The Two Noble Kinsmen (Act 3) | The William Shakespeare Project

ARCITE
[Cornets in sundry places. Noise and hallowing
as people a-Maying. Enter Arcite alone.]

The Duke has lost Hippolyta; each took
A several laund. This is a solemn rite
They owe bloomed May, and the Athenians pay it
To th' heart of ceremony. O Queen Emilia,
Fresher than May, sweeter
Than her gold buttons on the boughs, or all
Th' enameled knacks o' th' mead or garden--yea,
We challenge too the bank of any nymph
That makes the stream seem flowers; thou, O jewel
O' th' wood, o' th' world, hast likewise blessed a pace
With thy sole presence. In thy rumination
That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between
And chop on some cold thought! Thrice blessed chance
To drop on such a mistress, expectation
Most guiltless on 't. Tell me, O Lady Fortune,
Next after Emily my sovereign, how far
I may be proud. She takes strong note of me,
Hath made me near her; and this beauteous morn,
The prim'st of all the year, presents me with
A brace of horses; two such steeds might well
Be by a pair of kings backed, in a field
That their crowns' titles tried. Alas, alas,
Poor cousin Palamon, poor prisoner, thou
So little dream'st upon my fortune that
Thou think'st thyself the happier thing, to be
So near Emilia; me thou deem'st at Thebes,
And therein wretched, although free. But if
Thou knew'st my mistress breathed on me, and that
I eared her language, lived in her eye--O coz,
What passion would enclose thee!

[Enter Palamon as out of a bush, with his shackles;
he bends his fist at Arcite.]

PALAMON
Traitor kinsman,
Thou shouldst perceive my passion if these signs
Of prisonment were off me, and this hand
But owner of a sword. By all oaths in one,
I and the justice of my love would make thee
A confessed traitor, O thou most perfidious
That ever gently looked, the void'st of honor
That e'er bore gentle token, falsest cousin
That ever blood made kin! Call'st thou her thine?
I'll prove it in my shackles, with these hands,
Void of appointment, that thou liest, and art
A very thief in love, a chaffy lord,
Nor worth the name of villain. Had I a sword,
And these house clogs away--

ARCITE
Dear cousin Palamon--

PALAMON
Cozener Arcite, give me language such
As thou hast showed me feat.

ARCITE
Not finding in
The circuit of my breast any gross stuff
To form me like your blazon holds me to
This gentleness of answer: 'tis your passion
That thus mistakes, the which, to you being enemy,
Cannot to me be kind. Honor and honesty
I cherish and depend on, howsoe'er
You skip them in me, and with them, fair coz,
I'll maintain my proceedings. Pray be pleased
To show in generous terms your griefs, since that
Your question's with your equal, who professes
To clear his own way with the mind and sword
Of a true gentleman.

PALAMON
That thou durst, Arcite!

ARCITE
My coz, my coz, you have been well advertised
How much I dare; you've seen me use my sword
Against th' advice of fear. Sure, of another
You would not hear me doubted, but your silence
Should break out, though i' th' sanctuary.

PALAMON
Sir,
I have seen you move in such a place which well
Might justify your manhood; you were called
A good knight and a bold. But the whole week's not fair
If any day it rain; their valiant temper
Men lose when they incline to treachery,
And then they fight like compelled bears--would fly
Were they not tied.

ARCITE
Kinsman, you might as well
Speak this and act it in your glass as to
His ear which now disdains you.

PALAMON
Come up to me;
Quit me of these cold gyves, give me a sword
Though it be rusty, and the charity
Of one meal lend me. Come before me then,
A good sword in thy hand, and do but say
That Emily is thine, I will forgive
The trespass thou hast done me--yea, my life,
If then thou carry 't; and brave souls in shades
That have died manly, which will seek of me
Some news from Earth, they shall get none but this:
That thou art brave and noble.

ARCITE
Be content.
Again betake you to your hawthorn house.
With counsel of the night I will be here
With wholesome viands. These impediments
Will I file off. You shall have garments and
Perfumes to kill the smell o' th' prison. After,
When you shall stretch yourself and say but "Arcite,
I am in plight," there shall be at your choice
Both sword and armor.

