William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (593 page)
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Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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THESEUS
Pray speak him, friend.
PIRITHOUS
I guess he is a prince too,
And, if it may be, greater—for his show
Has all the ornament of honour in’t.
He’s somewhat bigger than the knight he spoke of,
But of a face far sweeter. His complexion
Is as a ripe grape, ruddy. He has felt,
Without doubt, what he fights for, and so apter
To make this cause his own. In’s face appears
All the fair hopes of what he undertakes,
And when he’s angry, then a settled valour,
Not tainted with extremes, runs through his body
And guides his arm to brave things. Fear he cannot—
He shows no such soft temper. His head’s yellow,
Hard-haired and curled, thick twined: like ivy tods,
Not to undo with thunder. In his face
The livery of the warlike maid appears,
Pure red and white—for yet no beard has blessed
him—
And in his rolling eyes sits victory,
As if she ever meant to court his valour.
His nose stands high, a character of honour;
His red lips, after fights, are fit for ladies.
And, if it may be, greater—for his show
Has all the ornament of honour in’t.
He’s somewhat bigger than the knight he spoke of,
But of a face far sweeter. His complexion
Is as a ripe grape, ruddy. He has felt,
Without doubt, what he fights for, and so apter
To make this cause his own. In’s face appears
All the fair hopes of what he undertakes,
And when he’s angry, then a settled valour,
Not tainted with extremes, runs through his body
And guides his arm to brave things. Fear he cannot—
He shows no such soft temper. His head’s yellow,
Hard-haired and curled, thick twined: like ivy tods,
Not to undo with thunder. In his face
The livery of the warlike maid appears,
Pure red and white—for yet no beard has blessed
him—
And in his rolling eyes sits victory,
As if she ever meant to court his valour.
His nose stands high, a character of honour;
His red lips, after fights, are fit for ladies.
EMILIA
Must these men die too?
PIRITHOUS
When he speaks, his tongue
Sounds like a trumpet. All his lineaments
Are as a man would wish ’em—strong and clean.
He wears a well-steeled axe, the staff of gold.
His age, some five-and-twenty.
Sounds like a trumpet. All his lineaments
Are as a man would wish ’em—strong and clean.
He wears a well-steeled axe, the staff of gold.
His age, some five-and-twenty.
MESSENGER
There’s another—
A little man, but of a tough soul, seeming
As great as any. Fairer promises
In such a body yet I never looked on.
A little man, but of a tough soul, seeming
As great as any. Fairer promises
In such a body yet I never looked on.
PIRITHOUS
O, he that’s freckle-faced?
MESSENGER
The same, my lord.
Are they not sweet ones?
Are they not sweet ones?
PIRITHOUS
Yes, they are well.
MESSENGER
Methinks,
Being so few and well disposed, they show
Great and fine art in nature. He’s white-haired—
Not wanton white, but such a manly colour
Next to an auburn, tough and nimble set,
Which shows an active soul. His arms are brawny,
Lined with strong sinews—to the shoulder piece
Gently they swell, like women new-conceived,
Which speaks him prone to labour, never fainting
Under the weight of arms; stout-hearted, still,
But when he stirs, a tiger. He’s grey-eyed,
Which yields compassion where he conquers; sharp
To spy advantages, and where he finds ’em,
He’s swift to make ’em his. He does no wrongs,
Nor takes none. He’s round-faced, and when he smiles
He shows a lover; when he frowns, a soldier.
About his head he wears the winner’s oak,
And in it stuck the favour of his lady.
His age, some six-and-thirty. In his hand
He bears a charging staff embossed with silver.
Being so few and well disposed, they show
Great and fine art in nature. He’s white-haired—
Not wanton white, but such a manly colour
Next to an auburn, tough and nimble set,
Which shows an active soul. His arms are brawny,
Lined with strong sinews—to the shoulder piece
Gently they swell, like women new-conceived,
Which speaks him prone to labour, never fainting
Under the weight of arms; stout-hearted, still,
But when he stirs, a tiger. He’s grey-eyed,
Which yields compassion where he conquers; sharp
To spy advantages, and where he finds ’em,
He’s swift to make ’em his. He does no wrongs,
Nor takes none. He’s round-faced, and when he smiles
He shows a lover; when he frowns, a soldier.
About his head he wears the winner’s oak,
And in it stuck the favour of his lady.
His age, some six-and-thirty. In his hand
He bears a charging staff embossed with silver.
THESEUS
Are they all thus?
PIRITHOUS
They are all the sons of honour.
THESEUS
Now as I have a soul, I long to see ’em.
(
To Hippolyta
) Lady, you shall see men fight now.
(
To Hippolyta
) Lady, you shall see men fight now.
HIPPOLYTA
I Wish it,
But not the cause, my lord. They would show
Bravely about the titles of two kingdoms—
’Tis pity love should be so tyrannous.
