The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works
Page 420
DOCTOR
’Twas very ill done, then. You should observe her every way.
WOOER
Alas,
I have no voice, sir, to confirm her that way.
DOCTOR
That’s all one, if ye make a noise.
If she entreat again, do anything—
Lie with her if she ask you.
JAILER
Ho there, Doctor.
DOCTOR
Yes, in the way of cure.
JAILER
But first, by your leave,
I’th’ way of honesty.
DOCTOR
That’s but a niceness—
Ne’er cast your child away for honesty.
Cure her first this way, then if she will be honest,
She has the path before her.
JAILER
Thank ye, Doctor.
DOCTOR
Pray bring her in and let’s see how she is.
JAILER
I will, and tell her her Palamon stays for her.
But, Doctor, methinks you are i’th’ wrong still.
Exit Jailer
DOCTOR
Go, go. You fathers are fine fools—her honesty?
An we should give her physic till we find that—
WOOER
Why, do you think she is not honest, sir?
DOCTOR
How old is she?
WOOER
She’s eighteen.
DOCTOR
She may be—
But that’s all one. ’Tis nothing to our purpose.
Whate’er her father says, if you perceive
Her mood inclining that way that I spoke of,
Videlicet, the way of flesh—you have me?
WOOER
Yes, very well, sir.
DOCTOR
Please her appetite,
And do it home—it cures her, ipso facto,
The melancholy humour that infects her.
WOOER I am of your mind, Doctor.
Enter the Jailer and his Daughter, mad
DOCTOR
You’ll find it so—she comes: pray humour her.
⌈The Doctor and the Wooer stand apart⌉
JAILER (to his Daughter)
Come, your love Palamon stays for you, child,
And has done this long hour, to visit you.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
I thank him for his gentle patience.
He’s a kind gentleman, and I am much bound to
him.
Did you ne’er see the horse he gave me?
JAILER
Yes.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
How do you like him?
JAILER
He’s a very fair one.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
You never saw him dance?
JAILER
No.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
I have, often. He dances very finely, very comely,
And, for a jig, come cut and long-tail to him,
He turns ye like a top.
JAILER
That’s fine, indeed.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
He’ll dance the morris twenty mile an hour,
And that will founder the best hobbyhorse,
If I have any skill, in all the parish—
And gallops to the tune of ‘Light o’ love’.
What think you of this horse?
JAILER
Having these virtues
I think he might be brought to play at tennis.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
Alas, that’s nothing.
JAILER
Can he write and read too?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
A very fair hand, and casts himself th’accounts
Of all his hay and provender. That ostler
Must rise betime that cozens him. You know
The chestnut mare the Duke has?
JAILER
Very well.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
She is horribly in love with him, poor beast,
But he is like his master—coy and scornful.
JAILER
What dowry has she?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
Some two hundred bottles
And twenty strike of oats, but he’ll ne’er have her.
He lisps in’s neighing, able to entice
A miller’s mare. He’ll be the death of her.
DOCTOR What stuff she utters!
JAILER Make curtsy—here your love comes.
WOOER (coming forward) Pretty soul,
How do ye?
She curtsies
That’s a fine maid, there’s a curtsy.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
Yours to command, i’th’ way of honesty—
How far is’t now to th’ end o’th’ world, my masters?
DOCTOR
Why, a day’s journey, wench.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER (to Wooer) Will you go with me?
WOOER
What shall we do there, wench?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
Why, play at stool-ball—
What is there else to do?
WOOER I am content
If we shall keep our wedding there.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
’Tis true—
For there, I will assure you, we shall find
Some blind priest for the purpose that will venture
To marry us, for here they are nice, and foolish.
Besides, my father must be hanged tomorrow,
And that would be a blot i’th’ business.
Are not you Palamon?
WOOER
Do not you know me?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
Yes, but you care not for me. I have nothing
But this poor petticoat and two coarse smocks.
WOOER
That’s all one—I will have you.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
Will you surely?
WOOER
Yes, by this fair hand, will I.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
We’ll to bed then.
WOOER
E’en when you will.
He kisses her
JAILER’S DAUGHTER (rubbing off the kiss)
O, sir, you would fain be nibbling.
WOOER
Why do you rub my kiss off?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
’Tis a sweet one,
And will perfume me finely against the wedding. 90
(Indicating the Doctor) Is not this your cousin Arcite?