PALAMON
O you heavens, dares any
So noble bear a guilty business? None
But only Arcite. Therefore none but Arcite
In this kind is so bold.

ARCITE
Sweet Palamon.

PALAMON
I do embrace you and your offer; for
Your offer do 't I only. Sir, your person
Without hypocrisy I may not wish
More than my sword's edge on 't.

[Wind horns off; sound cornets.]

ARCITE
You hear the horns.
Enter your muset, lest this match between 's
Be crossed ere met. Give me your hand; farewell.
I'll bring you every needful thing. I pray you,
Take comfort and be strong.

PALAMON
Pray hold your promise,
And do the deed with a bent brow. Most certain
You love me not; be rough with me, and pour
This oil out of your language. By this air,
I could for each word give a cuff, my stomach
Not reconciled by reason.

ARCITE
Plainly spoken,
Yet pardon me hard language. When I spur
My horse, I chide him not; content and anger
In me have but one face.

[Wind horns.]

Hark, sir, they call
The scattered to the banquet; you must guess
I have an office there.

PALAMON
Sir, your attendance
Cannot please heaven, and I know your office
Unjustly is achieved.

ARCITE
'Tis a good title.
I am persuaded this question, sick between 's,
By bleeding must be cured. I am a suitor
That to your sword you will bequeath this plea,
And talk of it no more.

PALAMON
But this one word:
You are going now to gaze upon my mistress,
For note you, mine she is--

ARCITE
Nay then,--

PALAMON
Nay, pray you,
You talk of feeding me to breed me strength.
You are going now to look upon a sun
That strengthens what it looks on; there
You have a vantage o'er me, but enjoy 't till
I may enforce my remedy. Farewell.

[They exit.]

DAUGHTER
[Enter Jailer's Daughter, alone.]
He has mistook the brake I meant, is gone
After his fancy. 'Tis now well-nigh morning.
No matter; would it were perpetual night,
And darkness lord o' th' world. Hark, 'tis a wolf!
In me hath grief slain fear, and but for one thing,
I care for nothing, and that's Palamon.
I reck not if the wolves would jaw me, so
He had this file. What if I hallowed for him?
I cannot hallow. If I whooped, what then?
If he not answered, I should call a wolf,
And do him but that service. I have heard
Strange howls this livelong night; why may 't not be
They have made prey of him? He has no weapons;
He cannot run; the jingling of his gyves
Might call fell things to listen, who have in them
A sense to know a man unarmed and can
Smell where resistance is. I'll set it down
He's torn to pieces; they howled many together,
And then they fed on him; so much for that.
Be bold to ring the bell. How stand I then?
All's chared when he is gone. No, no, I lie.
My father's to be hanged for his escape;
Myself to beg, if I prized life so much
As to deny my act, but that I would not,
Should I try death by dozens. I am moped;
Food took I none these two days;
Sipped some water. I have not closed mine eyes
Save when my lids scoured off their brine. Alas,
Dissolve, my life! Let not my sense unsettle,
Lest I should drown, or stab, or hang myself.
O state of nature, fail together in me,
Since thy best props are warped! So, which way now?
The best way is the next way to a grave;
Each errant step beside is torment. Lo,
The moon is down, the crickets chirp, the screech owl
Calls in the dawn. All offices are done
Save what I fail in. But the point is this--
An end, and that is all.

[She exits.]

ARCITE
[Enter Arcite with meat, wine, and files.]

I should be near the place.--Ho! Cousin Palamon!

PALAMON
[within]
Arcite?

ARCITE
The same. I have brought you food and files.
Come forth and fear not; here's no Theseus.

PALAMON
Nor none so honest, Arcite.

ARCITE
That's no matter.
We'll argue that hereafter. Come, take courage;
You shall not die thus beastly. Here, sir, drink--
I know you are faint--then I'll talk further with you.

PALAMON
Arcite, thou mightst now poison me.

ARCITE
I might;
But I must fear you first. Sit down and, good now,
No more of these vain parleys. Let us not,
Having our ancient reputation with us,
Make talk for fools and cowards. To your health.

[He drinks.]

PALAMON
Do!

