The Two Noble Kinsmen

Act V

Scene I. Athens. Before the Temples of Mars, Venus, and Diana Scene II. Athens. A Room in the Prison Scene III. A part of the Forest near Athens, and near the Place appointed for the Combat Scene IV. The same; a Block prepared EPILOGUE

Dramatis Personæ

PROLOGUE

ARCITE, the two noble kinsmen, cousins, PALAMON, nephews of Creon, King of Thebes

THESEUS, Duke of Athens HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, later Duchess of Athens EMILIA, Sister of Hippolyta PIRITHOUS, friend to Theseus

Three QUEENS, widows of the kings killed in laying siege to Thebes

The JAILER of Theseus’s prison His DAUGHTER, in love with Palamon His BROTHER, The WOOER of the Jailer’s daughter Two FRIENDS of the Jailer, A DOCTOR

ARTESIUS, an Athenian soldier VALERIUS, a Theban WOMAN, attending on Emilia An Athenian GENTLEMAN Six KNIGHTS, three accompanying Arcite, three Palamon

Six COUNTRYMEN, one dressed as a Bavian or baboon Gerald, a SCHOOLMASTER NEL, a countrywoman A TABORER

A singing BOY A HERALD A MESSENGER A SERVANT

EPILOGUE

Hymen (god of weddings), lords, soldiers, four countrywomen (Fritz, Maudlin, Luce, and Barbary), nymphs, attendants, maids, executioner, guard

SCENE: Athens and the Neighbourhood, except in part of the first Act, where it is Thebes and the Neighbourhood

PROLOGUE

Flourish. Enter Prologue.

PROLOGUE. New plays and maidenheads are near akin: Much followed both, for both much money gi’en, 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 am 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 underground, “O, 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.

Act I

SCENE I. Athens. Before a temple

Enter Hymen with a torch burning; a Boy, in a white robe before singing, and strewing flowers. After Hymen, a Nymph encompassed in her tresses, bearing a wheaten garland; then Theseus between two other Nymphs with wheaten chaplets on their heads. Then Hippolyta, the bride, led by Pirithous, and another holding a garland over her head, her tresses likewise hanging. After her, Emilia, holding up her train. Then Artesius and Attendants.

The Song

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 most quaint, And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, first-born child of Ver, Merry springtime’s harbinger, With harebells dim, Oxlips in their cradles growing, Marigolds on deathbeds blowing, Lark’s-heels trim;

All dear Nature’s children sweet Lie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet, Blessing their sense. Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, Is absent hence.

The crow, the sland’rous cuckoo, nor The boding raven, nor chough hoar, Nor chatt’ring ’pie, May on our bride-house 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 foot of Theseus; the second falls down at the foot of Hippolyta; the third before Emilia.

FIRST QUEEN. For pity’s sake and true gentility’s, Hear and respect me.

SECOND QUEEN. For your mother’s sake, And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones, Hear and respect me.

THIRD 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’ th’ book of trespasses All you are set down there.

THESEUS. Sad lady, rise.

HIPPOLYTA. Stand up.

EMILIA. No knees to me. What woman I may stead that is distressed, Does bind me to her.

THESEUS. What’s your request? Deliver you for all.

FIRST QUEEN. We are three queens whose sovereigns fell before The wrath of cruel Creon, who endure 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 th’ offence Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye Of holy Phœbus, but infects the winds With stench of our slain lords. O, pity, Duke! Thou purger of the earth, draw thy feared sword That does good turns to th’ 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 everything.

THESEUS. Pray you, kneel not. I was transported with your speech and suffered Your knees to wrong themselves. I have heard the fortunes Of your dead lords, which gives me such lamenting As wakes my vengeance and revenge for ’em. 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 her. Your wheaten wreath Was then nor threshed 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 thawed. O grief and time, Fearful consumers, you will all devour!

FIRST QUEEN. O, I hope some god, Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood, Whereto he’ll infuse power, and press you forth Our undertaker.

THESEUS. O, no knees, none, widow! Unto the helmeted Bellona use them, And pray for me, your soldier. Troubled I am.

SECOND QUEEN. Honoured Hippolyta, Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slain The scythe-tusked 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’erflowing, at once subduing Thy force and thy affection; soldieress That equally canst poise sternness with pity, Whom now I know hast much more power on him Than ever he had on thee, who ow’st his strength And his love too, who is a servant for 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 plucked off. Tell him if he i’ th’ blood-sized field lay swollen, Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, What you would do.

HIPPOLYTA. Poor lady, say no more. I had as lief trace this good action with you As that whereto I am 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.

THIRD QUEEN. O, my petition was Set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form, Is pressed with deeper matter.

EMILIA. Pray, stand up; Your grief is written in your cheek.

THIRD QUEEN. O, woe! You cannot read it there. There through my tears, Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream, You may behold ’em. Lady, lady, alack! He that will all the treasure know o’ th’ earth Must know the center too; he that will fish For my least minnow, let him lead his line To catch one at my heart. O, pardon me! Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits, Makes me a fool.

EMILIA. 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 T’ 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.

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