Exit
3.5
Enter Gerald (a schoolmaster), five Countrymen, one of whom is dressed as a Babion, five Wenches, and Timothy, a taborer. All are attired as morris dancers
SCHOOLMASTER Fie, fie,
What tediosity and disinsanity
Is here among yet Have my rudiments
Been laboured so long with ye, milked unto ye,
And, by a figure, even the very plum-broth
And marrow of my understanding laid upon ye?
And do you still cry ‘where?’ and ‘how?’ and
‘wherefore?’
You most coarse frieze capacities, ye jean judgements,
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.
Forwhy, here stand I. Here the Duke comes. There are
you,
Close in the thicket. The Duke appears. I meet him,
And unto him I utter learnèd 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.
FIRST COUNTRYMAN
And sweetly we will do it, master Gerald.
SECOND COUNTRYMAN
Draw up the company. Where’s the taborer?
THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Why, Timothy!
TABORER Here, my mad boys, have at ye!
SCHOOLMASTER
But I say, where’s these women?
FOURTH COUNTRYMAN Here’s Friz and Madeline.
SECOND COUNTRYMAN
And little Luce with the white legs, and bouncing Barbara.
FIRST COUNTRYMAN
And freckled Nell, that never failed her master.
SCHOOLMASTER
Where be your ribbons, 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.
SCHOOLMASTER
Where’s the rest o’th’ music?
THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Dispersed as you commanded.
SCHOOLMASTER
Couple, then,
And see what’s wanting. Where’s the babion?
(
To the Babion
) 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 judgement.
BABION Yes, sir.
SCHOOLMASTER
Quousque tandem
? Here is a woman wanting!
FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
We may go whistle—all the fat’s i’th’ fire.
SCHOOLMASTER We have,
As learned authors utter, washed a tile;
We have been fatuus, and laboured vainly.
SECOND COUNTRYMAN
This is that scornful piece, that scurvy hilding
That gave her promise faithfully she would be here—
Cicely, the seamstress’ daughter.
The next gloves that I give her shall be dogskin.
Nay, an she fail me once—you can tell, Areas,
She swore by wine and bread she would not break.
SCHOOLMASTER 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.
FIRST COUNTRYMAN
A fire-ill take her! Does she flinch now?
THIRD COUNTRYMAN What
Shall we determine, sir?
SCHOOLMASTER
Nothing;
Our business is become a nullity,
Yea, and a woeful and a piteous nullity.
FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Now, when the credit of our town lay on it,
Now to be frampold, now to piss o’th’ nettle!
Go thy ways—I’ll remember thee, I’ll fit thee!
Enter the Jailer’s Daughter
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
(sings)
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 hailed, well hailed, you jolly gallants,
And whither now are you bound-a?
O let me have your company
Till I come to the sound-a.’
There was three fools fell out about an owlet—
The one he said it was an owl,
The other he said nay,
The third he said it was a hawk,
And her bells were cut away.
THIRD COUNTRYMAN
There’s a dainty madwoman, master,
Comes i’th’ nick, as mad as a March hare.
If we can get her dance, we are made again.
I warrant her, she’ll do the rarest gambols.
FIRST COUNTRYMAN
A madwoman? We are made, boys.
SCHOOLMASTER
(to the Jailer’s Daughter)
And are you mad, good woman?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
I would be sorry else.
Give me your hand.
SCHOOLMASTER
Why?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
I can tell your fortune.
You are a fool. Tell ten—I have posed him. Buzz!
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.
SCHOOLMASTER
Dii boni—
A tinker, damsel?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
Or a conjurer—
Raise me a devil now and let him play
Qui passa o’th’ bells and bones.
SCHOOLMASTER
Go, take her,
And fluently persuade her to a peace.
Et opus exegi, quod nec Iovis ira, nec ignis—
Strike up, and lead her in.
SECOND COUNTRYMAN
Come, lass, let’s trip it.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER I’ll lead.
THIRD COUNTRYMAN Do, do.
SCHOOLMASTER
Persuasively and cunningly—
away, boys,
I hear the horns. Give me some meditation,
And mark your cue.
Exeunt all but Gerald the Schoolmaster
Pallas inspire me.
Enter Theseus, Pirithous, Hippolyta, Emilia, Arcite, and train
THESEUS This way the stag took.
SCHOOLMASTER Stay and edify.
THESEUS What have we here?
PIRITHOUS
Some country sport, upon my life, sir.
THESEUS (
to the Schoolmaster
)
Well, sir, go forward—we will edify.
Ladies, sit down—we’ll stay it.
They sit:
⌈
theseus
⌉
in a chair, the others on stools
SCHOOLMASTER
Thou doughty Duke, all hail! All hail, sweet ladies.
THESEUS This is a cold beginning.
SCHOOLMASTER
If you but favour, our country pastime made is.
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 Daedalus, 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 ‘Moor’—of mickle weight—
‘Ice’ now comes in, which, being glued 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 welcomes, to their cost,
The galled traveller, and with a beck’ning
Informs the tapster to inflame the reck‘ning;
Then the beest-eating Clown; and next, the Fool;
The babion with long tail and eke long tool,
Cum multis aliis that make a dance—
Say ‘ay’, and all shall presently advance.
THESEUS
Ay, ay, by any means, dear dominie.
PIRITHOUS Produce.
SCHOOLMASTER
(knocks for the dance)
Intrate filii, come forth and foot it.
⌈
He flings up his cap.
⌉
Music.
⌈
The Schoolmaster ushers in
May Lord,
Servingman,
A Country Clown,
or Shepherd,
An Host,
A He-babion,
May Lady.
Chambermaid.
Country Wench.
Hostess
.
She-babion.
A He-fool, The Jailer’s Daughter as
She-fool.
All these persons apparelled to the life, the men
issuing out of one door and the wenches from the
other. They dance a morris
⌉
Ladies, if we have been merry,
And have pleased ye with a derry,
And a derry, and a down,
Say the schoolmaster’s no clown.
Duke, if we have pleased 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.
THESEUS
Take twenty, dominie.
(To Hippolyta)
How does my sweetheart?
HIPPOLYTA
Never so pleased, sir.
EMILIA
’Twas an excellent dance,
And for a preface, I never heard a better.
THESEUS
Schoolmaster, I thank you. One see ’em all rewarded.
PIRITHOUS
And here’s something to paint your pole withal.
THESEUS Now to our sports again.
SCHOOLMASTER
May the stag thou hunt’st stand long,
And thy dogs be swift and strong;
May they kill him without lets,
And the ladies eat his dowsets.
Exeunt Theseus and train. Wind horns within
Come, we are all made.
Dii deaeque omnes
,
Ye have danced rarely, wenches.
Exeunt
3.6
Enter Palamon from the bush
PALAMON
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 art 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!
Enter Arcite with two armours and two swords
O, good morrow.
ARCITE
Good morrow, noble kinsman.
PALAMON
I have put you
To too much pains, sir.
ARCITE
That too much, fair cousin,
Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.