ARCITE
Pray sit down, then, and let me entreat you,
By all the honesty and honor in you,
No mention of this woman; 'twill disturb us.
We shall have time enough.

PALAMON
Well, sir, I'll pledge you.

[He drinks.]

ARCITE
Drink a good hearty draught; it breeds good blood, man.
Do not you feel it thaw you?

PALAMON
Stay, I'll tell you
After a draught or two more.

ARCITE
Spare it not.
The Duke has more, coz. Eat now.

PALAMON
Yes.

[He eats.]

PALAMON
I am glad
You have so good a stomach.

PALAMON
I am gladder
I have so good meat to 't.

ARCITE
Is 't not mad lodging
Here in the wild woods, cousin?

PALAMON
Yes, for them
That have wild consciences.

ARCITE
How tastes your victuals?
Your hunger needs no sauce, I see.

PALAMON
Not much.
But if it did, yours is too tart, sweet cousin.
What is this?

ARCITE
Venison.

PALAMON
'Tis a lusty meat.
Give me more wine. Here, Arcite, to the wenches
We have known in our days!

[He raises his cup in a toast.]

The Lord Steward's daughter!
Do you remember her?

ARCITE
After you, coz.

PALAMON
She loved a black-haired man.

ARCITE
She did so; well, sir?

PALAMON
And I have heard some call him Arcite, and--

ARCITE
Out with 't, faith.

PALAMON
She met him in an arbor.
What did she there, coz? Play o' th' virginals?

ARCITE
Something she did, sir.

PALAMON
Made her groan a month for 't--
Or two, or three, or ten.

ARCITE
The Marshal's sister
Had her share, too, as I remember, cousin,
Else there be tales abroad. You'll pledge her?

PALAMON
PALAMON Yes.

[He lifts his cup and then drinks.]

ARCITE
A pretty brown wench 'tis. There was a time
When young men went a-hunting, and a wood,
And a broad beech--and thereby hangs a tale.
Heigh ho!

PALAMON
For Emily, upon my life! Fool,
Away with this strained mirth. I say again
That sigh was breathed for Emily. Base cousin,
Dar'st thou break first?

ARCITE
You are wide.

PALAMON
By heaven and Earth,
There's nothing in thee honest.

ARCITE
Then I'll leave you.
You are a beast now.

PALAMON
As thou mak'st me, traitor.

ARCITE
There's all things needful: files and shirts and perfumes.
I'll come again some two hours hence and bring
That that shall quiet all.

PALAMON
A sword and armor.

ARCITE
Fear me not. You are now too foul. Farewell.
Get off your trinkets; you shall want naught.

PALAMON
Sirrah--

ARCITE
I'll hear no more.

[He exits.]

PALAMON
If he keep touch, he dies for 't.

[He exits.]

DAUGHTER
[Enter Jailer's Daughter.]
I am very cold, and all the stars are out too,
The little stars and all, that look like aglets.
The sun has seen my folly.--Palamon!
Alas, no; he's in heaven. Where am I now?
Yonder's the sea, and there's a ship. How 't tumbles!
And there's a rock lies watching under water.
Now, now, it beats upon it; now, now, now,
There's a leak sprung, a sound one! How they cry!
Open her before the wind; you'll lose all else.
Up with a course or two, and tack about, boys!
Good night, good night; you're gone. I am very hungry.
Would I could find a fine frog; he would tell me
News from all parts o' th' world; then would I make
A carrack of a cockleshell, and sail
By east and northeast to the king of pygmies,
For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father,
Twenty to one, is trussed up in a trice
Tomorrow morning. I'll say never a word.

[Sing.]
For I'll cut my green coat a foot above my knee,
And I'll clip my yellow locks an inch below mine eye.
Hey nonny, nonny, nonny.
He's buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,
And I'll go seek him through the world that is so wide.
Hey nonny, nonny, nonny.
O, for a prick now, like a nightingale,
To put my breast against. I shall sleep like a top else.

[She exits.]

