Part 32

EMILIA. Is this wynning? Oh all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy? But that your wils have saide it must be so, And charge me live to comfort this unfriended, This miserable Prince, that cuts away A life more worthy from him then all women, I should, and would, die too.

HIPPOLITA. Infinite pitty, That fowre such eies should be so fixd on one That two must needes be blinde fort.

THESEUS. So it is. [Exeunt.]

Scaena 4. (The same; a Block prepared.)

(PALAMON.) Ther’s many a man alive that hath out liv’d The love o’th people; yea, i’th selfesame state Stands many a Father with his childe; some comfort We have by so considering: we expire And not without mens pitty. To live still, Have their good wishes; we prevent The loathsome misery of age, beguile The Gowt and Rheume, that in lag howres attend For grey approachers; we come towards the gods Yong and unwapper’d, not halting under Crymes Many and stale: that sure shall please the gods, Sooner than such, to give us Nectar with ’em, For we are more cleare Spirits. My deare kinesmen, Whose lives (for this poore comfort) are laid downe, You have sould ’em too too cheape.

1. KNIGHT. What ending could be Of more content? ore us the victors have Fortune, whose title is as momentary, As to us death is certaine: A graine of honour They not ore’-weigh us.

2. KNIGHT. Let us bid farewell; And with our patience anger tottring Fortune, Who at her certain’st reeles.

3. KNIGHT. Come; who begins?

PALAMON. Ev’n he that led you to this Banket shall Taste to you all.—Ah ha, my Friend, my Friend, Your gentle daughter gave me freedome once; You’l see’t done now for ever: pray, how do’es she? I heard she was not well; her kind of ill Gave me some sorrow.

IAILOR. Sir, she’s well restor’d, And to be marryed shortly.

PALAMON. By my short life, I am most glad on’t; Tis the latest thing I shall be glad of; pre’thee tell her so: Commend me to her, and to peece her portion, Tender her this. [Gives purse.]

1. KNIGHT. Nay lets be offerers all.

2. KNIGHT. Is it a maide?

PALAMON. Verily, I thinke so, A right good creature, more to me deserving Then I can quight or speake of.

ALL KNIGHTS. Commend us to her. [They give their purses.]

IAILOR. The gods requight you all, And make her thankefull.

PALAMON. Adiew; and let my life be now as short, As my leave taking. [Lies on the Blocke.]

1. KNIGHT. Leade, couragious Cosin.

2. KNIGHT. Wee’l follow cheerefully. [A great noise within crying, ‘run, save, hold!’]

MESSENGER. Hold, hold! O hold, hold, hold!

PERITHOUS. Hold! hoa! It is a cursed hast you made, If you have done so quickly. Noble Palamon, The gods will shew their glory in a life, That thou art yet to leade.

PALAMON. Can that be, When Venus, I have said, is false? How doe things fare?

PERITHOUS. Arise, great Sir, and give the tydings eare That are most dearly sweet and bitter.

PALAMON. What Hath wakt us from our dreame?

PERITHOUS. List then: your Cosen, Mounted upon a Steed that Emily Did first bestow on him, a blacke one, owing Not a hayre worth of white—which some will say Weakens his price, and many will not buy His goodnesse with this note: Which superstition Heere findes allowance—On this horse is Arcite Trotting the stones of Athens, which the Calkins Did rather tell then 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 t’wer, to’th Musicke His owne hoofes made; (for as they say from iron Came Musickes origen) what envious Flint, Cold as old Saturne, and like him possest With fire malevolent, darted a Sparke, Or what feirce sulphur else, to this end made, I comment not;—the hot horse, hot as fire, Tooke Toy at this, and fell to what disorder His power could give his will; bounds, comes on end, Forgets schoole dooing, being therein traind, And of kind mannadge; pig-like he whines At the sharpe Rowell, which he freats at rather Then any jot obaies; seekes all foule meanes Of boystrous and rough Iadrie, to dis-seate His Lord, that kept it bravely: when nought serv’d, When neither Curb would cracke, girth breake nor diffring plunges Dis-roote his Rider whence he grew, but that He kept him tweene his legges, on his hind hoofes on end he stands, That Arcites leggs, being higher then his head, Seem’d with strange art to hand: His victors wreath Even then fell off his head: and presently Backeward the Iade comes ore, and his full poyze Becomes the Riders loade: yet is he living, But such a vessell tis, that floates but for The surge that next approaches: he much desires To have some speech with you: Loe he appeares.

PALAMON. O miserable end of our alliance! The gods are mightie, Arcite: if thy heart, Thy worthie, manly heart, be yet unbroken, Give me thy last words; I am Palamon, One that yet loves thee dying.

ARCITE. Take Emilia And with her all the worlds joy: Reach thy hand: Farewell: I have told my last houre. I was false, Yet never treacherous: Forgive me, Cosen:— One kisse from faire Emilia: Tis done: Take her: I die.

PALAMON. Thy brave soule seeke Elizium.