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twg_000000028500 | he i th blood-sized field lay swollen, Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, What you would do. HIPPOLYTA. Poor lady, say no more. I had as lief trace this good action with you As that whereto I am going, and never yet Went I so willing way. My lord is taken Heart-deep with your distress. Let him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028501 | consider; Ill speak anon. 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. There through my tears, Like wrinkled pebbles in a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028502 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028503 | pray you. Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in t, Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you were The ground-piece 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028504 | make a counter-reflect gainst My brothers heart and warm it to some pity, Though it were made of stone. Pray have good comfort. THESEUS. Forward to th temple! Leave not out a jot O th sacred ceremony. FIRST QUEEN. O, this celebration Will longer last and be more costly than Your suppliants war! Remember that your fame Knolls in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028505 | ear o th world; what you do quickly Is not done rashly; your first thought is more Than others laboured meditance, your premeditating More than their actions. But, O Jove, your actions, Soon as they move, as ospreys do the fish, Subdue before they touch. Think, dear Duke, think What beds our slain kings have! SECOND QUEEN. What griefs our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028506 | beds, That our dear lords have none! THIRD QUEEN. None fit for th dead. Those that with cords, knives, drams, precipitance, Weary of this worlds light, have to themselves Been deaths most horrid agents, human grace Affords them dust and shadow. FIRST QUEEN. But our lords Lie blistring fore the visitating sun, And were good kings when living. THESEUS. It | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028507 | is true, and I will give you comfort To give your dead lords graves; The which to do must make some work with Creon. FIRST QUEEN. And that work presents itself to th doing. Now twill take form; the heats are gone tomorrow. Then, bootless toil must recompense itself With its own sweat. Now hes secure, Not dreams we stand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028508 | before your puissance, Rinsing our holy begging in our eyes To make petition clear. SECOND QUEEN. Now you may take him, drunk with his victory. THIRD QUEEN. And his army full of bread and sloth. THESEUS. Artesius, that best knowest How to draw out fit to this enterprise The primst for this proceeding, and the number To carry such a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028509 | business: forth and levy Our worthiest instruments, whilst we dispatch This grand act of our life, this daring deed Of fate in wedlock. FIRST QUEEN. Dowagers, take hands. Let us be widows to our woes; delay Commends us to a famishing hope. ALL THE QUEENS. Farewell! SECOND QUEEN. We come unseasonably; but when could grief Cull forth, as unpanged judgement | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028510 | can, fittst time For best solicitation? THESEUS. Why, good ladies, This is a service, whereto I am going, Greater than any war; it more imports me Than all the actions that I have foregone, Or futurely can cope. FIRST QUEEN. The more proclaiming Our suit shall be neglected when her arms, Able to lock Jove from a synod, shall By | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028511 | warranting moonlight corselet thee. O, when Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou think Of rotten kings or blubbered queens? What care For what thou feelst not, what thou feelst being able To make Mars spurn his drum? O, if thou couch But one night with her, every hour in t will Take | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028512 | hostage of thee for a hundred, and Thou shalt remember nothing more than what That banquet bids thee to. HIPPOLYTA. Though much unlike You should be so transported, as much sorry I should be such a suitor, yet I think, Did I not, by th abstaining of my joy, Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit That craves a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028513 | present medcine, I should pluck All ladies scandal on me. Therefore, sir, [_She kneels._] As I shall here make trial of my prayers, Either presuming them to have some force, Or sentencing for aye their vigor dumb, Prorogue this business we are going about, and hang Your shield afore your heart, about that neck Which is my fee, and which | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028514 | I freely lend To do these poor queens service. ALL 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 Ill not dare To ask you anything, nor be so hardy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028515 | Ever to take a husband. THESEUS. Pray stand up. I am entreating of myself to do [_They rise._] That which you kneel to have me.Pirithous, Lead on the bride; get you and pray the gods For success and return; omit not anything In the pretended celebration.Queens, Follow your soldier. [_To Artesius._] As before, hence you, And at the banks of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028516 | Aulis meet us with The forces you can raise, where we shall find The moiety of a number for a business More bigger looked. [_Exit Artesius._] [_To Hippolyta._] Since that our theme is haste, I stamp this kiss upon thy currant lip; Sweet, keep it as my token. Set you forward, For I will see you gone. [_The wedding procession | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028517 | moves towards the temple._] Farewell, my beauteous sister.Pirithous, Keep the feast full; bate not an hour on t. PIRITHOUS. Sir, Ill follow you at heels. The feasts solemnity Shall want till your return. THESEUS. Cousin, I charge you, Budge not from Athens. We shall be returning Ere you can end this feast, of which I pray you Make no abatement. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028518 | Once more, farewell all. [_Exeunt all but Theseus and the Queens._] FIRST QUEEN. Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o th world. SECOND QUEEN. And earnst a deity equal with Mars. THIRD QUEEN. If not above him, for Thou, being but mortal, makst affections bend To godlike honours; they themselves, some say, Groan under such a mastry. THESEUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028519 | As we are men, Thus should we do; being sensually subdued, We lose our human title. Good cheer, ladies. Now turn we towards your comforts. [_Flourish. Exeunt._] SCENE II. Thebes. The Court of the Palace Enter Palamon and Arcite. ARCITE. Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood And our prime cousin, yet unhardened in The crimes of nature, let us | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028520 | leave the city Thebes, and the temptings in t, before we further Sully our gloss of youth And here to keep in abstinence we shame As in incontinence; for not to swim I th aid o th current, were almost to sink, At least to frustrate striving; and to follow The common stream, twould bring us to an eddy Where | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028521 | we should turn or drown; if labour through, Our gain but life and weakness. PALAMON. Your advice Is cried up with example. What strange ruins, Since first we went to school, may we perceive Walking in Thebes! Scars and bare weeds The gain o th martialist, who did propound To his bold ends honour and golden ingots, Which, though he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028522 | won, he had not, and now flirted By peace for whom he fought! Who then shall offer To Marss so-scorned altar? I do bleed When such I meet, and wish great Juno would Resume her ancient fit of jealousy To get the soldier work, that peace might purge For her repletion, and retain anew Her charitable heart, now hard and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028523 | harsher Than strife or war could be. ARCITE. Are you not out? Meet you no ruin but the soldier in The cranks and turns of Thebes? You did begin As if you met decays of many kinds. Perceive you none that do arouse your pity But th unconsidered soldier? PALAMON. Yes, I pity Decays whereer I find them, but such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028524 | most That, sweating in an honourable toil, Are paid with ice to cool em. ARCITE. Tis not this I did begin to speak of. This is virtue Of no respect in Thebes. I spake of Thebes, How dangerous, if we will keep our honours, It is for our residing, where every evil Hath a good colour; where every seeming goods | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028525 | A certain evil; where not to be een jump As they are here were to be strangers, and, Such things to be, mere monsters. PALAMON. Tis in our power Unless we fear that apes can tutor sto Be masters of our manners. What need I Affect anothers gait, which is not catching Where there is faith? Or to be fond | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028526 | upon Anothers way of speech, when by mine own I may be reasonably conceived, saved too, Speaking it truly? Why am I bound By any generous bond to follow him Follows his tailor, haply so long until The followed make pursuit? Or let me know Why mine own barber is unblessed, with him My poor chin too, for tis not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028527 | scissored just To such a favourites glass? What canon is there That does command my rapier from my hip To dangle t in my hand, or to go tiptoe Before the street be foul? Either I am The fore-horse in the team, or I am none That draw i th sequent trace. These poor slight sores Need not a plantain; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028528 | that which rips my bosom Almost to th hearts ARCITE. Our uncle Creon. PALAMON. He. A most unbounded tyrant, whose successes Makes heaven unfeared and villainy assured Beyond its power theres nothing; almost puts Faith in a fever, and deifies alone Voluble chance; who only attributes The faculties of other instruments To his own nerves and act; commands men service, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028529 | And what they win in t, boot and glory; one That fears not to do harm; good, dares not. Let The blood of mine thats sib to him be sucked From me with leeches; let them break and fall Off me with that corruption. ARCITE. Clear-spirited cousin, Lets leave his court, that we may nothing share Of his loud infamy; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028530 | for our milk Will relish of the pasture, and we must Be vile or disobedient; not his kinsmen In blood unless in quality. PALAMON. Nothing truer. I think the echoes of his shames have deafed The ears of heavenly justice. Widows cries Descend again into their throats and have not Due audience of the gods. Enter Valerius. Valerius! VALERIUS. The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028531 | King calls for you; yet be leaden-footed Till his great rage be off him. Phbus, when He broke his whipstock and exclaimed against The horses of the sun, but whispered to The loudness of his fury. PALAMON. Small winds shake him. But whats the matter? VALERIUS. Theseus, who where he threats appalls, hath sent Deadly defiance to him and pronounces | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028532 | Ruin to Thebes, who is at hand to seal The promise of his wrath. ARCITE. Let him approach. But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not A jot of terror to us. Yet what man Thirds his own worththe case is each of ours When that his actions dregged with mind assured Tis bad he goes about? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028533 | PALAMON. Leave that unreasoned. Our services stand now for Thebes, not Creon. Yet to be neutral to him were dishonour, Rebellious to oppose; therefore we must With him stand to the mercy of our fate, Who hath bounded our last minute. ARCITE. So we must. [_To Valerius._] Is t said this wars afoot? Or, it shall be, On fail of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028534 | some condition? VALERIUS. Tis in motion; The intelligence of state came in the instant With the defier. PALAMON. Lets to the King; who, were he A quarter carrier of that honour which His enemy come in, the blood we venture Should be as for our health, which were not spent, Rather laid out for purchase. But alas, Our hands advanced | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028535 | before our hearts, what will The fall o th stroke do damage? ARCITE. Let th event, That never-erring arbitrator, tell us When we know all ourselves; and let us follow The becking of our chance. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Before the gates of Athens Enter Pirithous, Hippolyta and Emilia. PIRITHOUS. No further. HIPPOLYTA. Sir, farewell. Repeat my wishes To our great | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028536 | lord, of whose success I dare not Make any timorous question; yet I wish him Excess and overflow of power, an t might be, To dure ill-dealing fortune. Speed to him! Store never hurts good governors. PIRITHOUS. Though I know His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they Must yield their tribute there. My precious maid, Those best affections | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028537 | 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 Ill solicit; and Since in our terrene state petitions are not Without gifts understood, Ill offer to her What I shall be advised she likes. Our hearts Are in his army, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028538 | in his tent. HIPPOLYTA. In s bosom. We have been soldiers, and we cannot weep When our friends don their helms, or put to sea, Or tell of babes broached on the lance, or women That have sod their infants inand after eat them The brine they wept at killing em. Then if You stay to see of us such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028539 | spinsters, we Should hold you here for ever. PIRITHOUS. Peace be to you As I pursue this war, which shall be then Beyond further requiring. [_Exit Pirithous._] 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028540 | one business in his hand, another Directing in his head, his mind nurse equal To these so differing twins. Have you observed him Since our great lord departed? HIPPOLYTA. With much labour, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028541 | roaring tyranny and power I th least of these was dreadful; and they have Fought out together where Deaths 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028542 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028543 | 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 judgement, and their needs The one of th other may be said to water Their intertangled roots of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028544 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028545 | would pluck And put between my breasts, O, then but beginning To swell about the blossomshe would long Till she had such another, and commit it To the like innocent cradle, where, phnix-like, They died in perfume. On my head no toy But was her pattern; her affectionspretty, Though haply her careless wearI followed For my most serious decking; had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028546 | mine ear Stoln some new air, or at adventure hummed one From musical coinage, why, it was a note Whereon her spirits would sojournrather, dwell on, And sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsal, Which fury-innocent wots well, comes in Like old importments bastardhas this end, That the true love tween maid and maid may be More than in sex | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028547 | individual. HIPPOLYTA. Youre out of breath; And this high-speeded pace is but to say That you shall never, like the maid Flavina, Love any thats 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028548 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028549 | EMILIA. I am not Against your faith, yet I continue mine. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. A field before Thebes. Cornets. A battle struck within; then a retreat. Flourish. Then enter, Theseus, as victor, with a Herald, other Lords, and Soldiers. The three Queens meet him and fall on their faces before him. FIRST QUEEN. To thee no star be dark! SECOND | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028550 | QUEEN. Both heaven and earth Friend thee for ever! THIRD QUEEN. All the good that may Be wished upon thy head, I cry Amen to t! THESEUS. Th impartial gods, who from the mounted heavens View us their mortal herd, behold who err And, in their time, chastise. Go and find out The bones of your dead lords and honour | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028551 | them With treble ceremony, rather than a gap Should be in their dear rites, we would supply t, But those we will depute which shall invest You in your dignities and even each thing Our haste does leave imperfect. So, adieu, And heavens good eyes look on you. [_Exeunt Queens._] Enter a Herald and Soldiers bearing Palamon and Arcite on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028552 | hearses. What are those? HERALD. Men of great quality, as may be judged By their appointment. Some of Thebes have told s They are sisters children, nephews to the King. THESEUS. By th helm of Mars, I saw them in the war, Like to a pair of lions, smeared with prey, Make lanes in troops aghast. I fixed my note | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028553 | Constantly on them, for they were a mark Worth a gods view. What prisoner was t that told me When I enquired their names? HERALD. Wi leave, theyre called Arcite and Palamon. THESEUS. Tis right; those, those. They are not dead? HERALD. Nor in a state of life. Had they been taken When their last hurts were given, twas possible | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028554 | They might have been recovered; yet they breathe And have the name of men. THESEUS. Then like men use em. The very lees of such, millions of rates, Exceed the wine of others. All our surgeons Convent in their behoof; our richest balms, Rather than niggard, waste. Their lives concern us Much more than Thebes is worth. Rather than have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028555 | em Freed of this plight, and in their morning state, Sound and at liberty, I would em dead; But forty-thousandfold we had rather have em Prisoners to us than death. Bear em speedily From our kind air, to them unkind, and minister What man to man may do, for our sake, more, Since I have known frights, fury, friends behests, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028556 | Loves provocations, zeal, a mistress task, Desire of liberty, a fever, madness, Hath set a mark which nature could not reach to Without some imposition, sickness in will Oer-wrestling strength in reason. For our love And great Apollos mercy, all our best Their best skill tender. Lead into the city, Where, having bound things scattered, we will post To Athens | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028557 | fore our army. [_Flourish. Exeunt._] SCENE V. Another part of the same, more remote from Thebes Music. Enter the Queens with the hearses of their knights, in a funeral solemnity, &c. SONG. _Urns and odours bring away; Vapours, sighs, darken the day; Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms and gums and heavy cheers, Sacred vials filled with tears, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028558 | And clamours through the wild air flying._ _Come, all sad and solemn shows That are quick-eyed Pleasures foes; We convent naught else but woes. We convent naught else but woes._ THIRD QUEEN. This funeral path brings to your households grave. Joy seize on you again; peace sleep with him. SECOND QUEEN. And this to yours. FIRST QUEEN. Yours this way. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028559 | Heavens lend A thousand differing ways to one sure end. THIRD QUEEN. This worlds a city full of straying streets, And deaths the market-place where each one meets. [_Exeunt severally._] ACT II SCENE I. Athens. A garden, with a castle in the background Enter Jailer and Wooer. JAILER. I may depart with little while I live; something I may cast | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028560 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028561 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028562 | of her? When that shall be seen, I tender my consent. Enter the Jailers Daughter, carrying rushes. WOOER. I have sir. Here she comes. JAILER. 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028563 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028564 | 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 sufferers. I marvel how they would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028565 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028566 | but nothing of their own restraint and disasters. Yet sometime a divided sigh, martyred as twere i th deliverance, will break from one of themwhen 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028567 | Duke himself came privately in the night, and so did they. Enter Palamon and Arcite, above. What the reason of it is, I know not. Look, yonder they are; thats Arcite looks out. DAUGHTER. No, sir, no, thats Palamon. Arcite is the lower of the twain; you may perceive a part of him. JAILER. Go to, leave your pointing; they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028568 | would not make us their object. Out of their sight. DAUGHTER. It is a holiday to look on them. Lord, the difference of men! [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The prison Enter Palamon and Arcite in prison. PALAMON. How do you, noble cousin? ARCITE. How do you, sir? PALAMON. Why, strong enough to laugh at misery And bear the chance of war; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028569 | yet we are prisoners I fear for ever, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028570 | of honour, Hung