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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

Both seal'd with eye and ear. You must be Than minister to such harm!-What is the

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;

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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, PERITIOUS, &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.

Sero. 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 had 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?

Sera. 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.

Sert. 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,

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Did not lose by't; for he that was thus good,
Encounter'd yet his better. I have heard
Two emulous Philomels beat the ear o'th' night
With their contentious throats, now one the
higher,

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.

Emi. Is this winning?

[Flourish.

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SCENE IV.

Enter PALAMON and his Knights pinion'd, Jailor, Executioner, and Guard.

Pal. There's many a man alive that hath outliv'd

The love o'th' people; yea, i'th' self-same state Stands many a father with his child: Some comfort

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

Fortune, whose title is as momentary

Of more content? O'er us the victors have

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!

Pul. Adieu! and let my life be now as short [Lies on the block As my leave-taking.

1 Knight. Lead, courageous cousin!
2 Knight. We'll follow cheerfully.

[4 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

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Hath wak'd us from our dream?

Per. List then! Your cousin,
Mounted upon a steed that Emily

Did first bestow on him, a black one, owing
Not a hair-worth of white, which some will say
Weakens his price, and many will not buy
His goodness with this note; which superstition
Here finds allowance: On this horse is Arcite,
Trotting the stones of Athens, which the calkins
Did rather tell than trample; for the horse
Would make his length a mile, if't pleas'd his
rider

To put pride in him: As he thus went counting
The flinty pavement, dancing as 'twere to th'

music

His own hoofs made (for, as they say, from iron
Came music's origin) what envious flint,
Cold as old Saturn, and like him possess'd
With fire malevolent, darted a spark,
Or what fierce sulphur else, to this end made,
I comment not; the hot horse, hot as fire,
Took toy at this, and fell to what disorder
His power could give his will, bounds, comes on
end,

Forgets school-doing, being therein train'd,
And of kind manage; pig-like he whines
At the sharp rowel, which he frets at rather
Than any jot obeys; seeks all foul means
Of boisterous and rough jadry, to dis-seat
His lord that kept it bravely: When nought
serv'd,

When neither curb would crack, girth break, nor diff'ring plunges

Dis-root his rider whence he grew, but that He kept him 'tween his legs, on his hind hoofs on end he stands,

That Arcite's legs being higher than his head, Seem'd with strange art to hang: His victor's wreath

Even then fell off his head; and presently
Backward the jade comes o'er, and his full poize
Becomes the rider's load. Yet is he living,
But such a vessel 'tis that floats but for
The surge that next approaches: He much de-
sires

To have some speech with you. Lo, he appears! Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLITA, EMILIA, ARCITE in a chair.

Pal. Oh, miserable end of our alliance! The gods are mighty!-Arcite, if thy heart, Thy worthy manly heart, be yet unbroken, Give me thy last words! I am Palamon,

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I sunder'd you: Acknowledge to the gods
Our thanks that you are living.

His part is play'd, and, though it were too short,
He did it well: Your day is lengthen'd, and
The blissful dew of Heaven does arrose you;
The powerful Venus well hath grac'd her altar,
And given you your love; our master Mars
Has vouch'd his oracle, and to Arcite gave
The grace of the contention: So the deities
Have shew'd due justice. Bear this hence!
Pal. Oh, cousin,

That we should things desire, which do cost us
The loss of our desire! that nought could buy
Dear love, but loss of dear love!

Thes. Never Fortune

Did play a subtler game: The conquer'd triumphs,
The victor has the loss; yet in the passage
The gods have been most equal. Palamon,
Your Kinsman hath confess'd the right o'the
lady

Did lie in you; for you first saw her, and
Even then proclaim'd your fancy; he restor'd
her,

As your stol'n jewel, and desir'd your spirit
To send him hence forgiven: The gods my jus-

tice

Take from my hand, and they themselves become
The executioners. Lead your lady off;
And call your lovers from the stage of death,
Whom I adopt my friends. A day or two
Let us look sadly, and give grace unto
The funeral of Arcite! in whose end
The visages of bridegrooms we'll put on,
And smile with Palamon; for whom an hour,
But one hour since, I was as dearly sorry,
As glad of Arcite; and am now as glad,
As for him sorry. Oh, you heav'nly charmers,
What things you make of us! For what we lack
We laugh, for what we have are sorry still;
Are children in some kind. Let us be thankful
For that which is, and with You leave dispute
That are above our question! Let's go off,
And bear us like the time. [Flourish, Exeunt.

10

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SCENE.-On the Frontiers of Armenia; and afterwards in the Metropolis of Iberia.

ACT I,

Enter MARDONIUS and BESsus, Mar. Bessus, the king has made a fair hand on't; he has ended the wars at a blow. 'Would my sword had a close basket hilt, to hold wine, and the blade would make knives; for we shall have nothing but eating and drinking.

Bes. We that are commanders shall do well enough.

Mar. Faith, Bessus, such commanders as thou may: I had as lieve set thee perdue for a pudding i'th' dark, as Alexander the Great.

Bes. I love these jests exceedingly.

Mar. I think thou lov'st 'em better than quarrelling, Bessus; I'll say so much in thy behalf. And yet thou'rt valiant enough upon a retreat: I think thou wouldst kill any man that stop d'thee, if thou couldst.

