The Two Noble Kinsmen (Act 2) | The William Shakespeare Project

JAILER
[Enter Jailer and Wooer.]
I may depart with little while I live; something I
may cast to you, not much. Alas, the prison I keep,
though it be for great ones, yet they seldom come;
before one salmon you shall take a number of minnows.
I am given out to be better lined than it can
appear to me report is a true speaker. I would I
were really that I am delivered to be. Marry, what
I have, be it what it will, I will assure upon my
daughter at the day of my death.

WOOER
Sir, I demand no more than your own offer,
and I will estate your daughter in what I have
promised.

JAILER
Well, we will talk more of this when the solemnity
is past. But have you a full promise of her?
When that shall be seen, I tender my consent.

[Enter the Jailer's Daughter, carrying rushes.]

WOOER
I have sir. Here she comes.

JAILER
[to Daughter]
Your friend and I have chanced
to name you here, upon the old business. But no
more of that now; so soon as the court hurry is
over, we will have an end of it. I' th' meantime,
look tenderly to the two prisoners. I can tell you they are princes.

DAUGHTER
These strewings are for their chamber. 'Tis
pity they are in prison, and 'twere pity they should
be out. I do think they have patience to make any
adversity ashamed. The prison itself is proud of
'em, and they have all the world in their chamber.

JAILER
They are famed to be a pair of absolute men.

DAUGHTER
By my troth, I think fame but stammers
'em. They stand a grise above the reach of report.

JAILER
I heard them reported in the battle to be the only doers.

DAUGHTER
Nay, most likely, for they are noble suff'rers.
I marvel how they would have looked had they
been victors, that with such a constant nobility enforce
a freedom out of bondage, making misery
their mirth and affliction a toy to jest at.

JAILER
Do they so?

DAUGHTER
It seems to me they have no more sense
of their captivity than I of ruling Athens. They eat
well, look merrily, discourse of many things, but
nothing of their own restraint and disasters. Yet
sometimes a divided sigh, martyred as 'twere i' th'
deliverance, will break from one of them--when
the other presently gives it so sweet a rebuke that
I could wish myself a sigh to be so chid, or at least
a sigher to be comforted.

WOOER
I never saw 'em.

JAILER
The Duke himself came privately in the night,
and so did they.

[Enter Palamon and Arcite, in shackles, above.]

What the reason of it is, I know not. Look, yonder
they are; that's Arcite looks out.

DAUGHTER
No, sir, no, that's Palamon. Arcite is the
lower of the twain; you may perceive a part of him.

JAILER
Go to, leave your pointing; they would not
make us their object. Out of their sight.

DAUGHTER
It is a holiday to look on them. Lord, the
diff'rence of men!
[Jailer, Daughter, and Wooer exit.]

PALAMON
[Palamon and Arcite remain, above.]
How do you, noble cousin?

ARCITE
How do you, sir?

PALAMON
Why, strong enough to laugh at misery
And bear the chance of war; yet we are prisoners
I fear forever, cousin.

ARCITE
I believe it,
And to that destiny have patiently
Laid up my hour to come.

PALAMON
O, cousin Arcite,
Where is Thebes now? Where is our noble country?
Where are our friends and kindreds? Never more
Must we behold those comforts, never see
The hardy youths strive for the games of honor,
Hung with the painted favors of their ladies,
Like tall ships under sail; then start amongst 'em
And as an east wind leave 'em all behind us,
Like lazy clouds, whilst Palamon and Arcite,
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg,
Outstripped the people's praises, won the garlands
Ere they have time to wish 'em ours. O, never
Shall we two exercise, like twins of honor,
Our arms again, and feel our fiery horses
Like proud seas under us. Our good swords now--
Better the red-eyed god of war ne'er wore--
Ravished our sides, like age must run to rust
And deck the temples of those gods that hate us;
These hands shall never draw 'em out like lightning
To blast whole armies more.

