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THE

BRITISH DRAMA.

THE

TWO NOBLE KINSMEN,

BY

SHAKESPEARE AND FLETCHER.

PROLOGUE.

[Flourish.

NEW plays and maidenheads are near akin;
Much followed both, for both much money gi'n,
If they stand sound and well: and a good play
(Whose modest scenes blush on his marriage-day,
And shake to lose his honour) is like her
That after holy tie, and first night's stir,
Yet still is modesty, and still retains
More of the maid to sight, than husband's pains.
We pray our play may be so; for I'm sure
It has a noble breeder, and a pure,
A learned, and a poet never went
More famous yet 'twixt Po, and silver Trent:
Chaucer (of all admired) the story gives;
There constant to eternity it lives!
If we let fall the nobleness of this,

And the first sound this child hear be a hiss,
How will it shake the bones of that good man,
And make him cry from under-ground, "Oh, fan

"From me the witless chaff of such a writer,
"That blasts my bays, and my famed works makes
lighter

"Than Robin Hood!" This is the fear we bring;
For, to say truth, it were an endless thing,
And too ambitious, to aspire to him.
Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim
In this deep water, do but you hold out
Your helping hands, and we shall tack about,
And something do to save us; you shall hear
Scenes, though below his art, may yet appear
Worth two hours travel.-To his bones sweet
sleep!

Content to you!-If this play do not keep
A little dull time from us, we perceive
Our losses fall so thick, we must needs leave.
[Flourish.

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ROSES, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,
But in their hue;
Maiden-pinks, of odour faint;
Daisies smell-less, yet more quaint,
And sweet thyme true.

Primrose, first-born child of Ver,
Merry spring-time's harbinger,
With her bells dim;
Oxlips in their cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
Lark-heels trim.

All dear Nature's children sweet,
Lye 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet,
Blessing their sense! [Strew flowers.

Not an angel of the air,

Bird melodious, or bird fair,

Be absent hence!

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough hoar,
Nor chatt'ring pie,

May on our bridehouse perch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring,
But from it fly!

Enter three Queens, in black, with veils stained, with imperial crowns. The first Queen falls down at the feet of THESEUS; the second falls down at the foot of HIPPOLITA; the third before EMILIA.

1 Queen. For pity's sake, and true gentility's, Hear and respect me!

2 Queen. For your mother's sake, And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair

ones,

Hear and respect me!

3 Queen. Now for the love of him whom Jove hath marked

The honour of your bed, and for the sake
Of clear virginity, be advocate

For us, and our distresses! This good deed
Shall raze you out o' the book of trespasses
All you are set down there.

Thes. Sad lady, rise.

Hipp. Stand up.

Emi. No knees to me! What woman I May sted, that is distressed, does bind me to her. Thes. What's your request? Deliver you, for all. 1 Queen. We are three Queens, whose sovereigns fell before

The wrath of cruel Creon; who endured The beaks of ravens, talons of the kites, And pecks of crows, in the foul fields of Thebes. He will not suffer us to burn their bones, To urn their ashes, nor to take the offence | Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye Of holy Phoebus, but infects the winds With stench of our slain lords. Oh, pity, duke! Thou purger of the earth, draw thy fear'd sword, That does good turns to the world; give us the

bones

Of our dead kings, that we may chapel them! And, of thy boundless goodness, take some note, That for our crowned heads we have no roof Save this, which is the lion's and the bear's, And vault to every thing!

Thes. Pray you, kneel not.

I was transported with your speech, and suffer'd Your knees to wrong themselves. I've heard the fortunes

Of your dead lords, which gives me such lamenting
As wakes my vengeance and revenge for them.
King Capaneus was your lord: the day
That he should marry you, at such a season
As now it is with me, I met your groom
By Mars's altar; you were that time fair,
Not Juno's mantle fairer than your tresses,
Nor in more bounty spread; your wheaten wreath
Was then nor thresh'd, nor blasted; Fortune at
you

Dimpled her cheek with smiles; Hercules our kinsman

(Then weaker than your eyes) laid by his club, He tumbled down upon his Nemean hide, And swore his sinews thaw'd: Oh! grief and time,

Fearful consumers, you will all devour!

1 Queen. Oh, I hope some god, Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood, Whereto he'll infuse power, and press you forth Our undertaker!

Thes. Oh, no knees, none, widow! Unto the helmeted Bellona use them, And pray for me, your soldier.-Troubled I am. [Turns away.

2 Queen. Honoured Hippolita, Most dreaded Amazonian, that has slain The scithe-tusk'd boar; that, with thy arm as

strong

As it is white, wast near to make the male
To thy sex captive; but that this thy lord
(Born to uphold creation in that honour
First Nature styled it in) shrunk thee into
The bound thou wast o'er-flowing, at once sub-
duing

Thy force, and thy affection; soldieress,
That equally canst poise sternness with pity,
Who now, I know, hast much more power on
him

Than e'er he had on thee; who owest his strength,
And his love too, who is a servant to
The tenor of thy speech; dear glass of ladies,
Bid him that we whom flaming war doth scorch,
Under the shadow of his sword may cool us!
Require him he advance it o'er our heads;
Speak't in a woman's key, like such a woman
As any of us three; weep ere you fail;
Lend us a knee;

But touch the ground for us no longer time Than a dove's motion, when the head's pluck'd off!