(
To Emilia
) O my soft-hearted sister, what think you?
Weep not till they weep blood. Wench, it must be.
But not the cause, my lord. They would show
Bravely about the titles of two kingdoms—
’Tis pity love should be so tyrannous.
(
To Emilia
) O my soft-hearted sister, what think you?
Weep not till they weep blood. Wench, it must be.
THESEUS (
to Emilia
)
to Emilia
)
You have steeled ’em with your beauty.
(
To Pirithous
)
To Pirithous
)
Honoured friend, To you I give the field: pray order it
Fitting the persons that must use it.
Fitting the persons that must use it.
PIRITHOUS
Yes, sir.
THESEUS
Come, I’ll go visit ’em—I cannot stay,
Their fame has fired me so. Till they appear,
Good friend, be royal.
Their fame has fired me so. Till they appear,
Good friend, be royal.
PIRITHOUS There shall want no bravery.
EMILIA ⌈
aside
⌉
aside
⌉
Poor wench, go weep—for whosoever wins
Loses a noble cousin for thy sins.
Loses a noble cousin for thy sins.
Exeunt
4.3Enter the Jailer, the Wooer, and the Doctor
DOCTOR Her distraction is more at some time of the moon than at other some, is it not?
JAILER She is continually in a harmless distemper: sleeps little; altogether without appetite, save often drinking; dreaming of another world, and a better; and what broken piece of matter soe’er she’s about, the name ’Palamon’ lards it, that she farces every business
withal, fits it to every question. Look where she comes—you shall perceive her behaviour.
Enter the Jailer’s Daughter
They stand apart
JAILER’S DAUGHTER I have forgot it quite—the burden on’t was ‘Down-a, down-a’, and penned by no worse man than Giraldo, Emilia’s schoolmaster. He’s as fantastical, too, as ever he may go upon’s legs—for in the next world will Dido see Palamon, and then will she be out of love with Aeneas.
DOCTOR What stuff’s here? Poor soul.
JAILER E’en thus all day long.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER Now for this charm that I told you of—you must bring a piece of silver on the tip of your tongue, or no ferry: then, if it be your chance to come where the blessed spirits are—there’s a sight now! We maids that have our livers perished, cracked to pieces with love, we shall come there and do nothing all day long but pick flowers with Proserpine. Then will I make Palamon a nosegay, then let him mark me, then—
DOCTOR How prettily she’s amiss! Note her a little further.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER Faith, I’ll tell you: sometime we go to barley-break, we of the blessed. Alas, ’tis a sore life they have i’th’ other place—such burning, frying, boiling, hissing, howling, chattering, cursing—O they have shrewd measure—take heed! If one be mad or hang or drown themselves, thither they go, Jupiter bless us, and there shall we be put in a cauldron of lead and usurers’ grease, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boil like a gammon of bacon that will never be enough.
DOCTOR How her brain coins!
JAILER’S DAUGHTER Lords and courtiers that have got maids with child—they are in this place. They shall stand in fire up to the navel and in ice up to th’ heart, and there th’offending part burns, and the deceiving part freezes—in truth a very grievous punishment as one would think for such a trifle. Believe me, one would marry a leprous witch to be rid on’t, I’ll assure you.
DOCTOR How she continues this fancy! ’Tis not an engrafted madness, but a most thick and profound melancholy.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER To hear there a proud lady and a proud city wife howl together! I were a beast an I’d call it good sport. One cries, ‘O this smoke!’, th‘other, ‘This fire!’; one cries, ‘O that ever I did it behind the arras!’, and then howls—th’other curses a suing fellow and her garden-house.
(
Sings
) ‘I will be true, my stars, my fate . . .’
Sings
) ‘I will be true, my stars, my fate . . .’
Exit Daughter
JAILER (
to the Doctor
) What think you of her, sir?
to the Doctor
) What think you of her, sir?
DOCTOR I think she has a perturbed mind, which I cannot minister to.
JAILER Alas, what then?
DOCTOR Understand you she ever affected any man ere she beheld Palamon?
JAILER I was
once
, sir, in great hope she had fixed her liking on this gentleman, my friend.
once
, sir, in great hope she had fixed her liking on this gentleman, my friend.