ARCITE
No, Palamon,
Those hopes are prisoners with us. Here we are
And here the graces of our youths must wither
Like a too-timely spring. Here age must find us
And--which is heaviest, Palamon--unmarried.
The sweet embraces of a loving wife,
Loaden with kisses, armed with thousand Cupids,
Shall never clasp our necks; no issue know us--
No figures of ourselves shall we e'er see,
To glad our age, and like young eagles teach 'em
Boldly to gaze against bright arms and say
"Remember what your fathers were, and conquer!"
The fair-eyed maids shall weep our banishments
And in their songs curse ever-blinded Fortune
Till she for shame see what a wrong she has done
To youth and nature. This is all our world.
We shall know nothing here but one another,
Hear nothing but the clock that tells our woes.
The vine shall grow, but we shall never see it;
Summer shall come, and with her all delights,
But dead-cold winter must inhabit here still.

PALAMON
'Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds
That shook the aged forest with their echoes
No more now must we halloo; no more shake
Our pointed javelins whilst the angry swine
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
Struck with our well-steeled darts. All valiant uses,
The food and nourishment of noble minds,
In us two here shall perish; we shall die,
Which is the curse of honor, lastly,
Children of grief and ignorance.

ARCITE
Yet, cousin,
Even from the bottom of these miseries,
From all that fortune can inflict upon us,
I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings,
If the gods please: to hold here a brave patience,
And the enjoying of our griefs together.
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish
If I think this our prison!

PALAMON
Certainly
'Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes
Were twined together. 'Tis most true, two souls
Put in two noble bodies, let 'em suffer
The gall of hazard, so they grow together,
Will never sink; they must not, say they could.
A willing man dies sleeping and all's done.

ARCITE
Shall we make worthy uses of this place
That all men hate so much?

PALAMON
How, gentle cousin?

ARCITE
Let's think this prison holy sanctuary
To keep us from corruption of worse men.
We are young and yet desire the ways of honor
That liberty and common conversation,
The poison of pure spirits, might like women
Woo us to wander from. What worthy blessing
Can be but our imaginations
May make it ours? And here being thus together,
We are an endless mine to one another;
We are one another's wife, ever begetting
New births of love; we are father, friends, acquaintance;
We are, in one another, families;
I am your heir, and you are mine. This place
Is our inheritance; no hard oppressor
Dare take this from us; here with a little patience
We shall live long and loving. No surfeits seek us;
The hand of war hurts none here, nor the seas
Swallow their youth. Were we at liberty,
A wife might part us lawfully, or business;
Quarrels consume us; envy of ill men
Crave our acquaintance. I might sicken, cousin,
Where you should never know it, and so perish
Without your noble hand to close mine eyes,
Or prayers to the gods. A thousand chances,
Were we from hence, would sever us.

PALAMON
You have made me--
I thank you, cousin Arcite--almost wanton
With my captivity. What a misery
It is to live abroad and everywhere!
'Tis like a beast, methinks. I find the court here,
I am sure, a more content; and all those pleasures
That woo the wills of men to vanity
I see through now, and am sufficient
To tell the world 'tis but a gaudy shadow
That old Time as he passes by takes with him.
What had we been, old in the court of Creon,
Where sin is justice, lust and ignorance
The virtues of the great ones? Cousin Arcite,
Had not the loving gods found this place for us,
We had died as they do, ill old men, unwept,
And had their epitaphs, the people's curses.
Shall I say more?

ARCITE
I would hear you still.

PALAMON
You shall.
Is there record of any two that loved
Better than we do, Arcite?

ARCITE
Sure there cannot.

PALAMON
I do not think it possible our friendship
Should ever leave us.

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?

ARCITE
[to Palamon, who is stunned by the sight of Emilia]
Pray, forward.

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
Dainty, madam.

ARCITE
[to Palamon]
Cousin, cousin! How do you, sir? Why, Palamon!

PALAMON
Never till now I was in prison, Arcite.

ARCITE
Why, what's the matter, man?

PALAMON
Behold, and wonder!
By heaven, she is a goddess.

ARCITE
[seeing Emilia]
Ha!

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!

ARCITE
[to Palamon]
She is wondrous fair.