SCHOOLMASTER
[Enter a Schoolmaster and six Countrymen,
one dressed as a Bavian.]
Fie, fie, what tediosity and disinsanity
is here among you! Have my rudiments been labored
so long with you, milked unto you, and, by a
figure, even the very plum broth and marrow of
my understanding laid upon you, and do you still
cry "Where?" and "How?" and "Wherefore?" You
most coarse-frieze capacities, you jean judgments,
have I said "Thus let be" and "There let be"
and "Then let be" and no man understand me? Proh
deum, medius fidius, you are all dunces! Forwhy,
here stand I; here the Duke comes; there are you,
close in the thicket; the Duke appears; I meet him
and unto him I utter learned things and many figures;
he hears, and nods, and hums, and then cries
"Rare!" and I go forward. At length I fling my cap
up--mark there! Then do you as once did Meleager
and the boar--break comely out before him;
like true lovers, cast yourselves in a body decently,
and sweetly, by a figure, trace and turn, boys.

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
And sweetly we will do it, Master Gerald.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
Draw up the company. Where's the taborer?

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Why, Timothy!

[Enter the Taborer.]

TABORER
Here, my mad boys. Have at you!

SCHOOLMASTER
But I say, where's their women?

[Enter five Wenches.]

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Here's Fritz and Maudlin.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
And little Luce with the white legs, and bouncing Barbary.

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
And freckled Nell, that never failed her master.

SCHOOLMASTER
Where be your ribbons, maids? Swim
with your bodies, and carry it sweetly and deliverly,
and now and then a favor and a frisk.

NELL
Let us alone, sir.

SCHOOLMASTER
Where's the rest o' th' music?

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Dispersed, as you commanded.

SCHOOLMASTER
Couple, then, and see what's wanting.
Where's the Bavian?--My friend, carry your tail
without offense or scandal to the ladies; and be
sure you tumble with audacity and manhood, and
when you bark, do it with judgment.

BAVIAN
Yes, sir.

SCHOOLMASTER
Quo usque tandem? Here is a woman wanting.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
We may go whistle; all the fat's i' th' fire.

SCHOOLMASTER
We have, as learned authors utter,
washed a tile; we have been fatuus and labored vainly.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
This is that scornful piece, that
scurvy hilding that gave her promise faithfully she
would be here--Cicely, the sempster's daughter.
The next gloves that I give her shall be dogskin;
nay, an she fail me once--you can tell, Arcas, she
swore by wine and bread she would not break.

SCHOOLMASTER
An eel and woman, a learned poet
says, unless by th' tail and with thy teeth thou hold,
will either fail. In manners, this was false position.

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
A fire ill take her! Does she flinch now?

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
What shall we determine, sir?

SCHOOLMASTER
Nothing. Our business is become a
nullity, yea, and a woeful and a piteous nullity.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Now, when the credit of our town
lay on it, now to be frampold, now to piss o' th'
nettle! Go thy ways; I'll remember thee. I'll fit
thee!

[Enter Jailer's Daughter.]

DAUGHTER
[sings]
The George Alow came from the south,
From the coast of Barbary-a,
And there he met with brave gallants of war,
By one, by two, by three-a.
"Well hailed, well hailed, you jolly gallants,
And whither now are you bound-a?
O, let me have your company
Till I come to the sound-a."
There was three fools, fell out about an owlet--
[Sings]
The one he said it was an owl,
The other he said nay,
The third he said it was a hawk,
And her bells were cut away.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
There's a dainty madwoman, master,
comes i' th' nick, as mad as a March hare. If we
can get her dance, we are made again. I warrant
her, she'll do the rarest gambols.

FIRST COUNTRYMAN
A madwoman? We are made, boys.

SCHOOLMASTER
[to Jailer's Daughter]
And are you mad,
good woman?

DAUGHTER
I would be sorry else. Give me your hand.

SCHOOLMASTER
Why?

DAUGHTER
I can tell your fortune.

[She looks at his hand.]

You are a fool. Tell ten.--I have posed him.
Buzz!--Friend, you must eat no white bread; if
you do, your teeth will bleed extremely. Shall we
dance, ho? I know you, you're a tinker. Sirrah tinker,
stop no more holes but what you should.

SCHOOLMASTER
Dii boni! A tinker, damsel?

