Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Scæna [6]

Enter Palamon from the BushPal. About this hour my Cosen gave his faithTo visit me again, and with him bringTwo Swords, and two good Armors; If he failHe's neither man, nor Soldier; When he left meI did not think a week could have restor'dMy lost strength to me, I was grown so low,And Crest-fal'n with my wants: I thank thee Arcite,Thou art yet a fair Foe; And I feel my selfWith this refreshing, able once againTo out-dure danger: To delay it longerWould make the world think when it comes to hearing,That I lay fatting like a Swine, to fightAnd not a Soldier: Therefore this blest morningShall be the last; And that Sword he refuses,If it but hold, I kill him with; 'tis Justice:So love, and Fortune for me: O good morrow.Enter Arcite with Armors and SwordsArc. Good morrow noble kinsman.Pal. I have put youTo too much pains Sir.Arc. That too much fair Cosen,Is but a debt to honor, and my duty.Pal. Would you were so in all Sir; I could wish yeAs kind a kinsman, as you force me findA beneficiall foe, that my embracesMight thank ye, not my blows.Arc. I shall think eitherWell done, a noble recompence.Pal. Then I shall quit you.Arc. Defy me in these fair terms, and you showMore than a Mistris to me, no more angerAs you love any thing that's honorable:We were not bred to talk man, when we are arm'dAnd both upon our guards, then let our furyLike meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us,And then to whom the birthright of this BeautyTruely pertains (without obbraidings, scorns,Dispisings of our persons, and such powtingsFitter for Girles and Schooleboyes) will be seenAnd quickly, yours, or mine: Wilt please you arme Sir?Or if you feel your self not fitting yetAnd furnish'd with your old strength, I'll stay CosenAnd ev'ry day discourse you into health,As I'm spar'd, your person I 'm friends withAnd I could wish I had not said I lov'd herThough I had [dide]; But loving such a LadyAnd justifying my Love, I must not fly from't.Pal. Arcite, thou art so brave an enemyThat no man but thy Cosen's fit to kill thee,I'm well, and lusty, choose your Armes.Arc. Choose you Sir.Pal. Wilt thou exceed in all, or do'st thou doe itTo make me spare thee?Arc. If you think so Cosen,You are deceiv'd, for as I 'm a Soldier,I will not spare you.Pal. That's well said.Arc. You'll find it.Pal. Then as [I am] an honest man and love,With all the justice of affectionI'll pay thee soundly: This I'll take.Arc. That's mine then,I'll arme you first.Pal. Do: Pray thee tell me Cosen,Where gotst thou this good Armor?Arc. 'Tis the Dukes,And to say true, I stole it, doe I pinch you?Pal. No.Arc. Is't not too heavie?Pal. I have worn a lighter,But I shall make it serve.Arc. I'll buckl't close.Pal. By any means.Arc. You care not for a Grand guard?Pal. No, no, we'll use no horses, I perceiveYou would fain be at that Fight.Arc. I'm indifferent.Pal. Faith so am I: Good Cosen, thrust the buckleThrough far enough.Arc. I warrant you.Pal. My Cask now.Arc. Will you fight bare-arm'd?Pal. We shall be the nimbler.Arc. But use your Gantlets though; those are o'th' least,Prethee take mine good Cosen.Pal. Thank you Arcite.How doe I look, am I falen much away?Arc. Faith very little; Love has us'd you kindly.Pal. I'll warrant thee, I'll strike home.Arc. Doe, and spare not;I'll give you cause sweet Cosen.Pal. Now to you Sir,Me thinks this Armor's very like that, Arcite,Thou wor'st that day the 3. Kings fell, but lighter.Arc. That was a very good one, and that dayI well remember, you out-did me Cosen,I never saw such valour: When you charg'dUpon the left wing of the Enemie,I spur'd hard to come up, and under meI had a right good horse.Pal. You had indeedA bright Bay I remember.Arc. Yes but allWas vainly labour'd in me, you out-went me,Nor could my wishes reach you; Yet a littleI did by imitation.Pal. More by virtue,Yo[u] are modest Cosen.Arc. When I saw you charge first,Me thought I heard a dreadfull clap of ThunderBreak from the Troop.Pal. But still before that flewThe lightning of your valour: Stay a litt[l]e,Is not this peece too streight?Arc. No, no, 'tis well.Pal. I would have nothing hurt thee but my Sword,A bruise would be dishonor.Arc. Now I'm perfect.Pal. Stand off then.Arc. Take my Sword, I hold it better.Pal. I thank ye: No, keep it, your life lyes on it,Here's one, if it but hold, I aske no more,For all my hopes: My Cause and honor guard me.