PALAMON
She is all the beauty extant.

WOMAN
[to Woman]
The sun grows high. Let's walk in. Keep these
flowers.
We'll see how near art can come near their colors.
I am wondrous merry-hearted. I could laugh now.

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.]

PALAMON
What think you of this beauty?

ARCITE
'Tis a rare one.

PALAMON
Is 't but a rare one?

ARCITE
Yes, a matchless beauty.

PALAMON
Might not a man well lose himself and love her?

ARCITE
I cannot tell what you have done; I have,
Beshrew mine eyes for 't! Now I feel my shackles.

PALAMON
You love her, then?

ARCITE
Who would not?

PALAMON
And desire her?

ARCITE
Before my liberty.

PALAMON
I saw her first.

ARCITE
That's nothing.

PALAMON
But it shall be.

ARCITE
I saw her, too.

PALAMON
Yes, but you must not love her.

ARCITE
I will not, as you do, to worship her
As she is heavenly and a blessed goddess.
I love her as a woman, to enjoy her.
So both may love.

PALAMON
You shall not love at all.

ARCITE
Not love at all! Who shall deny me?

PALAMON
I, that first saw her; I that took possession
First with mine eye of all those beauties
In her revealed to mankind. If thou lov'st her,
Or entertain'st a hope to blast my wishes,
Thou art a traitor, Arcite, and a fellow
False as thy title to her. Friendship, blood,
And all the ties between us I disclaim
If thou once think upon her.

ARCITE
Yes, I love her,
And, if the lives of all my name lay on it,
I must do so. I love her with my soul.
If that will lose you, farewell, Palamon.
I say again, I love, and in loving her maintain
I am as worthy and as free a lover
And have as just a title to her beauty
As any Palamon or any living
That is a man's son.

PALAMON
Have I called thee friend?

ARCITE
Yes, and have found me so. Why are you moved thus?
Let me deal coldly with you: am not I
Part of your blood, part of your soul? You have told me
That I was Palamon and you were Arcite.

PALAMON
Yes.

ARCITE
Am not I liable to those affections,
Those joys, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall suffer?

PALAMON
You may be.

ARCITE
Why then would you deal so cunningly,
So strangely, so unlike a noble kinsman,
To love alone? Speak truly, do you think me
Unworthy of her sight?

PALAMON
No, but unjust
If thou pursue that sight.

ARCITE
Because another
First sees the enemy, shall I stand still
And let mine honor down, and never charge?

PALAMON
Yes, if he be but one.

ARCITE
But say that one
Had rather combat me?

PALAMON
Let that one say so,
And use thy freedom. Else, if thou pursuest her,
Be as that cursed man that hates his country,
A branded villain.

ARCITE
You are mad.

PALAMON
I must be.
Till thou art worthy, Arcite, it concerns me.
And in this madness if I hazard thee
And take thy life, I deal but truly.

ARCITE
Fie, sir!
You play the child extremely. I will love her;
I must, I ought to do so, and I dare,
And all this justly.

PALAMON
O, that now, that now,
Thy false self and thy friend had but this fortune
To be one hour at liberty, and grasp
Our good swords in our hands, I would quickly teach thee
What 'twere to filch affection from another.
Thou art baser in it than a cutpurse.
Put but thy head out of this window more
And, as I have a soul, I'll nail thy life to 't.

ARCITE
Thou dar'st not, fool; thou canst not; thou art feeble.
Put my head out? I'll throw my body out
And leap the garden when I see her next,
And pitch between her arms to anger thee.

[Enter Jailer, above.]

PALAMON
No more; the keeper's coming. I shall live
To knock thy brains out with my shackles.

ARCITE
Do!

JAILER
By your leave, gentlemen.

PALAMON
Now, honest keeper?

JAILER
Lord Arcite, you must presently to th' Duke;
The cause I know not yet.

ARCITE
I am ready, keeper.

JAILER
Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you
Of your fair cousin's company.

[Arcite and Jailer exit.]