DAUGHTER
Or a conjurer. Raise me a devil now, and let
him play Chi passa o' th' bells and bones.

SCHOOLMASTER
Go, take her, and fluently persuade her
to a peace. Et opus exegi, quod nec Iovis ira, nec
ignis. Strike up, and lead her in.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
Come, lass, let's trip it.

DAUGHTER
I'll lead.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Do, do!

SCHOOLMASTER
Persuasively, and cunningly.
[Wind horns.]
Away, boys! I hear the horns. Give me some
meditation, and mark your cue.
[All but Schoolmaster exit.]
Pallas, inspire me!

[Enter Theseus, Pirithous, Hippolyta, Emilia, and train.]

THESEUS
This way the stag took.

SCHOOLMASTER
Stay, and edify!

THESEUS
What have we here?

PIRITHOUS
Some country sport, upon my life, sir.

THESEUS
[to Schoolmaster]
Well, sir, go forward. We will "edify."

[Chairs and stools brought out.]

Ladies, sit down. We'll stay it.

[Theseus, Hippolyta, and Emilia sit.]

SCHOOLMASTER
Thou doughty duke, all hail!--All hail, sweet ladies!

THESEUS
[aside]
This is a cold beginning.

SCHOOLMASTER
If you but favor, our country pastime made is.
We are a few of those collected here
That ruder tongues distinguish "villager."
And to say verity, and not to fable,
We are a merry rout, or else a rabble,
Or company, or by a figure, chorus,
That 'fore thy dignity will dance a morris.
And I that am the rectifier of all,
By title pedagogus, that let fall
The birch upon the breeches of the small ones,
And humble with a ferula the tall ones,
Do here present this machine, or this frame.
And, dainty duke, whose doughty dismal fame
From Dis to Daedalus, from post to pillar,
Is blown abroad, help me, thy poor well-willer,
And with thy twinkling eyes look right and straight
Upon this mighty "Morr," of mickle weight--
"Is" now comes in, which being glued together
Makes "Morris," and the cause that we came hither.
The body of our sport, of no small study,
I first appear, though rude, and raw, and muddy,
To speak before thy noble grace this tenner,
At whose great feet I offer up my penner.
The next, the Lord of May and Lady bright,
The Chambermaid and Servingman by night
That seek out silent hanging; then mine Host
And his fat Spouse, that welcomes to their cost
The galled traveler, and with a beck'ning
Informs the tapster to inflame the reck'ning;
Then the beest-eating Clown; and next the Fool,
The Bavian with long tail and eke long tool,
Cum multis aliis that make a dance;
Say "ay," and all shall presently advance.

THESEUS
Ay, ay, by any means, dear Domine.

PIRITHOUS
Produce!

Three QUEENS
SCHOOLMASTER
Intrate, filii. Come forth and foot it.

[Music. Enter the Countrymen, Countrywomen, and
Jailer's Daughter; they perform a morris dance.]

Ladies, if we have been merry
And have pleased ye with a derry,
And a derry and a down,
Say the Schoolmaster's no clown.--
Duke, if we have pleased thee too
And have done as good boys should do,
Give us but a tree or twain
For a Maypole, and again,
Ere another year run out,
We'll make thee laugh, and all this rout.

THESEUS
Take twenty, Domine.--How does my sweetheart?

HIPPOLYTA
Never so pleased, sir.

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

THESEUS
Schoolmaster, I thank you.--One see 'em all rewarded.

[An Attendant gives money.]

PIRITHOUS
And here's something to paint your pole withal.

[He gives money.]

THESEUS
Now to our sports again.

SCHOOLMASTER
May the stag thou hunt'st stand long,
And thy dogs be swift and strong;
May they kill him without lets,
And the ladies eat his dowsets.
[Wind horns within. Theseus, Hippolyta,
Emilia, Pirithous, and Train exit.]
Come, we are all made. Dii deaeque omnes,
You have danced rarely, wenches.

[They exit.]