DOCTOR
Yes, sweetheart,
And I am glad my cousin Palamon
Has made so fair a choice.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
Do you think he’ll have me?
DOCTOR
Yes, without doubt.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER (to the Jailer) Do you think so too?
JAILER Yes.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
We shall have many children. ⌈To the Doctor⌉ Lord,
how you’re grown!
My Palamon, I hope, will grow too, finely,
Now he’s at liberty. Alas, poor chicken,
He was kept down with hard meat and ill lodging,
But I’ll kiss him up again.
Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER
What do you here? You’ll lose the noblest sight
That e’er was seen.
JAILER
Are they i’th’ field?
MESSENGER
They are—
You bear a charge there too.
JAILER
I’ll away straight.
⌈To the others⌉ I must e’en leave you here.
DOCTOR
Nay, we’ll go with you—
I will not lose the sight.
JAILER
How did you like her?
DOCTOR
I’ll warrant you, within these three or four days<
br />
I’ll make her right again.
⌈Exit the Jailer with the Messenger⌉
(To the Wooer) You must not from her,
But still preserve her in this way.
WOOER
I will.
DOCTOR
Let’s get her in.
WOOER (to the Jailer’s Daughter)
Come, sweet, we’ll go to dinner,
And then we’ll play at cards.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
And shall we kiss too?
WOOER
A hundred times.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER And twenty.
WOOER
Ay, and twenty. no
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
And then we’ll sleep together.
DOCTOR (to the Wooer)
Take her offer.
WOOER (to the Jailer’s Daughter)
Yes, marry, will we.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER
But you shall not hurt me.
WOOER
I will not, sweet.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER If you do, love, I’ll cry.
Exeunt
5.5 Flourish. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous, and some attendants
EMILIA
I’ll no step further.
PIRITHOUS
Will you lose this sight?
EMILIA
I had rather see a wren hawk at a fly
Than this decision. Every blow that falls
Threats a brave life; each stroke laments
The place whereon it falls, and sounds more like
A bell than blade. I will stay here.
It is enough my hearing shall be punished
With what shall happen, ’gainst the which there is
No deafing, but to hear; not taint mine eye
With dread sights it may shun.
PIRITHOUS (to Theseus)
Sir, my good lord,
Your sister will no further.
THESEUS
O she must.
She shall see deeds of honour in their kind,
Which sometime show well pencilled. Nature now
Shall make and act the story, the belief
Both sealed with eye and ear. (To Emilia) You must be
present—
You are the victor’s meed, the price and garland
To crown the question’s title.
EMILIA
Pardon me,
If I were there I’d wink.
THESEUS
You must be there—
This trial is, as ’twere, i’th’ night, and you
The only star to shine.
EMILIA
I am extinct.
There is but envy in that light which shows
The one the other. Darkness, which ever was
The dam of horror, who does stand accursed
Of many mortal millions, may even now,
By casting her black mantle over both,
That neither could find other, get herself
Some part of a good name, and many a murder
Set off whereto she’s guilty.
HIPPOLYTA
You must go.
EMILIA
In faith, I will not.
THESEUS
Why, the knights must kindle
Their valour at your eye. Know, of this war
You are the treasure, and must needs be by
To give the service pay.
EMILIA
Sir, pardon me—
The title of a kingdom may be tried
Out of itself.
THESEUS
Well, well—then at your pleasure.
Those that remain with you could wish their office
To any of their enemies.
HIPPOLYTA
Farewell, sister. I am like to know your husband fore yourself,
By some small start of time. He whom the gods
Do of the two know best, I pray them he
Be made your lot.
Exeunt all but Emilia
⌈Emilia takes out two pictures, one from her right side, and one from her left⌉
EMILIA
Arcite is gently visaged, yet his eye
Is like an engine bent or a sharp weapon
In a soft sheath. Mercy and manly courage
Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon
Has a most menacing aspect. His brow
Is graved and seems to bury what it frowns on,
Yet sometime ’tis not so, but alters to
The quality of his thoughts. Long time his eye
Will dwell upon his object. Melancholy
Becomes him nobly—so does Arcite’s mirth.
But Palamon’s sadness is a kind of mirth,
So mingled as if mirth did make him sad
And sadness merry. Those darker humours that
Stick misbecomingly on others, on them
Live in fair dwelling.