PALAMON
And me too,
Even when you please, of life.--Why is he sent for?
It may be he shall marry her; he's goodly,
And like enough the Duke hath taken notice
Both of his blood and body. But his falsehood!
Why should a friend be treacherous? If that
Get him a wife so noble and so fair,
Let honest men ne'er love again. Once more
I would but see this fair one. Blessed garden
And fruit and flowers more blessed that still
blossom
As her bright eyes shine on you, would I were,
For all the fortune of my life hereafter,
Yon little tree, yon blooming apricock!
How I would spread and fling my wanton arms
In at her window; I would bring her fruit
Fit for the gods to feed on; youth and pleasure
Still as she tasted should be doubled on her;
And, if she be not heavenly, I would make her
So near the gods in nature, they should fear her.

[Enter Jailer, above.]

And then I am sure she would love me.--How now, keeper,
Where's Arcite?

JAILER
Banished. Prince Pirithous
Obtained his liberty, but never more
Upon his oath and life must he set foot
Upon this kingdom.

PALAMON
He's a blessed man.
He shall see Thebes again, and call to arms
The bold young men that, when he bids 'em charge,
Fall on like fire. Arcite shall have a fortune,
If he dare make himself a worthy lover,
Yet in the field to strike a battle for her,
And, if he lose her then, he's a cold coward.
How bravely may he bear himself to win her
If he be noble Arcite--thousand ways!
Were I at liberty, I would do things
Of such a virtuous greatness that this lady,
This blushing virgin, should take manhood to her
And seek to ravish me.

JAILER
My lord, for you
I have this charge to--

PALAMON
To discharge my life?

JAILER
No, but from this place to remove your Lordship;
The windows are too open.

PALAMON
Devils take 'em
That are so envious to me! Prithee, kill me.

JAILER
And hang for 't afterward!

PALAMON
By this good light,
Had I a sword I would kill thee.

JAILER
Why, my lord?

PALAMON
Thou bringst such pelting, scurvy news continually,
Thou art not worthy life. I will not go.

JAILER
Indeed you must, my lord.

PALAMON
May I see the garden?

JAILER
No.

PALAMON
Then I am resolved, I will not go.

JAILER
I must constrain you then; and, for you are dangerous,
I'll clap more irons on you.

JAILER
Do, good keeper.
I'll shake 'em so, you shall not sleep;
I'll make you a new morris. Must I go?

JAILER
There is no remedy.

Three QUEENS
Farewell, kind window.
May rude wind never hurt thee. O, my lady,
If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was,
Dream how I suffer.--Come; now bury me.

[Palamon and Jailer exit.]

ARCITE
[Enter Arcite.]
Banished the kingdom? 'Tis a benefit,
A mercy I must thank 'em for; but banished
The free enjoying of that face I die for,
O, 'twas a studied punishment, a death
Beyond imagination--such a vengeance
That, were I old and wicked, all my sins
Could never pluck upon me. Palamon,
Thou hast the start now; thou shalt stay and see
Her bright eyes break each morning 'gainst thy
window
And let in life into thee; thou shalt feed
Upon the sweetness of a noble beauty
That nature ne'er exceeded nor ne'er shall.
Good gods, what happiness has Palamon!
Twenty to one he'll come to speak to her,
And if she be as gentle as she's fair,
I know she's his. He has a tongue will tame
Tempests and make the wild rocks wanton.
Come what can come,
The worst is death. I will not leave the kingdom.
I know mine own is but a heap of ruins,
And no redress there. If I go, he has her.
I am resolved another shape shall make me
Or end my fortunes. Either way I am happy.
I'll see her and be near her, or no more.

[Enter four Country people, and one with
a garland before them.]

[Arcite steps aside.]

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
My masters, I'll be there, that's certain.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
And I'll be there.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
And I.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Why, then, have with you, boys.
'Tis but a chiding. Let the plough play today; I'll
tickle 't out of the jades' tails tomorrow.

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
I am sure to have my wife as jealous
as a turkey, but that's all one. I'll go through;
let her mumble.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
Clap her aboard tomorrow night
and stow her, and all's made up again.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Ay, do but put a fescue in her fist
and you shall see her take a new lesson out and be
a good wench. Do we all hold against the Maying?