Tell him, if he i'the blood-sized field lay swoln, Shewing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, What you would do!

Hip. Poor lady, say no more!

I had as lief trace this good action with you
As that whereto I'm going, and never yet
Went I so willing way. My lord is taken
Heart deep with your distress: let him consider;
I'll speak anon.

3 Queen. Oh, my petition was [Kneels to EMILIA. Set down in ice, which, by hot grief uncandied, Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form, Is pressed with deeper matter. Emi. Pray stand up;

Your grief is written in your cheek.

3 Queen. Oh, woe!

You cannot read it there; here through my tears,
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,
You may behold them! Lady, lady, alack,
He that will all the treasure know o' the earth
Must know the centre too; he that will fish
For my least minnow, let him lead his line
To catch one at my heart. Oh, pardon me :
Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,
Makes me a fool.

Emi. Pray you, say nothing; 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,

To 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 make a counter-reflect 'gainst
My brother's heart, and warm it to some pity,
Though it were made of stone: pray have good
comfort!

Thes. Forward to the temple: leave not out a jot

O' the sacred ceremony.

1 Queen. Oh, this celebration

Will longer last, and be more costly than
Your suppliants' war! Remember that your fame
Knolls in the ear o' the world: What you do

quickly

Is not done rashly; your first thought is more Than others' labour'd meditance; your premeditating

More than their actions; but, (oh Jove!) your actions,

Soon as they move, as osprays do the fish, Subdue before they touch: think, dear duke, think

What beds our slain kings have!

2 Queen. What griefs our beds, That our dear lords have none !

3 Queen. None fit for the dead:

Those that with cords, knives, drams, precipitance, Weary of this world's light, have to themselves Been death's most horrid agents, human grace Affords them dust and shadow.

1 Queen. But our lords

Lie blistering 'fore the visitating sun, And were good kings when living.

Thes. It is true;

And I will give you comfort,

To give your dead lords graves:

The which to do must make some work with

Creon.

1 Queen. And that work now presents itself to

the doing:

Now 'twill take form; the heats are gone to- With that celerity and nature, which

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Thes. Artesius, that best knowest
How to draw out, fit to this enterprisc

The primest for this proceeding, and the number
To carry such a business; forth and levy
Our worthiest instruments; whilst we dispatch
This grand act of our life, this daring deed
Of fate and wedlock!

1 Queen. Dowagers, take hands!
Let us be widows to our woes! Delay
Commends us to a famishing hope.
All. Farewell!

2 Queen. We come unseasonably; but when
could Grief

Cull forth, as unpang'd Judgment can, fit'st time For best solicitation?

Thes. 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.

1 Queen. The more proclaiming
Our suit shall be neglected: When her arms,
Able to lock Jove from a synod, shall
By warranting moon-light corslet thee, oh, when
Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall
Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou think
Of rotten kings, or blubber'd queens? what care
For what thou feel'st not, what thou feel'st being
able

To make Mars spurn his drum? Oh, if thou couch
But one night with her, every hour in't will
Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and
Thou shalt remember nothing more than what
That banquet bids thee to.

Hip. 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 present med'cine, I should pluck
All ladies' scandal on me: Therefore, sir,
As I shall here make trial of my prayers,
Either presuming them to have some force,
Or sentencing for ay their vigour dumb,
Prorogue this business we are going about, and
hang

Your shield afore your heart, about that neck
Which is my fee, and which I freely lend

To do these poor queens service.

All Queens. Oh, help now!

Our cause cries for your knee.
Emi. If you grant not

My sister her petition, in that force,

She makes it in, from henceforth I'll not dare
To ask you any thing, nor be so hardy
Ever to take a husband.

Thes. Pray stand up;

I am entreating of myself to do

That which you kneel to have me. Perithous,
Lead on the bride! Get you, and pray the gods
For success and return; omit not any thing
In the pretended celebration. Queens,
Follow your soldier (as before;) hence you,
And at the banks of Aulis meet us with
The forces you can raise, where we shall find
The moiety of a number, for a business
More bigger look'd.-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.

[Exeunt towards the Temple.
Farewell, my beauteous sister! Perithous,
Keep the feast full; bate not an hour on't!
Per. Sir,

I'll follow you at heels: the feast's solemnity
Shall want till your return.

Thes. 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. Once more, farewell all!

1 Queen. Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o' the world.

2 Queen. And earn'st a deity equal with Mars. 3 Queen. If not above him; for, Thou being but mortal, mak'st affections bend To godlike honours; they themselves, some say, Groan under such a mastery.

Thes. As we are men,

Thus should we do; being sensually subdued, We lose our humane title. Good cheer, ladies! [Flourish. Now turn we towards your comforts. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter PALAMON and ARCITE.

Arc. Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood,
And our prime cousin, yet unharden'd in
The crimes of nature; let us 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' the head o' the current, were almost to sink,
At least to frustrate striving: and to follow
The common stream, 'twould bring us to an eddy
Where we should turn or drown; if labour
through,

Our gain but life, and weakness.

Pal. 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' the martialist, who did propound To his bold ends, honour, and golden ingots,

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