PALAMON
[Enter Palamon from the bush.]
About this hour my cousin gave his faith
To visit me again, and with him bring
Two swords and two good armors. If he fail,
He's neither man nor soldier. When he left me,
I did not think a week could have restored
My lost strength to me, I was grown so low
And crestfall'n with my wants. I thank thee, Arcite,
Thou art yet a fair foe, and I feel myself,
With this refreshing, able once again
To outdure danger. To delay it longer
Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing,
That I lay fatting like a swine to fight
And not a soldier. Therefore, this blest morning
Shall be the last; and that sword he refuses,
If it but hold, I kill him with. 'Tis justice.
So, love and fortune for me!

[Enter Arcite with armors and swords.]

O, good morrow.

ARCITE
Good morrow, noble kinsman.

PALAMON
I have put you
To too much pains, sir.

ARCITE
That too much, fair cousin,
Is but a debt to honor and my duty.

PALAMON
Would you were so in all, sir; I could wish you
As kind a kinsman as you force me find
A beneficial foe, that my embraces
Might thank you, not my blows.

ARCITE
I shall think either,
Well done, a noble recompense.

PALAMON
Then I shall quit you.

ARCITE
Defy me in these fair terms, and you show
More than a mistress to me. No more anger,
As you love anything that's honorable!
We were not bred to talk, man; when we are armed
And both upon our guards, then let our fury,
Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us,
And then to whom the birthright of this beauty
Truly pertains--without upbraidings, scorns,
Despisings of our persons, and such poutings,
Fitter for girls and schoolboys--will be seen,
And quickly, yours or mine. Will 't please you arm, sir?
Or if you feel yourself not fitting yet
And furnished with your old strength, I'll stay, cousin,
And ev'ry day discourse you into health,
As I am spared. Your person I am friends with,
And I could wish I had not said I loved her,
Though I had died. But loving such a lady,
And justifying my love, I must not fly from 't.

PALAMON
Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy
That no man but thy cousin's fit to kill thee.
I am well and lusty. Choose your arms.

ARCITE
Choose you, sir.

PALAMON
Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost thou do it
To make me spare thee?

ARCITE
If you think so, cousin,
You are deceived, for as I am a soldier,
I will not spare you.

PALAMON
That's well said.

ARCITE
You'll find it.

PALAMON
Then, as I am an honest man and love
With all the justice of affection,
I'll pay thee soundly.

[He chooses armor.]

This I'll take.

ARCITE
[taking the other]
That's mine, then.
I'll arm you first.

PALAMON
Do.

[Arcite begins arming him.]

Pray thee tell me, cousin,
Where got'st thou this good armor?

ARCITE
'Tis the Duke's,
And to say true, I stole it. Do I pinch you?

PALAMON
No.

ARCITE
Is 't not too heavy?

PALAMON
I have worn a lighter,
But I shall make it serve.

ARCITE
I'll buckle 't close.

PALAMON
By any means.

ARCITE
You care not for a grand guard?

PALAMON
No, no, we'll use no horses. I perceive
You would fain be at that fight.

ARCITE
I am indifferent.

PALAMON
Faith, so am I. Good cousin, thrust the buckle
Through far enough.

ARCITE
I warrant you.

PALAMON
My casque now.

ARCITE
Will you fight bare-armed?

PALAMON
We shall be the nimbler.

ARCITE
But use your gauntlets though. Those are o' th' least.
Prithee take mine, good cousin.

PALAMON
Thank you, Arcite.
How do I look? Am I fall'n much away?

ARCITE
Faith, very little; love has used you kindly.

PALAMON
I'll warrant thee, I'll strike home.

ARCITE
Do, and spare not.
I'll give you cause, sweet cousin.

PALAMON
Now to you, sir.

[He begins to arm Arcite.]

Methinks this armor's very like that, Arcite,
Thou wor'st that day the three kings fell, but lighter.

ARCITE
That was a very good one, and that day,
I well remember, you outdid me, cousin.
I never saw such valor. When you charged
Upon the left wing of the enemy,
I spurred hard to come up, and under me
I had a right good horse.

PALAMON
You had, indeed;
A bright bay, I remember.

ARCITE
Yes, but all
Was vainly labored in me; you outwent me,
Nor could my wishes reach you; yet a little
I did by imitation.

PALAMON
More by virtue;
You are modest, cousin.