with the painted favours 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 peoples praises, won the garlands, Ere they have time to wish em ours. O, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028571 | never Shall we two exercise, like twins of honour, Our arms again, and feel our fiery horses Like proud seas under us! Our good swords now Better the red-eyed god of war neer 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028572 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028573 | our necks; no issue know us, No figures of ourselves shall we eer 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028574 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028575 | To our Theban hounds That shook the aged forest with their echoes No more now must we hallow, 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028576 | Which is the curse of honour, 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028577 | 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 alls done. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028578 | ARCITE. Shall we make worthy uses of this place That all men hate so much? PALAMON. How, gentle cousin? ARCITE. Lets think this prison holy sanctuary, To keep us from corruption of worse men. We are young and yet desire the ways of honour; That liberty and common conversation, The poison of pure spirits, might like women, Woo us to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028579 | 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 anothers 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028580 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028581 | 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 Arcitealmost wanton With my captivity. What a misery It is to live abroad and everywhere! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028582 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028583 | 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 peoples curses. Shall I say more? ARCITE. I would hear you still. PALAMON. Ye shall. Is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028584 | 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. Speak on, sir. EMILIA. This garden | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028585 | has a world of pleasures int. 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. Pray, forward. PALAMON. Yes. EMILIA. Or were they all hard-hearted? WOMAN. They could not be to one so fair. EMILIA. Thou wouldst not. WOMAN. I think | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028586 | I should not, madam. EMILIA. Thats a good wench. But take heed to your kindness, though. WOMAN. Why, madam? EMILIA. Men are mad things. ARCITE. Will ye go forward, cousin? EMILIA. Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench? WOMAN. Yes. EMILIA. Ill have a gown full of em, and of these. This is a pretty colour; will t | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028587 | not do Rarely upon a skirt, wench? WOMAN. Dainty, madam. ARCITE. Cousin, cousin! How do you, sir? Why, Palamon! PALAMON. Never till now I was in prison, Arcite. ARCITE. Why, whats the matter, man? PALAMON. Behold, and wonder! By heaven, she is a goddess. ARCITE. Ha! PALAMON. Do reverence. She is a goddess, Arcite. EMILIA. Of all flowers, Methinks a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028588 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028589 | base briers. WOMAN. Yet, good madam, Sometimes her modesty will blow so far She falls for t. A maid, If she have any honour, would be loath To take example by her. EMILIA. Thou art wanton. ARCITE. She is wondrous fair. PALAMON. She is all the beauty extant. EMILIA. The sun grows high; lets walk in. Keep these flowers. Well | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028590 | see how near art can come near their colours. I am wondrous merry-hearted. I could laugh now. WOMAN. I could lie down, I am sure. EMILIA. And take one with you? WOMAN. Thats as we bargain, madam. EMILIA. Well, agree then. [_Exeunt Emilia and Woman._] PALAMON. What think you of this beauty? ARCITE. Tis a rare one. PALAMON. Ist but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028591 | 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 fort! 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028592 | ARCITE. Thats 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028593 | 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 lovest her, Or entertainst a hope to blast my wishes, Thou art a traitor, Arcite, and a fellow False as thy title to her. Friendship, blood, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028594 | 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 ye, farewell, Palamon. I say again, I love, and in loving her maintain I am as worthy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028595 | and as free a lover And have as just a title to her beauty, As any Palamon, or any living That is a mans 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? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028596 | 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. Ye 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028597 | 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 honour 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028598 | 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 truely. ARCITE. Fie, sir! You play the child extremely. I will love her; I must, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000028599 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
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