Bes. But was not this a brave combat, Mardonius?

VOL. I.

Mar. Why, didst thou see it?
Bes. You stood wi' me.

Mar. I did so; but methought thou wink'd'st every blow they struck.

Bes. Well, I believe there are better soldiers than I, that never saw two princes fight in lists.

Mar. By my troth, I think so too, Bessus; many a thousand: But, certainly, all that are worse than thou have seen as much.

Bcs, 'Twas bravely done of our king. Mar. Yes, if he had not ended the wars. I'm glad thou dar'st talk of such dangerous busi

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Bes. I could willingly venture for it. Mar. Hum! no venture neither, Bessus. Bes. Let me not live, if I do not think 'tis a braver piece of service than that I'm so fam'd for.

Mar. Why, art thou fam'd for any valour?
Bes. Fam'd? I warrant you.

Mar. I'm e'en heartily glad on't: I have been with thee e'er since thou cam'st to the wars, and this is the first word that ever I heard on't. Prithee, who fames thee?

Bes. The Christian world.

not hear it, Bessus. Here he is, with his prey in

his foot.

Enter ARBACES, TIGRANES, and two Gentle

men.

Arb. Thy sadness, brave Tigranes, takes away
From my full victory: Am I become
Of so small fame, that any man should grieve
When I o'ercome him? They, that plac'd me here,
Intended it an honour, large enough
For the most valiant living, but to dare
Oppose me single, though he lost the day.

Mar. 'Tis heathenishly done of 'em, in my What should afflict you? You're as free as I.

conscience: Thou deserv'st it not.

Bes. Yes, I ha' done good service. Mar. I do not know how thou may'st wait of a man in's chamber, or thy agility in shifting of a trencher; but otherwise no service, good Bes

sus.

Bes. You saw me do the service yourself. Mar. Not so hasty, sweet Bessus! Where was it? is the place vanish'd?

Bes. At Bessus' Desp'rate Redemption. Mar. At Bessus' Desp'rate Redemption! where's that?

Bes. There, where I redeem'd the day: the place bears my name.

Mar. Prithee, who christen'd it?

Bes. The soldiers.

Mar. If I were not a very merrily disposed man, what would become of thee? One that had but a grain of choler in the whole composition of his body, would send thee on an errand to the worins, for putting thy name upon that field: Did not I beat thee there, i'th' head, o'th' troops, with a truncheon, because thou wouldst needs run away with thy company, when we should charge the enemy?

Bes. True, but I did not run.

Mar. Right, Bessus: I beat thee out on't. Bes. But came I not up when the day was gone, and redeem'd all?

Mar. Thou knowest, and so do I, thou meant'st to fly, and thy fear making thee mistake, thou ran'st upon the enemy; and a hot charge thou gav'st; as, I'll do thee right, thou art furious in running away; and, I think, we owe thy fear for our victory. If I were the king, and were sure thou wouldst mistake always, and run away upon the enemy, thou shouldst be general, by this light.

Bes. You'll never leave this, till I fall foul. Mar. No more such words, dear Bessus; for though I have ever known thee a coward, and therefore durst never strike thee, yet, if thou proceed'st, I will allow thee valiant, and beat thee.

Bes. Come, our king's a brave fellow.

Mar. He is so, Bessus; I wonder how thou cam'st to know it. But, if thou wert a man of understanding, I would tell thee, he is vain-glorious and humble, and angry and patient, and merry and dull, and joyful and sorrowful, in extremity, in an hour. Do not think me thy friend, for this; for if I car'd who knew it, thou shouldst

To be my prisoner, is to be more free
Than you were formerly. And never think,
The man, I held worthy to combat me,
Shall be us'd servilely. Thy ransom is,
To take my only sister to thy wife:
A heavy one, Tigranes; for she is
A lady, that the neighbour princes send
Blanks to fetch home. I have been too unkind
To her, Tigranes: She, but nine years old,
I left her, and ne'er saw her since: Your wars
Have held me long, and taught me, though a
youth,

The way to victory. She was a pretty child;
Then, I was little better; but now fame
Cries loudly on her, and my messengers
Make me believe she is a miracle.
She'll make you shrink, as I did, with a stroke,
But of her eye, Tigranes.

Tigr. Is't the course
Of Iberia to use her prisoners thus?
Had fortune thrown my name above Arbaces',
I should not thus have talk'd, sir: In Armenia,
We hold it base. You should have kept your
temper

Till you saw home again, where 'tis the fashion, Perhaps, to brag.

Arb. Be you my witness, earth,
Need I to brag? Doth not this captive prince
Speak me sufficiently, and all the acts
That I have wrought upon his suffering land?
Should I then boast? Where lies that foot of
ground,

Within his whole realm, that I have not past,
Fighting and conquering? Far then from me
Be ostentation. I could tell the world,
How I have laid his kingdom desolate,
By this sole arm, prop'd by divinity;
Stript him out of his glories; and have sent
The pride of all his youth to people graves;
And made his virgins languish for their loves;
If I would brag. Should I, that have the pow'r
To teach the neighbour world humility,
Mix with vain-glory?

[Aside.

Mar. Indeed, this is none. Arb. Tigranes, nay, did I but take delight To stretch my deeds as others do, on words, I could amaze my hearers.

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