Knights, kinsmen, lovers, yea, my sacrifices,
True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you
Expels the seeds of fear, and th' apprehension,
Which still is further off it, go with me
Before the god of our profession! There
Require of him the hearts of lions, and
The breath of tigers, yea, the fierceness too!
Yea, the speed also! to go on, I mean,

Else wish we to be snails: You know my prize Must be dragg'd out of blood! force and great feat

Must put my garland on, where she will stick The queen of flowers; our intercession then Must be to him that makes the camp a cestron Brim'd with the blood of men; give me your aid And bend your spirits towards him!—

[They kneel. Thou mighty one, that with thy power hast turn'd

Green Neptune into purple; whose approach Comets prewarn; whose havoc in vast field Unearthed skulls proclaim; whose breath blows down

The teeming Ceres' foyzon; who dost pluck With hand armipotent from forth blue clouds The mason'd turrets; that both mak'st and break'st

The stony girths of cities; me thy pupil,

To be his subject's vassal, and induce Stale Gravity to dance; the polled bachelor, (Whose youth, like wanton boys thro' bonfires, Have skipt thy flame) at seventy thou canst catch,

And make him, to the scorn of his hoarse throat,
Abuse young lays of love. What godlike power
Hast thou not power upon? To Phœbus thou
Add'st flames, hotter than his; the heavenly fires
Did scorch his mortal son, thine him; the
huntress

All moist and cold, some say, began to throw
Her bow away, and sigh; take to thy grace
Me, thy vow'd soldier! who do bear thy yoke
As 'twere a wreath of roses, yet is heavier
Than lead itself, stings more than nettles:
I've never been foul-mouth'd against thy law;
Ne'er reveal'd secret, for I knew none, would

not

Had I ken'd all that were; I never practis'd
Upon man's wife, nor would the libels read
Of liberal wits; I never at great feasts
Sought to betray a beauty, but have blush'd
At simpring sirs that did; I have been harsh
To large confessors, and have hotly ask'd 'em
If they had mothers? I had one, a woman,
And women 'twere they wrong'd. I knew a

man

With military skill, that to thy laud

I may advance my streamer, and by thee

Be stil'd the lord o'th' day! Give me, Great Mars,

Some token of thy pleasure!

[Here they fall on their faces as formerly, and there is heard clanging of armour, with a short thunder, as the burst of a battle, whereupon they all rise, and bow to the altar. Oh, great corrector of enormous times, Shaker of o'er-rank states, thou grand decider Of dusty and old titles, that heal'st with blood The earth when it is sick, and curest the world O'th' pleurisy of people; I do take Thy signs auspiciously, and in thy name To my design march boldly. Let us go!

[Exeunt.

Enter PALAMON and his Knights, with the former observance.

Pal. Our stars must glister with new fire, or be

To-day 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 kneel.
Hail, sovereign queen of secrets! who hast power
To call the fiercest tyrant from his rage,
To weep unto a girl; that hast the might
Even with an eye-glance to choak Mars's drum,
And turn th' alarm to whispers; that canst make
A cripple flourish with his crutch, and cure him
Before Apollo; that may'st force the king

A lass of fourteen brided; 'twas thy power
To put life into dust; the aged cramp
Had screw'd his square foot round,
The gout had knit his fingers into knots,
Torturing convulsions from his globy eyes
Had almost drawn their spheres, that what was
life

In him seem'd torture; this anatomy
Had by his young fair pheer a boy, and I
Believ'd it was his, for she swore it was,
And who would not believe her? Brief! I am
To those that prate, and have done, no com
panion;

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. Oh, then, most soft sweet god-
dess,

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.

Oh, thou that from eleven to ninety reign'st
In mortal bosoms, whose chace 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, arins in assurance
[They bow

My body to this business. Let us rise
And bow before the goddess! Time comes on.
[Ereunt.

[Still music of records. Enter EMILIA in white, her hair about her shoulders, a wheaten wreath; one in white holding up her train, her hair stuck with flowers; one before her carrying a silver hind, in which is conveyed incense and sweet odors, which being set upon the altar, her maid standing aloof, she sets fire to it; then they curt'sy and kneel.

queen,

Abandoner of revels, mute, contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure

As wind-fann'd 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. Oh, 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 scurril term, into whose port
Ne'er enter'd wanton sound) to my petition,
Season'd with holy fear! This is my last
Of vestal office; I'm bride-habited,
But maiden-hearted; a husband I have 'pointed,
But do not know him; out of two I should
Chuse 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 perish'd should
Go to't unsentenc'd: Therefore, most modest
queen,

He, of the two pretenders, that best loves me
And has the truest title in't, let him
Take off my wheaten garland, or else grant
The file and quality I hold I may
Continue in thy band!

