Speeches (Lines) for SECOND FRIEND in "The Two Noble Kinsmen"

FIRST FRIEND. Nothing that I heard,
For I came home before the business
Was fully ended. Yet I might perceive,
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
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
Of your name or his 'scape.

SECOND FRIEND. Pray heaven it hold so.

[Enter Second Friend.]

SECOND FRIEND. Pray heaven it hold so.

[Enter Second Friend.]

SECOND FRIEND. Be of good comfort, man; I bring you news,
Good news.

JAILER. They are welcome.

SECOND FRIEND. Palamon has cleared you
And got your pardon, and discovered how
And by whose means he escaped, 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.

FIRST FRIEND. How was it ended?

SECOND FRIEND. Why, as it should be: they that ne'er begged
But they prevailed had their suits fairly granted;
The prisoners have their lives.

FIRST FRIEND. I knew 'twould be so.

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

JAILER. I hope they are good.

SECOND FRIEND. They are honorable;
How good they'll prove I know not.

WOOER. O, sir, when did you see her?

SECOND FRIEND. [aside]
How he looks!

FIRST FRIEND. Not right?

SECOND FRIEND. Not well?

WOOER. "His shackles will betray him; he'll be taken,
And what shall I do then? I'll bring a bevy,
A hundred black-eyed maids that love as I do,
With chaplets on their heads of daffadillies,
With cherry lips and cheeks of damask roses,
And all we'll dance an antic 'fore the Duke,
And beg his pardon." Then she talked of you, sir--
That you must lose your head tomorrow 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 sat; her careless tresses,
A wreath of bulrush rounded; about her stuck
Thousand freshwater flowers of several colors,
That methought she appeared like the fair nymph
That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris
Newly dropped down from heaven. Rings she made
Of rushes that grew by, and to 'em spoke
The prettiest posies: "Thus our true love's tied,"
"This you may lose, not me," and many a one;
And then she wept, and sung again, and sighed,
And with the same breath smiled and kissed her hand.

SECOND FRIEND. Alas, what pity it is!

DAUGHTER. 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.

SECOND FRIEND. This is strange.

FIRST FRIEND. [aside]
Does she know him?

SECOND FRIEND. No; would she did.

FIRST FRIEND. What kenn'st thou?

SECOND FRIEND. A fair wood.