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Hold? What should ail us?

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Arcas will be there.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
And Sennois and Rycas; and
three better lads ne'er danced under green tree.
And you know what wenches, ha! But will the
dainty domine, the Schoolmaster, keep touch, do
you think? For he does all, you know.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
He'll eat a hornbook ere he fail.
Go to, the matter's too far driven between him and
the tanner's daughter to let slip now; and she must
see the Duke, and she must dance too.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Shall we be lusty?

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
All the boys in Athens blow wind
i' th' breech on 's. And here I'll be and there I'll be,
for our town, and here again, and there again. Ha,
boys, hey for the weavers!

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
This must be done i' th' woods.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
O pardon me.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
By any means; our thing of learning
says so--where he himself will edify the Duke
most parlously in our behalfs. He's excellent i' th'
woods; bring him to th' plains, his learning makes no cry.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
We'll see the sports, then every
man to 's tackle. And, sweet companions, let's rehearse,
by any means, before the ladies see us, and
do sweetly, and God knows what may come on 't.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Content. The sports once ended,
we'll perform. Away, boys, and hold.

[Arcite comes forward.]

ARCITE
By your leaves, honest friends: pray you,
whither go you?

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Whither?
Why, what a question's that?

ARCITE
Yes, 'tis a question
To me that know not.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
To the games, my friend.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
Where were you bred, you know it not?

ARCITE
Not far, sir.
Are there such games today?

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
Yes, marry, are there,
And such as you never saw. The Duke himself
Will be in person there.

ARCITE
What pastimes are they?

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
Wrestling and running.--'Tis a pretty fellow.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Thou wilt not go along?

ARCITE
Not yet, sir.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Well, sir,
Take your own time.--Come, boys.

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
[aside to the others]
My mind misgives
me. This fellow has a vengeance trick o' th'
hip. Mark how his body's made for 't.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
[aside to the others]
I'll be
hanged, though, if he dare venture. Hang him,
plum porridge! He wrestle? He roast eggs! Come,
let's be gone, lads.

[The four exit.]

ARCITE
This is an offered opportunity
I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled--
The best men called it excellent--and run
Swifter than wind upon a field of corn,
Curling the wealthy ears, never flew. I'll venture,
And in some poor disguise be there. Who knows
Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands,
And happiness prefer me to a place
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her?

[Arcite exits.]

DAUGHTER
[Enter Jailer's Daughter, alone.]
Why should I love this gentleman? 'Tis odds
He never will affect me. I am base,
My father the mean keeper of his prison,
And he a prince. To marry him is hopeless;
To be his whore is witless. Out upon 't!
What pushes are we wenches driven to
When fifteen once has found us! First, I saw him;
I, seeing, thought he was a goodly man;
He has as much to please a woman in him,
If he please to bestow it so, as ever
These eyes yet looked on. Next, I pitied him,
And so would any young wench, o' my conscience,
That ever dreamed, or vowed her maidenhead
To a young handsome man. Then I loved him,
Extremely loved him, infinitely loved him!
And yet he had a cousin, fair as he too.
But in my heart was Palamon, and there,
Lord, what a coil he keeps! To hear him
Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is!
And yet his songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken
Was never gentleman. When I come in
To bring him water in a morning, first
He bows his noble body, then salutes me thus:
"Fair, gentle maid, good morrow. May thy goodness
Get thee a happy husband." Once he kissed me;
I loved my lips the better ten days after.
Would he would do so ev'ry day! He grieves much--
And me as much to see his misery.
What should I do to make him know I love him?
For I would fain enjoy him. Say I ventured
To set him free? What says the law then?
Thus much for law or kindred! I will do it,
And this night, or tomorrow, he shall love me.

[She exits.]

THESEUS
[This short flourish of cornets and shouts within.
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Emilia, Arcite
in disguise, with a garland, Attendants, and others.]

