An innocent, and I was very angry.
But what of her, sir?
WOOER Nothing but my pity.
But you must know it, and as good by me
As by another that less loves her.
JAILER Well, sir?
1FRIEND Not right?
2FRIEND Not well?
WOOER No sir, not well:
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’Tis too true: she is mad.
1FRIEND It cannot be!
WOOER Believe, you’ll find it so.
JAILER I half suspected
What you have told me. The gods comfort her!
Either this was her love to Palamon,
Or fear of my miscarrying on his ’scape, Or both.
WOOER ’Tis likely.
JAILER But why all this haste, sir?
WOOER I’ll tell you quickly. As I late was angling
In the great lake that lies behind the palace,
From the far shore, thick set with reeds and sedges,
As patiently I was attending sport,
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I heard a voice, a shrill one, and attentive
I gave my ear, when I might well perceive
’Twas one that sung and, by the smallness of it,
A boy or woman. I then left my angle
To his own skill, came near, but yet perceived not
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Who made the sound, the rushes and the reeds
Had so encompassed it. I laid me down
And listened to the words she sung, for then,
Through a small glade cut by the fishermen,
I saw it was your daughter.
JAILER Pray go on, sir.
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WOOER She sung much, but no sense; only I heard her
Repeat this often: ‘Palamon is gone,
Is gone to th’ wood to gather mulberries;
I’ll find him out tomorrow.’
1FRIEND Pretty soul!
WOOER ‘His shackles will betray him, he’ll be taken;
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And what shall I do then? I’ll bring a bevy,
A hundred black-eyed maids that love as I do,
With chaplets on their heads of daffadillies,
With cherry-lips and cheeks of damask roses,
And all we’ll dance an antic ’fore the Duke
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And beg his pardon.’ Then she talked of you, sir:
That you must lose your head tomorrow morning,
And she must gather flowers to bury you,
And see the house made handsome. Then she sung
Nothing but ‘Willow, willow, willow’ and, between,
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Ever was ‘Palamon, fair Palamon’
And ‘Palamon was a tall young man’. The place
Was knee-deep where she sat; her careless tresses
A wreath of bullrush rounded; about her stuck
Thousand fresh water-flowers of several colours,
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That methought she appeared like the fair nymph
That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris
Newly dropped down from heaven. Rings she made
Of rushes that grew by and to ’em spoke
The prettiest posies: ‘Thus our true love’s tied’,
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‘This you may loose, not me,’ and many a one.
And then she wept, and sung again, and sighed,
And with the same breath smiled and kissed her hand.
2FRIEND Alas, what pity it is!
WOOER I made in to her.
She saw me, and straight sought the flood; I saved her,
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And set her safe to land, when presently
She slipped away and to the city made,
With such a cry and swiftness that, believe me,
She left me far behind her. Three or four
I saw from far off cross her – one of ’em
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I knew to be your brother – where she stayed
And fell, scarce to be got away. I left them with her,
Enter Jailer’s Brother, Jailer’s Daughter and others.
And hither came to tell you. Here they are.
DAUGHTER [Sings.]
May you never more enjoy the light etc.
Is not this a fine song?
BROTHER O, a very fine one.
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DAUGHTER I can sing twenty more.
BROTHER I think you can.
DAUGHTER Yes, truly, can I. I can sing ‘The Broom’
And ‘Bonny Robin’. Are not you a tailor?
BROTHER Yes.
DAUGHTER Where’s my wedding gown?
BROTHER I’ll bring it tomorrow.
DAUGHTER Do, very early. I must be abroad else
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To call the maids and pay the minstrels,
For I must lose my maidenhead by cocklight;
’Twill never thrive else.
[Sings.] O fair, O sweet etc.
BROTHER [to Jailer]
You must e’en take it patiently.
JAILER ’Tis true.
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DAUGHTER
Good ev’n, good men; pray, did you ever hear
Of one young Palamon?
JAILER Yes, wench, we know him.
DAUGHTER Is’t not a fine young gentleman?
JAILER ’Tis, love.
BROTHER
By no means cross her, she is then distempered
Far worse than now she shows.
1FRIEND [to Daughter] Yes, he’s a fine man.
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DAUGHTER O, is he so? You have a sister.
1FRIEND Yes.
DAUGHTER But she shall never have him – tell her so –
For a trick that I know; you’d best look to her,
For if she see him once, she’s gone; she’s done,
And undone, in an hour. All the young maids
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Of our town are in love with him, but I laugh at ’em
And let ’em all alone; is’t not a wise course?
1FRIEND Yes.