ARCITE
When I saw you charge first,
Methought I heard a dreadful clap of thunder
Break from the troop.

PALAMON
But still before that flew
The lightning of your valor. Stay a little;
Is not this piece too strait?

ARCITE
No, no, 'tis well.

PALAMON
I would have nothing hurt thee but my sword.
A bruise would be dishonor.

ARCITE
Now I am perfect.

PALAMON
Stand off, then.

ARCITE
Take my sword; I hold it better.

PALAMON
I thank you, no; keep it; your life lies on it.
Here's one; if it but hold, I ask no more
For all my hopes. My cause and honor guard me!

ARCITE
And me my love!

[They bow several ways, then advance and stand.]

Is there aught else to say?

PALAMON
This only, and no more: thou art mine aunt's son.
And that blood we desire to shed is mutual--
In me thine, and in thee mine. My sword
Is in my hand, and if thou kill'st me,
The gods and I forgive thee. If there be
A place prepared for those that sleep in honor,
I wish his weary soul that falls may win it.
Fight bravely, cousin. Give me thy noble hand.

ARCITE
[as they shake hands]
Here, Palamon. This hand shall never more
Come near thee with such friendship.

PALAMON
I commend thee.

ARCITE
If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward,
For none but such dare die in these just trials.
Once more farewell, my cousin.

PALAMON
Farewell, Arcite.

[Fight.]
[Horns within. They stand.]

ARCITE
Lo, cousin, lo, our folly has undone us!

PALAMON
Why?

ARCITE
This is the Duke, a-hunting, as I told you.
If we be found, we are wretched. O, retire,
For honor's sake, and safely, presently
Into your bush again. Sir, we shall find
Too many hours to die in. Gentle cousin,
If you be seen, you perish instantly
For breaking prison, and I, if you reveal me,
For my contempt. Then all the world will scorn us,
And say we had a noble difference,
But base disposers of it.

PALAMON
No, no, cousin,
I will no more be hidden, nor put off
This great adventure to a second trial.
I know your cunning, and I know your cause.
He that faints now, shame take him! Put thyself
Upon thy present guard--

ARCITE
You are not mad?

PALAMON
Or I will make th' advantage of this hour
Mine own, and what to come shall threaten me
I fear less than my fortune. Know, weak cousin,
I love Emilia, and in that I'll bury
Thee and all crosses else.

ARCITE
Then come what can come,
Thou shalt know, Palamon, I dare as well
Die as discourse or sleep. Only this fears me:
The law will have the honor of our ends.
Have at thy life!

PALAMON
Look to thine own well, Arcite.

[Fight again.]
[Horns. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous and train.]

THESEUS
What ignorant and mad malicious traitors
Are you, that 'gainst the tenor of my laws
Are making battle, thus like knights appointed,
Without my leave and officers of arms?
By Castor, both shall die.

PALAMON
Hold thy word, Theseus.
We are certainly both traitors, both despisers
Of thee and of thy goodness. I am Palamon,
That cannot love thee, he that broke thy prison.
Think well what that deserves. And this is Arcite.
A bolder traitor never trod thy ground,
A falser ne'er seemed friend. This is the man
Was begged and banished; this is he contemns thee
And what thou dar'st do; and in this disguise,
Against thine own edict, follows thy sister,
That fortunate bright star, the fair Emilia,
Whose servant--if there be a right in seeing
And first bequeathing of the soul to--justly
I am; and, which is more, dares think her his.
This treachery, like a most trusty lover,
I called him now to answer. If thou be'st
As thou art spoken, great and virtuous,
The true decider of all injuries,
Say "Fight again," and thou shalt see me, Theseus,
Do such a justice thou thyself wilt envy.
Then take my life; I'll woo thee to 't.

PIRITHOUS
O heaven,
What more than man is this!

THESEUS
I have sworn.

ARCITE
We seek not
Thy breath of mercy, Theseus. 'Tis to me
A thing as soon to die as thee to say it,
And no more moved. Where this man calls me traitor,
Let me say thus much: if in love be treason,
In service of so excellent a beauty,
As I love most, and in that faith will perish,
As I have brought my life here to confirm it,
As I have served her truest, worthiest,
As I dare kill this cousin that denies it,
So let me be most traitor, and you please me.
For scorning thy edict, duke, ask that lady
Why she is fair, and why her eyes command me
Stay here to love her; and if she say "traitor,"
I am a villain fit to lie unburied.