[to Arcite]
You have done worthily. I have not seen,
Since Hercules, a man of tougher sinews.
Whate'er you are, you run the best and wrestle
That these times can allow.

ARCITE
I am proud to please you.

THESEUS
What country bred you?

ARCITE
This; but far off, prince.

THESEUS
Are you a gentleman?

ARCITE
My father said so,
And to those gentle uses gave me life.

THESEUS
Are you his heir?

ARCITE
His youngest, sir.

THESEUS
Your father,
Sure, is a happy sire, then. What proves you?

ARCITE
A little of all noble qualities.
I could have kept a hawk and well have hallowed
To a deep cry of dogs. I dare not praise
My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me
Would say it was my best piece. Last, and greatest,
I would be thought a soldier.

THESEUS
You are perfect.

PIRITHOUS
Upon my soul, a proper man.

EMILIA
He is so.

PIRITHOUS
[to Hippolyta]
How do you like him, lady?

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.

HIPPOLYTA
But his body
And fiery mind illustrate a brave father.

PIRITHOUS
Mark how his virtue, like a hidden sun,
Breaks through his baser garments.

HIPPOLYTA
He's well got, sure.

THESEUS
[to Arcite]
What made you seek this place, sir?

ARCITE
Noble Theseus,
To purchase name and do my ablest service
To such a well-found wonder as thy worth;
For only in thy court, of all the world,
Dwells fair-eyed Honor.

PIRITHOUS
All his words are worthy.

THESEUS
Sir, we are much indebted to your travel,
Nor shall you lose your wish.--Pirithous,
Dispose of this fair gentleman.

PIRITHOUS
Thanks, Theseus.--
Whate'er you are, you're mine, and I shall give you
To a most noble service: to this lady,
This bright young virgin.

[He brings Arcite to Emilia.]

Pray observe her goodness;
You have honored her fair birthday with yourvirtues,
And, as your due, you're hers. Kiss her fair hand, sir.

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.

PIRITHOUS
[to Arcite]

I'll see you furnished, and because you say
You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you
This afternoon to ride--but 'tis a rough one.

ARCITE
I like him better, prince; I shall not then
Freeze in my saddle.

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.

ARCITE
If I do not,
Let me find that my father ever hated,
Disgrace and blows.

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.]

DAUGHTER
[Enter Jailer's Daughter alone.]
Let all the dukes and all the devils roar!
He is at liberty. I have ventured for him,
And out I have brought him; to a little wood
A mile hence I have sent him, where a cedar
Higher than all the rest spreads like a plane
Fast by a brook, and there he shall keep close
Till I provide him files and food, for yet
His iron bracelets are not off. O Love,
What a stout-hearted child thou art! My father
Durst better have endured cold iron than done it.
I love him beyond love and beyond reason
Or wit or safety. I have made him know it;
I care not, I am desperate. If the law
Find me and then condemn me for 't, some wenches,
Some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge
And tell to memory my death was noble,
Dying almost a martyr. That way he takes
I purpose is my way too. Sure he cannot
Be so unmanly as to leave me here.
If he do, maids will not so easily
Trust men again. And yet he has not thanked me
For what I have done; no, not so much as kissed me,
And that, methinks, is not so well; nor scarcely
Could I persuade him to become a free man,
He made such scruples of the wrong he did
To me and to my father. Yet I hope,
When he considers more, this love of mine
Will take more root within him. Let him do
What he will with me, so he use me kindly;
For use me so he shall, or I'll proclaim him,
And to his face, no man. I'll presently
Provide him necessaries and pack my clothes up,
And where there is a path of ground I'll venture,
So he be with me. By him like a shadow
I'll ever dwell. Within this hour the hubbub
Will be all o'er the prison. I am then
Kissing the man they look for. Farewell, father!
Get many more such prisoners and such daughters,
And shortly you may keep yourself. Now to him.

[She exits.]

The Two Noble Kinsmen (1613)

Act II, Scene 1

Act II, Scene 2

Act II, Scene 3

Act II, Scene 4

Act II, Scene 5

Act II, Scene 6

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