and seems to bury what it frowns on;
Yet sometimes 'tis not so, but alters to
The quality of his thoughts. Long time his eye
Will dwell upon his object. Melancholy
Becomes him nobly; so does Arcite's mirth;
But Palamon's sadness is a kind of mirth,
So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad
And sadness merry. Those darker humors that
Stick misbecomingly on others, on them
Live in fair dwelling.
[Cornets. Trumpets sound as to a charge.]
Hark how yon spurs to spirit do incite
The princes to their proof! Arcite may win me,
And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to
The spoiling of his figure. O, what pity
Enough for such a chance? If I were by,
I might do hurt, for they would glance their eyes
Towards my seat, and in that motion might
Omit a ward or forfeit an offense
Which craved that very time.

[Cornets. A great cry and noise
within crying "A Palamon!"]

It is much better
I am not there. O, better never born
Than minister to such harm!

[Enter Servant.]

What is the chance?

SERVANT. The cry's "A Palamon."

EMILIA. Then he has won. 'Twas ever likely.
He looked all grace and success, and he is
Doubtless the prim'st of men. I prithee run
And tell me how it goes.

[Shout and cornets, crying "A Palamon!"]

SERVANT. Still "Palamon."

EMILIA. Run and inquire.

[Servant exits.]
[Addressing Arcite's picture.]

Poor servant, thou hast lost.
Upon my right side still I wore thy picture,
Palamon's on the left--why so, I know not.
I had no end in 't else; chance would have it so.
On the sinister side the heart lies; Palamon
Had the best-boding chance.

[Another cry, and shout within, and cornets.]
This burst of clamor
Is sure th' end o' th' combat.

[Enter Servant.]

SERVANT. They said that Palamon had Arcite's body
Within an inch o' th' pyramid, that the cry
Was general "A Palamon." But anon,
Th' assistants made a brave redemption, and
The two bold titlers at this instant are
Hand to hand at it.

EMILIA. Were they metamorphosed
Both into one--O, why, there were no woman
Worth so composed a man! Their single share,
Their nobleness peculiar to them, gives
The prejudice of disparity, value's shortness,
To any lady breathing.

[Cornets. Cry within, "Arcite, Arcite."]

More exulting?
"Palamon" still?

SERVANT. Nay, now the sound is "Arcite."

EMILIA. I prithee lay attention to the cry;
Set both thine ears to th' business.

[Cornets. A great shout, and cry "Arcite, victory!"]

SERVANT. The cry is "Arcite"
And "Victory! Hark, Arcite, victory!"
The combat's consummation is proclaimed
By the wind instruments.

EMILIA. Half-sights saw
That Arcite was no babe. God's lid, his richness
And costliness of spirit looked through him; it could
No more be hid in him than fire in flax,
Than humble banks can go to law with waters
That drift-winds force to raging. I did think
Good Palamon would miscarry, yet I knew not
Why I did think so. Our reasons are not prophets
When oft our fancies are. They are coming off.
Alas, poor Palamon!

[Cornets. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous,
Arcite as victor, and Attendants and others.]

THESEUS. O loved sister,
He speaks now of as brave a knight as e'er
Did spur a noble steed. Surely the gods
Would have him die a bachelor, lest his race
Should show i' th' world too godlike. His behavior
So charmed me that methought Alcides was
To him a sow of lead. If I could praise
Each part of him to th' all I have spoke, your Arcite
Did not lose by 't, for he that was thus good
Encountered yet his better. I have heard
Two emulous Philomels beat the ear o' th' night
With their contentious throats, now one the higher,
Anon the other, then again the first,
And by-and-by out-breasted, that the sense
Could not be judge between 'em. So it fared
Good space between these kinsmen, till heavens did
Make hardly one the winner.--Wear the garland
With joy that you have won.--For the subdued,
Give them our present justice, since I know
Their lives but pinch 'em. Let it here be done.
The scene's not for our seeing. Go we hence
Right joyful, with some sorrow.--Arm your prize;
I know you will not lose her.--Hippolyta,
I see one eye of yours conceives a tear,
The which it will deliver.

EMILIA. Is this winning?
O all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy?
But that your wills have said it must be so,
And charge me live to comfort this unfriended,
This miserable prince, that cuts away
A life more worthy from him than all women,
I should and would die too.

PALAMON. Thy brave soul seek Elysium!

EMILIA. I'll close thine eyes, prince. Blessed souls be with thee!
Thou art a right good man, and while I live,
This day I give to tears.