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Arc. I've a good title,

I am persuaded: This question, sick between's, By bleeding must be cur'd. I am a suitor

That to your sword you will bequeath this plea, And talk of it no more.

Pal. But this one word:

You're going now to gaze upon my mistress;
For, note you, mine she is
Arc. Nay, then-

Pal. Nay, pray you !—

You talk of feeding me to breed me strength: You're going now to look upon a sun

That strengthens what it looks on; there you

have

A vantage o'er me; but enjoy it till

I may enforce my remedy. Farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE II.

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Enter Jailor's Daughter.

Daugh. He has mistook the beck I meant;

tis 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 halloo'd for him?
I cannot halloo; if I whoop'd, what then?

If he not answer'd, I should call a wolf,
And do him but that service. I have heard
Strange howls this live-long night; why may't
not be

They have made prey of him? He has no wea

pons;

He cannot run; the jingling of his gyves
Might call fell things to listen, who have in them
A sense to know a man unarm'd, and can
Smell where resistance is. I'll set it down
He's torn to pieces; they howl'd many together,
And then they d on him: So much for that!
Be bold to ring the bell; how stand I then?
All's char'd when he is gone. No, no, I lie;
My father's to be hang'd for his escape;
Myself to beg, if I priz❜d life so much
As to deny my act; but that I would not,
Should I try death by dozens!-I am mop'd:
Food took I none these two days,

Sipt some water; I've not clos'd mine eyes,
Save when my lids scour'd off their brine. Alas,
Dissolve, my life! let not my sense unsettle,
Lest I should drown, or stab, or hang myself!
Oh, state of Nature, fail together in me,
Since thy best props are warp'd-So! which way

now?

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Give me more wine: Here, Arcite, to the wenches We have known in our days! The lord-steward's daughter;

Do you remember her?

Arc. After you, coz.

Pal. She lov'd a black-hair'd man.

Arc. She did so: Well, sir?

Pal. And I have heard some call him Arcite; and

Arc. Out with it, faith!

Pal. She met him in an arbour:

What did she there, coz? Play o' th' virginals? Arc. Something she did, sir.

Pal. Made her groan a month for❜t;

Or two, or three, or ten.

Arc. The marshal's sister

Had her share too, as I remember, cousin,
Else there be tales abroad: You'll pledge her?
Pal. Yes.

Arc. 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!

Pal. For Emily, upon my life! Fool, Away with this strain'd mirth! I say again, That sigh was breath'd for Emily: Base cousin, Dar'st thou break first?

Arc. You're wide.

Pal. By Heav'n and earth, There's nothing in thee honest! Arc. Then I'll leave you:

You are a beast now.

Pal. As thou makʼst me, traitor.

Arc. 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.

Pal. A sword and armour?

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SCENE IV.

Enter Jailor's Daughter.

Daugh. I'm 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 Heav'n !-Where am I now ?-
Yonder's the sea, and there's a ship; how't tum-
bles!

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!
Up with her 'fore 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'm
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 cockle-shell, and sail

By east and north-east to the king of pigmies,
For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father,
Twenty to one, is truss'd up in a trice
To-morrow morning; I'll say never a word.

SONG.

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 and seek him, thro' the world that is so wide.

Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.

Oh, for a prick now like a nightingale,

To put my breast against! I shall sleep like a top else. [Exit.

SCENE V.

Enter GERROLD, four Countrymen ( and the Bavian,) two or three Wenches, with a Taborer. Ger. Fy, fy!

What tediosity and disensanity

Is here among ye! Have my rudiments
Been labour'd so long with ye, milk'd unto ye,
And, by a figure, ev'n the very plumb-broth
And marrow of my understanding laid upon ye,
And do ye still cry where, and how, and where-
fore?

Ye most coarse freeze capacities, ye sleave judgments,

Have I said thus let be, and there let be,
And then let be, and no man understand me?
Proh Deum, medius fidius; ye are all dunces!

Arc. Fear me not. You are now too foul: For why? here stand I; here the duke comes;

Farewell!

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!
1 Coun. And sweetly we will do it, master

Gerrold.

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her master.

Ger. Where be your ribands, maids? Swim with your bodies,

And carry it sweetly, and deliverly;
And now and then a favour, and a frisk!
Nell. Let us alone, sir.

Ger. Where's the rest o' th' music?

3 Coun. Dispers'd as you commanded.
Ger. Couple then,

And see what's wanting. Where's the Bavian?
My friend, carry your tail without offence
Or scandal to the ladies; and be sure
You tumble with audacity, and manhood!
And when you bark, do it with judgment.
Bav. Yes, sir.

Ger. Quo usque tandem? Here's a woman wanting.

4 Coun. We may go whistle; all the fat's i' th'

fire!

Ger. We have,

As learned authors utter, wash'd a tile;
We have been fatuus, and labour'd vainly.

2 Coun. 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 dog's skin!
Nay, an she fail me once-You can tell, Arcas,
She swore, by wine and bread, she would not
break.

Ger. 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.

I Coun. A fire ill take her! does she flinch now?

3 Coun. What

Shall we determine, sir?

Ger. Nothing;

Our business is become a nullity,

Yea, and a woeful, and a piteous nullity!