[Here the hind vanishes under the altar, and in the place ascends a rose-tree, having one rose upon it.

See what our general of ebbs and flows
Out from the bowels of her holy altar
With sacred act advances! But one rose?
If well inspired, this battle shall confound
Both these brave knights, and I a virgin flower
Must grow alone unpluck'd.

[Here is heard a sudden twang of instruments, and the rose falls from the tree. The flower is fallen, the tree descends! Oh,

Doctor. Let her do so;

And when your fit comes, fit her home, and presently!

Wooer. She'd have me sing.
Doctor. You did so?
Wooer. No.

Doctor. 'Twas very ill done then;
You should observe her every way.
Wover. Alas,

I have no voice, sir, to confirm her that way.
Doctor. That's all one, if you make a noise:
If she entreat again, do any thing;
Lie with her, if she ask you.
Jailor. Hoa there, Doctor!
Doctor. Yes, in the way of cure.
Jailor. But first, by your leave,
I'th' way of honesty.

Doctor. That's but a niceness:
Ne'er cast your child away for honesty;
Cure her first this way; then, if she will be
honest,

She has the path before her.

Jailor. Thank you, Doctor!

Doctor. Pray bring her in, and let's see how she is.

Jailor. I will, and tell her

Her Palamon stays for her: But, Doctor,
Methinks you are i'th' wrong still.

[Exit.

Doctor. Go, go! You fathers are fine fools: Her honesty?

An we should give her physic till we find thatWooer. Why, do you think she is not honest,

sir?

Doctor. How old is she?
Wooer. She's eighteen.
Doctor. She may be;

But that's all one, 'tis nothing to our purpose:
Whate'er her father says, if you perceive
Her mood inclining that way that I spoke of,
Videlicet, the way of flesh-you have me?

Wooer. Yes, very well, sir.
Doctor. Please her appetite,

And do it home; it cures her, ipso facto,
The melancholy humour that infects her.
Wooer. I am of your mind, Doctor.

Enter Jailor, Daughter, and Maid. Doctor. You'll find it so. She comes; pray humour her!

Jailor. Come; your love Palamon stays for you, child;

And has done this long hour, to visit you.

Daugh. I thank him for his gentle patience;

He's a kind gentleman, and I'm much bound to him.

Did you ne'er see the horse he gave me ?

Jailor. Yes.

Daugh. How do you like him?

Jailor. He's a very fair one.

Daugh. You never saw him dance?
Jailor. No.

Daugh. I have often;

He dances very finely, very comely;

And, for a jig, come cut and long tail to him! He turns you like a top.

Jailor. That's fine indeed.

Daugh. He'll dance the morris twenty mile
an hour.

And that will founder the best hobby-horse
(If I have any skill) in all the parish;
And gallops to the tune of Light o' love:
What think you of this horse?

Jailor. Having these virtues,

I think he might be brought to play at tennis. Daugh. Alas, that's nothing.

Jailor. Can he write and read too?

Daugh. A very fair hand; and casts himself th' accounts

Of all his hay and provender; that hostler Must rise betime that cozens him. You know The chesnut mare the duke has?

But this poor petticoat, and two coarse smocks. Wooer. That's all one; I will have you.

Daugh. Will you surely?

Wooer. Yes; by this fair hand, will I.
Daugh. We'll to-bed then.

Wooer. Even when you will.

Daugh. Oh, Sir, you'd fain be nibbling.

Wooer. Why do you rub my kiss off?
Daugh. 'Tis a sweet one,

And will perfume me finely 'gainst the wedding.
Is not this your cousin Arcite?

Doctor. Yes, sweetheart;

And I am glad my cousin Palamon
Has made so fair a choice.

Daugh. Do you think he'll have me?
Doctor. Yes, without doubt.

Daugh. Do you think so too?

Jailor. Yes.

Daugh. We shall have many children.—Lord,
how you're grown!

My Palamon I hope will grow too finely,
Now he's at liberty: Alas, poor chicken,
He was kept down with hard meat, and ill
lodging,

But I will kiss him up again.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. What do you here?

You'll lose the noblest sight that e'er was seen.
Jailor. Are they i'th' field?
Mess. They are:
You bear a charge there too.
Jailor. I'll away straight.

I must even leave you here.

Doctor. Nay, we'll go with you;

I will not lose the fight.

Jailor. How did you like her?

Doctor. I'll warrant you within these three or four days

I'll make her right again. You must not from her,

But still preserve her in this way.

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 punish'd
With what shall happen, ('gainst the which
there is

No deafing) but to hear, not taint mine eye
With dread sights it may shun.

Per. Sir, my good lord,
Your sister will no further.