WOOER I did think so too, and would account I had a great penn’orth on’t to give half my state that both she and I, at this present, stood unfeignedly on the same terms. 66
DOCTOR That intemperate surfeit of her eye hath distempered the other senses. They may return and settle again to execute their preordained faculties, but they are now in a most extravagant vagary. This you must do: confine her to a place where the light may rather seem to steal in than be permitted; take upon you, young sir her friend, the name of Palamon; say you come to eat with her and to commune of love. This will catch her attention, for this her mind beats upon—other objects that are inserted ’tween her mind and eye become the pranks and friskins of her madness. Sing to her such green songs of love as she says Palamon hath sung in prison; come to her stuck in as sweet flowers as the season is mistress of, and thereto make an addition of some other compounded odours which are grateful to the sense. All this shall become Palamon, for Palamon can sing, and Palamon is sweet and every good thing. Desire to eat with her, carve her, drink to her, and still among intermingle your petition of grace and acceptance into her favour. Learn what maids have been her companions and playferes, and let them repair to her, with Palamon in their mouths, and appear with tokens as if they suggested for him. It is a falsehood she is in, which is with falsehoods to be combated. This may bring her to eat, to sleep, and reduce what’s now out of square in her into their former law and regiment. I have seen it approved, how many times I know not, but to make the number more I have great hope in this. I will between the passages of this project come in with my appliance. Let us put it in execution, and hasten the success, which doubt not will bring forth comfort.
Exeunt
⌈
An altar prepared.
⌉
Flourish. Enter Theseus
,
Pirithous, Hippolyta, attendants
THESEUS
Now let ’em enter and before the gods
Tender their holy prayers. Let the temples
Burn bright with sacred fires, and the altars
In hallowed clouds commend their swelling incense
To those above us. Let no due be wanting.
Tender their holy prayers. Let the temples
Burn bright with sacred fires, and the altars
In hallowed clouds commend their swelling incense
To those above us. Let no due be wanting.
Flourish of cornetts
They have a noble work in hand, will honour
The very powers that love ’em.
The very powers that love ’em.
Enter Palamon with his three Knights
⌈
at one door
⌉
, and Arcite with his three Knights
⌈
at the other door
⌉
PIRITHOUS
Sir, they enter.
THESEUS
You valiant and strong-hearted enemies,
You royal german foes that this day come
To blow that nearness out that flames between ye,
Lay by your anger for an hour and, dove-like,
Before the holy altars of your helpers,
The all-feared gods, bow down your stubborn bodies.
Your ire is more than mortal—so your help be;
And as the gods regard ye, fight with justice.
I’ll leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye
I part my wishes.
You royal german foes that this day come
To blow that nearness out that flames between ye,
Lay by your anger for an hour and, dove-like,
Before the holy altars of your helpers,
The all-feared gods, bow down your stubborn bodies.
Your ire is more than mortal—so your help be;
And as the gods regard ye, fight with justice.
I’ll leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye
I part my wishes.
PIRITHOUS
Honour crown the worthiest.
Exit Theseus and his train
PALAMON (to
Arcite
)
Arcite
)
The glass is running now that cannot finish
Till one of us expire. Think you but thus,
That were there aught in me which strove to show
Mine enemy in this business, were’t one eye
Against another, arm oppressed by arm,
I would destroy th’offender—coz, I would,
Though parcel of myself. Then from this gather
How I should tender you.
Till one of us expire. Think you but thus,
That were there aught in me which strove to show
Mine enemy in this business, were’t one eye
Against another, arm oppressed by arm,
I would destroy th’offender—coz, I would,
Though parcel of myself. Then from this gather
How I should tender you.
ARCITE
I am in labour
To push your name, your ancient love, our kindred,
Out of my memory, and i’th’ selfsame place
To seat something I would confound. So hoist we
The sails that must these vessels port even where
The heavenly limiter pleases.
To push your name, your ancient love, our kindred,
Out of my memory, and i’th’ selfsame place
To seat something I would confound. So hoist we
The sails that must these vessels port even where
The heavenly limiter pleases.
PALAMON
You speak well.
Before I turn, let me embrace thee, cousin—
This I shall never do again.
Before I turn, let me embrace thee, cousin—
This I shall never do again.
ARCITE One farewell.
PALAMON
Why, let it be so—farewell, coz.
ARCITE
Farewell, sir.
Exeunt Palamon and his three Knights
Knights, kinsmen, lovers—yea, my sacrifices,
True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you
Expels the seeds of fear and th’apprehension
Which still is father of it, go with me
Before the god of our profession. There
Require of him the hearts of lions and
The breath of tigers, yea, the fierceness too,
Yea, the speed also—to go on, I mean,
Else wish we to be snails. You know my prize
Must be dragged out of blood—force and great feat
Must put my garland on me, where she sticks,
The queen of flowers. Our intercession, then,
Must be to him that makes the camp a cistern
Brimmed with the blood of men—give me your aid,
And bend your spirits towards him.
True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you
Expels the seeds of fear and th’apprehension
Which still is father of it, go with me
Before the god of our profession. There
Require of him the hearts of lions and
The breath of tigers, yea, the fierceness too,
Yea, the speed also—to go on, I mean,
Else wish we to be snails. You know my prize
Must be dragged out of blood—force and great feat
Must put my garland on me, where she sticks,
The queen of flowers. Our intercession, then,
Must be to him that makes the camp a cistern
Brimmed with the blood of men—give me your aid,
And bend your spirits towards him.
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