Cornetts. Trumpets sound as to a charge
Hark, how yon spurs to spirit do incite
The princes to their proof. Arcite may win me,
And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to
The spoiling of his figure. O, what pity
Enough for such a chance! If I were by
I might do hurt, for they would glance their eyes
Toward my seat, and in that motion might
Omit a ward or forfeit an offence
Which craved that very time. It is much betterCornetts. A great cry and noise within, crying, ‘A Palamon’
I am not there. O better never born,
Than minister to such harm.
Enter Servant
What is the chance?
SERVANT The cry’s ‘A Palamon’.
EMILIA
Then he has won. ’Twas ever likely—
He looked all grace and success, and he is
Doubtless the prim’st of men. I prithee run
And tell me how it goes.
Shout and cornetts, crying, ‘A Palamon’
SERVANT
Still ‘Palamon’.
EMILIA
Run and enquire.
Exit Servant
⌈She speaks to the picture in her right hand⌉
Poor servant, thou hast lost.
Upon my right side still I wore thy picture,
Palamon’s on the left. Why so, I know not.
I had no end in’t, else chance would have it so.
Another cry and shout within and cornetts
On the sinister side the heart lies—Palamon
Had the best-boding chance. This burst of clamour
Is sure the end o’th’ combat.
Enter Servant
SERVANT
They said that Palamon had Arcite’s body
Within an inch o‘th’ pyramid—that the cry
Was general ‘A Palamon’. But anon
Th’assistants made a brave redemption, and
The two bold titlers at this instant are
Hand to hand at it.
EMILIA
Were they metamorphosed
Both into one! O why? There were no woman
Worth so composed a man: their single share,
Their nobleness peculiar to them, gives
The prejudice of disparity, value’s shortness,
To any lady breathing—
Cornetts. Cry within, ‘Arcite, Arcite’
More exulting?
‘Palamon’ still?
SERVANT
Nay, now the sound is ‘Arcite’.
EMILIA
I prithee, lay attention to the cry.
Cornetts. A great shout and cry, ‘Arcite, victory!’
Set both thine ears to th’ business.
SERVANT
The cry is
‘Arcite’ and ‘Victory’—hark, ‘Arcite, victory!’
The combat’s consummation is proclaimed
By the wind instruments.
EMILIA
Half sight
s saw
That Arcite was no babe. God’s lid, his richness
And costliness of spirit looked through him—it could
No more be hid in him than fire in flax,
Than humble banks can go to law with waters
That drift winds force to raging. I did think
Good Palamon would miscarry, yet I knew not
Why I did think so. Our reasons are not prophets
When oft our fancies are. They are coming off—
Alas, poor Palamon.
She puts away the pictures.
Cornetts. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous,
Arcite as victor, and attendants
THESEUS
Lo, where our sister is in expectation,
Yet quaking and unsettled. Fairest Emily,
The gods by their divine arbitrament
Have given you this knight. He is a good one
As ever struck at head. ⌈To Arcite and Emilia⌉ Give me
your hands.
(To Arcite) Receive you her, (to Emilia) you him: (to
both) be plighted with
A love that grows as you decay.
ARCITE
Emilia,
To buy you I have lost what’s dearest to me
Save what is bought, and yet I purchase cheaply
As I do rate your value.
THESEUS (to Emilia)
O lovèd sister,
He speaks now of as brave a knight as e’er
Did spur a noble steed. Surely the gods
Would have him die a bachelor lest his race
Should show i’th’ world too godlike. His behaviour
So charmed me that, methought, Alcides was
To him a sow of lead. If I could praise
Each part of him to th‘all I have spoke, your Arcite
Did not lose by’t; for he that was thus good,
Encountered yet his better. I have heard
Two emulous Philomels beat the ear o’th’ night
With their contentious throats, now one the higher,
Anon the other, then again the first,
And by and by out-breasted, that the sense
Could not be judge between ’em—so it fared
Good space between these kinsmen, till heavens did
Make hardly one the winner. (To Arcite) Wear the
garland
With joy that you have won.—For the subdued,
Give them our present justice, since I know
Their lives but pinch ’em. Let it here be done.
The scene’s not for our seeing; go we hence
Right joyful, with some sorrow. (To Arcite) Arm your
prize;
I know you will not lose her. Hippolyta,
I see one eye of yours conceives a tear,