4 Coun. Now, when the credit of our town lay on it,

Now to be frampal, now to piss o' th' nettle!

VOL. I.

Go thy ways; I'll remember thee, I'll fit thee!

Enter Jailor's Daughter.

Daugh. 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 hail'd, well hail'd, you jolly gallants!
And whether now are you bound-a?
Oh, let me have your company

'Till I come to the Sound-a! There was three fools, fell out about an howlet: The one said 'twas an owl, The other he said nay, The third he said it was a hawk,

And her bells were cut away.

3 Coun. There is a dainty mad woman, magis

ter,

Comes i' th' nick; as mad as a March hare!
If we can get her dance, we're made again:
I warrant her, she'll do the rarest gambols!

1 Coun. A mad woman? We are made, boys!
Ger. And are you mad, good woman?
Daugh. I would be sorry else;

Give me your hand.

Ger. Why?

Daugh. I can tell your fortune:

You are a fool. Tell ten: I've poz'd him. Buz!
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.
Ger. Dui boni!

A tinker, damsel?

Daugh. Or a conjurer:
Raise me a devil now, and let him play
Quipassa, o' th' bells and bones!
Ger. Go, take her,

And fluently persuade her to a peace:
Atque opus exegi, quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignis---
Strike up, and lead her in!

2 Coun. Come, lass, let's trip it!
Daugh. I'll lead.

[Wind horns.

3 Coun. Do, do. Ger. Persuasively, and cunningly; away, boys! [Exeunt all but GERROLD. I hear the horns; Give me some meditation, And mark your cue. Pallas inspire me!

Enter THESEUS, PERITHOUS, Hippolita,
EMILIA, ARCITE, and Train.

Thes. This way the stag took.
Ger. Stay, and edify!

Thes. What have we here?

Per. Some country-sport, upon my life, sir. Thes. Well, sir, go forward; we will edify. Ladies, sit down; we'll stay it.

Ger. Thou doughty duke, all hail! all hail, sweet ladies!

Thes. This is a cold beginning.

Ger. If you but favour, our country pastime made is.

B

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Come, we are all made!

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 Dedalus, 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 glew'd 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 tenor:
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 welcome to their cost
The galled traveller, and with a beck'ning
Informs the tapster to inflame the reck'ning:
Then the beast-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.

Thes. Ay, ay, by any means, dear domine!
Per. Produce.

Ger. Intrate filii! Come forth, and foot it.

Enter Countrymen, &c. They dance,

Ladies, if we have been merry,
And have pleas'd ye with a derry,
And a derry, and a down,

Say the Schoolmaster's no clown.
Duke, if we have pleas'd 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.

Thes. Take twenty, domine!-How does my sweetheart?

Hip. Never so pleas'd, sir.

Emi. 'Twas an excellent dance; And, for a preface, I never heard a better. Thes. Schoolmaster, I thank you. One sce 'em all rewarded!

Per. And here's something to paint your pole withal,

Thes. Now to our sports again.

Ger. May the stag thou hunt'st stand long,
And thy dogs be swift and strong!
May they kill him without letts,
And the ladies eat's dowsets!

[Wind horns.

Dii Deaque omnes! ye have danc'd rarely, wenches. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Enter PALAMON from the bush.

Pal. About this hour my cousin gave his faith To visit me again, and with him bring

Two swords, and two good armours; 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 crest-fall'n with my wants: I thank thee,
Arcite,

Thou'rt yet a fair foe; and I feel myself,
With this refreshing, able once again
To out-dure 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! Oh, good-morrow!
Enter ARCITE, with armours and swords.

Arc. Good-morrow, noble kinsman !
Pal. I have put you
To too much pains, sir.

Arc. That too much, fair cousin,

Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.
Pal. '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.

Arc, I shall think either,

Well done, a noble recompense.
Pal. Then I shall quit you.

Arc. Defy me in these fair terms, and you

shew

More than a mistress to me: No more anger, As you love any thing that's honourable!

We were not bred to talk, man: when we're

arm'd,

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. Wilt please you
arm, sir?

Or if you feel yourself not fitting yet,
And furnish'd with your old strength, I'll stay,
cousin,

And every day discourse you into health,
As I am spar'd: your person I am friends with,
And I could wish I had not said I lov'd her,
Though I had died; but loving such a lady,
And justifying my love, I must not fly from't.
Pal. Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy,
That no man but thy cousin's fit to kill thee:

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Through far enough,

Arc. I warrant you.

Pal. My casque now.

Arc. Will you fight bare-arm'd?

Pal. We shall be the nimbler.

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say?

Pal. 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 killest me
The gods and I forgive thee! If there be
A place prepared for those that sleep in honour,
I wish his weary soul that falls may win it!
Fight bravely, cousin: give me thy noble hand!
Arc. Here, Palamon! this hand shall never

more

Come near thee with such friendship.

Pal, I commend thee.

Arc. If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward;

For none but such dare die in these just trials.

Arc. But use your gauntlets though: those Once more, farewell, my cousin!

are o' th' least;

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Pal. Farewell, Arcite!

[Fight. [Horns within: they stand. Arc. Lo, cousin, lo! our folly has undone us ! Pal. Why?

Arc. This is the duke, a-hunting, as I told you; If we be found, we're wretched! Oh, retire, For honour'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

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