PALAMON
Thou shalt have pity of us both, O Theseus,
If unto neither thou show mercy. Stop,
As thou art just, thy noble ear against us;
As thou art valiant, for thy cousin's soul,
Whose twelve strong labors crown his memory,
Let's die together at one instant, duke;
Only a little let him fall before me,
That I may tell my soul he shall not have her.

THESEUS
I grant your wish, for to say true, your cousin
Has ten times more offended, for I gave him
More mercy than you found, sir, your offenses
Being no more than his.--None here speak for 'em,
For ere the sun set both shall sleep forever.

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--

HIPPOLYTA
By valor;
By all the chaste nights I have ever pleased you--

THESEUS
These are strange conjurings.

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--

THESEUS
By your own eyes; by strength,
In which you swore I went beyond all women,
Almost all men, and yet I yielded, Theseus--

PIRITHOUS
To crown all this: by your most noble soul,
Which cannot want due mercy, I beg first--

HIPPOLYTA
Next hear my prayers--

EMILIA
Last let me entreat, sir--

PIRITHOUS
For mercy.

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.

THESEUS
What is it, sister?

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.

PALAMON
I'll be cut a-pieces
Before I take this oath! Forget I love her?
O, all you gods, despise me then! Thy banishment
I not mislike, so we may fairly carry
Our swords and cause along; else never trifle,
But take our lives, duke. I must love, and will,
And for that love must and dare kill this cousin
On any piece the Earth has.

THESEUS
Will you, Arcite,
Take these conditions?

PALAMON
He's a villain, then.

PIRITHOUS
These are men!

ARCITE
No, never, duke. 'Tis worse to me than begging
To take my life so basely; though I think
I never shall enjoy her, yet I'll preserve
The honor of affection, and die for her,
Make death a devil!

THESEUS
What may be done? For now I feel compassion.

PIRITHOUS
Let it not fall again, sir.

THESEUS
Say, Emilia,
If one of them were dead, as one must, are you
Content to take th' other to your husband?
They cannot both enjoy you. They are princes
As goodly as your own eyes, and as noble
As ever fame yet spoke of. Look upon 'em,
And, if you can love, end this difference.
I give consent.--Are you content too, princes?

"Both"
With all our souls.

THESEUS
He that she refuses
Must die then.

"Both"
Any death thou canst invent, duke.

PALAMON
If I fall from that mouth, I fall with favor,
And lovers yet unborn shall bless my ashes.

ARCITE
If she refuse me, yet my grave will wed me,
And soldiers sing my epitaph.

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.

HIPPOLYTA
What will become of 'em?

THESEUS
Thus I ordain it--
And, by mine honor, once again, it stands,
Or both shall die: you shall both to your country,
And each within this month, accompanied
With three fair knights, appear again in this place,
In which I'll plant a pyramid; and whether,
Before us that are here, can force his cousin
By fair and knightly strength to touch the pillar,
He shall enjoy her; the other lose his head,
And all his friends; nor shall he grudge to fall,
Nor think he dies with interest in this lady.
Will this content you?

PALAMON
Yes.--Here, Cousin Arcite,
I am friends again till that hour.

[He offers his hand.]

ARCITE
I embrace you.

[They shake hands.]

THESEUS
Are you content, sister?

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

THESEUS
[to Palamon and Arcite]
Come, shake hands again, then,
And take heed, as you are gentlemen, this quarrel
Sleep till the hour prefixed, and hold your course.

PALAMON
We dare not fail thee, Theseus.

[They shake hands again.]

THESEUS
Come, I'll give you
Now usage like to princes and to friends.
When you return, who wins I'll settle here;
Who loses, yet I'll weep upon his bier.

[They exit.]

The Two Noble Kinsmen (1613)

Act III, Scene 1

Act III, Scene 2

Act III, Scene 3

Act III, Scene 4

Act III, Scene 5

Act III, Scene 6

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