DAUGHTER
There is at least two hundred now with child by him –
There must be four – yet I keep close for all this,
Close as a cockle; and all these must be boys
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(He has the trick on’t) and at ten years old
They must be all gelt for musicians
And sing the wars of Theseus.
2FRIEND This is strange.
DAUGHTER As ever you heard, but say nothing.
1FRIEND No.
DAUGHTER
They come from all parts of the dukedom to him.
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I’ll warrant ye, he had not so few last night
As twenty to dispatch – he’ll tickle’t up
In two hours, if his hand be in.
JAILER She’s lost
Past all cure.
BROTHER Heaven forbid, man!
DAUGHTER [to Jailer] Come hither!
You are a wise man.
1FRIEND [aside] Does she know him?
2FRIEND [aside] No.
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Would she did!
DAUGHTER You are master of a ship?
JAILER Yes.
DAUGHTER Where’s your compass?
JAILER Here.
DAUGHTER Set it to th’ north.
And now direct your course to th’ wood, where Palamon
Lies longing for me. For the tackling,
Let me alone; come, weigh, my hearts, cheerily!
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ALL [severally]
Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
’Tis up! – The wind’s fair! – Top the bowline! –
Out with the mainsail! – Where’s your whistle, master?
BROTHER Let’s get her in.
JAILER Up to the top, boy.
BROTHER Where’s the pilot?
1FRIEND Here.
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DAUGHTER What kenn’st thou?
DAUGHTER Bear for it, master;
Tack about!
[Sings.] When Cynthia with her borrowed light etc.
Exeunt.
4.2 Enter EMILIA alone, with two pictures.
EMILIA
Yet I may bind those wounds up, that must open
And bleed to death for my sake else; I’ll choose,
And end their strife. Two such young, handsome men
Shall never fall for me; their weeping mothers,
Following the dead cold ashes of their sons,
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Shall never curse my cruelty.
[Looks at one of the pictures.] Good heaven,
What a sweet face has Arcite! If wise Nature,
With all her best endowments, all those beauties
She sows into the births of noble bodies,
Were here a mortal woman and had in her
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The coy denials of young maids, yet, doubtless,
She would run mad for this man. What an eye,
Of what a fiery sparkle and quick sweetness,
Has this young prince! Here Love himself sits smiling;
Just such another wanton Ganymede
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Set Jove afire with, and enforced the god
Snatch up the goodly boy and set him by him,
A shining constellation. What a brow,
Of what a spacious majesty, he carries,
Arched like the great-eyed Juno’s, but far sweeter,
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Smoother than Pelops’ shoulder! Fame and Honour,
Methinks, from hence, as from a promontory
Pointed in heaven, should clap their wings and sing,
To all the under-world, the loves and fights
Of gods and such men near ’em.
[Looks at the other picture.] Palamon
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Is but his foil; to him, a mere dull shadow;
He’s swart and meagre, of an eye as heavy
As if he had lost his mother; a still temper;
No stirring in him, no alacrity;
Of all this sprightly sharpness, not a smile.
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Yet these that we count errors may become him:
Narcissus was a sad boy, but a heavenly.
– ‘O, who can find the bent of woman’s fancy?’
I am a fool, my reason is lost in me,
I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly
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That women ought to beat me. On my knees,
I ask thy pardon, Palamon: thou art alone
And only beautiful, and these the eyes,
These the bright lamps of beauty, that command
And threaten love, and what young maid dare cross ’em?
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What a bold gravity, and yet inviting,
Has this brown manly face! O Love, this only,
From this hour, is complexion!
[Lays Arcite’s picture down.] Lie there, Arcite;
Thou art a changeling to him, a mere gypsy,
And this the noble body. – I am sotted,
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Utterly lost. My virgin’s faith has fled me.
For if my brother but even now had asked me
Whether I loved, I had run mad for Arcite;
Now, if my sister, more for Palamon.
Stand both together. Now, come ask me, brother.
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‘Alas, I know not!’ Ask me now, sweet sister.
‘I may go look.’ What a mere child is Fancy,
That, having two fair gauds of equal sweetness,
Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both!
Enter Gentleman.
How now, sir?
GENTLEMAN From the noble Duke your brother,
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Madam, I bring you news. The knights are come.
EMILIA To end the quarrel?
GENTLEMAN Yes.
EMILIA Would I might end first!
What sins have I committed, chaste Diana,
That my unspotted youth must now be soiled
With blood of princes, and my chastity
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Be made the altar where the lives of lovers –
Two greater and two better never yet
Made mothers joy – must be the sacrifice
To my unhappy beauty?
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PIRITHOUS and attendants.
THESEUS Bring ’em in
Quickly, by any means; I long to see ’em.
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[to Emilia] Your two contending lovers are returned,
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 556