Thes. Oh, she must:

She shall see deeds of honour in their kind, Which sometime shew well-pencil'd: Nature

now

Shall make and act the story, the belief

Stick misbecomingly on others, on him
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. Oh, what pity
Enough for such a chance! If I were by,

I might do hurt; for they would glance their

eyes

Toward my seat, and in that motion might
Omit a ward, or forfeit an offence,

Which craved that very time; it is much better [Cornets. Cry within, A Palamon!

I am not there; oh, better never born

present;

You are the victor's meed, the price and garland To crown the question's title.

Emi. Pardon me;

If I were there, I'd wink.

Thes. You must be there;

This trial is as 'twere i'th' night, and you The only star to shine.

Emi. I am extinct;

Thes. Well, well then, at your pleasure.

Those that remain with you could wish their office

To any of their enemies.

Hip. Farewell, sister!

I'm 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!

[Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLITA, PERITHOUS, &c.
Emi. 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 humours that

chance?

Enter a Servant.

Serv. The cry's a Palamon.
Emi. Then he has won.

'Twas ever likely : He look'd all grace and success, and he is Doubtless the primest of men. I prithee run, And tell me how it goes.

[Shout, and cornets; cry, A Palamon! Serv. Still Palamon.

Emi. Run and enquire. 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; Chance would have it so.

[Another cry and shout within, and cornets. On the sinister side the heart lies; Palamon Had the best-boding chance. This burst of clamour

Is sure the end o' th' combat.

Enter Servant.

Serv. They said that Palamon lad 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 tilters at this instant are
Hand to hand at it.

Emi. Were they metamorphos'd
Both into one-Oh, 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,

[Cornets. Cry within, Arcite, Arcite! To any lady breathing.-More exulting? Palamon still?

Serv. Nay, now the sound is Arcite. Emi. I prithee lay attention to the cry; [Cornets. A great shout, and cry, Arcite, victory! Set both thine ears to th' business.

Serv. The cry is

Arcite, and victory! Hark! Arcite, victory! The combat's consummation is proclaim'd By the wind-instruments.

Emi. Half-sights saw

That Arcite was no babe: God's 'lid, his rich

ness

And costliness of spirit look'd thro' 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 pro-
phets,

When oft our fancies are. They're coming off:
Alas, poor Palamon!
[Cornets.

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLITA, PERITHOUS, ARCITE as victor, attendants, &c.

Thes. Lo, where our sister is in expectation, Yet quaking, and unsettled. Fairest Emilia, The gods, by their divine arbitrament,

Have given you this knight: He is a good one
As ever struck at head. Give me your hands!
Receive you her, you him; be plighted with
A love that grows as you decay!

Arc. Emilia,

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 Hea-
vens 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. Hippolita,
I see one eye of yours conceives a tear,
The which it will deliver.

Em. Is this winning?

[Flourish.

We have by so considering; we expire,
And not without mens' pity; to live still,
Have their good wishes; we prevent
The loathsome misery of age, beguile
The gout and rheum, that in lag hours attend
For grey approachers; we come tow'rds the gods
Young, and unwarp'd, not halting under crimes
Many and stale; that sure shall please the gods
Sooner than such, to give us nectar with 'em,
For we are more clear spirits. My dear kinsmen,
Whose lives (for this poor comfort) are laid down,
You've sold 'em too, too cheap.

1 Knight. What ending could be
of more content? O'er us the victors have
Fortune, whose title is as momentary

As to us death is certain; a grain of honour
They not o'er-weigh us.

2 Knight. Let us bid farewell; And with our patience anger tott'ring Fortune, Who at her certain'st reels.

3 Knight. Come, who begins?

Pal. Even he that led you to this banquet, shall Taste to you all. Ah-ha, my friend, my friend! You'll see't done now for ever. Pray how does Your gentle Daughter gave me freedom once;

she?

I heard she was not well; her kind of ill Gave me some sorrow.

Jailor. Sir, she's well restor❜d, And to be married shortly.

Pal. By my short life,

I am most glad on't! 'tis the latest thing
I shall be glad of; prithee tell her so:
Commend me to her, and to piece her portion
Tender her this.

1 Knight. Nay, let's be offerers all.
2 Knight. Is it a maid?

Pal. Verily, I think so;

A right good creature, more to me deserving
Than I can quit or speak of.

All Knights. Commend us to her. [Give their purses. Jailor. The gods requite you all, And make her thankful! Pal. Adieu! and let my life be now as short As my leave-taking. [Lies on the block.

1 Knight. Lead, courageous cousin!

2 Knight. We'll follow cheerfully.

[A great noise within, crying, Run, save, hold! Enter in haste a Messenger.

Mess. Hold, hold! oh, hold, hold, hold!

Enter PERITHOUS in haste.

Per. Hold, hoa! it is a cursed haste you made, If you have done so quickly.-Noble Palamon, The gods will shew their glory in a life