[They bow severall wayes: then advance and stand.Arc. And me my love: Is there ought else to say?Pal. This only, and no more: Thou art mine Aunts Son.And that blood we desire to shed is mutuall.In me, thine, and in thee, mine: My SwordIs in my hand, and if thou killst meThe gods, and I forgive thee; If there beA place prepar'd for those that sleep in honor,I wish his wearie soul, that falls may win it:Fight bravely Cosen, give me thy noble hand.Arc. Here Palamon: This hand shall never moreCome near thee with such friendship.Pal. I commend thee.Arc. If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward,For none but such, dare die in these just Tryalls.Once more farewell my Cosen.Pal. Farewell Arcite.[Fight. [Horns within: they stand.Arc. Loe Cosen, loe, our Folly has undone us.Pal. Why?Arc. This is the Duke, a hunting as I told you,If we be found, we're wretched, O retireFor honors sake, and safely presentlyInto your Bush agen; Sir we shall findToo many hours to dye in, gentle Cosen:If you be seen you perish instantlyFor breaking prison, and I, if you reveal me,For my contempt; Then all the world will scorn us,And say we had a noble difference,But base disposers of it.Pal. No, no, CosenI will no more be hidden, nor put offThis great adventure to a second TryallI know your cunning, and I know your cause,He that faints now, shame take him, put thy selfUpon thy present guard.Arc. You are not mad?Pal. Or I will make th'advantage of this hourMine own, and what to come shall threaten me,I fear less then my fortune: Know weak CosenI love Emilia, and in that I'll buryThee, and all crosses else.Arc. Then come, what can comeThou shalt know Palamon, I dare as wellDie, as discourse, or sleep: Only this fears me,The law will have the honor of our ends,Have at thy life.Pal. Look to thine own well Arcite.[Fight again. Horns.Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Emilia, Perithous and trainTheseus. What ignorant and mad malicious Traitors,Are you? That 'gainst the tenor of my LawsAre making Battail, thus like Knights appointed,Without my leave, and Officers of Armes?By Castor both shall dye.Pal. Hold thy word Theseus,We are certainly both Traitors, both despisersOf thee, and of thy goodness: I'm PalamonThat cannot love thee, he that broke thy Prison,Think well, what that deserves; And this is ArciteA bolder Traytor never trod thy ground,A Falser never seem'd friend: This is the manWas beg'd and banish'd, this is he contemnes theeAnd what thou dar'st doe; and in this disguiseAgainst this own Edict follows thy Sister,That fortunate bright Star, the fair EmiliaWhose servant, (if there be a right in seeing,And first bequeathing of the soul to) justly[I am], and which is more, dares think her his.This treacherie like a most trusty Lover,I call'd him now to answer; If thou be'stAs thou art spoken, great and virtuous,The true decider of all injuries,Say, Fight again, and thou shalt see me TheseusDoe such a Justice, thou thy self wilt envieThen take my life, I'll wooe thee to't.Per. O Heaven,What more than man is this!Thes. I have sworn.Arc. We seek notThy breath of mercy Theseus, 'Tis to meA thing as soon to dye, as thee to say it,And no more mov'd: where this man calls me Traitor,Let me say thus much; If in love be Treason,In service of so excellent a Beautie,As I love most, and in that faith will perish,As I have brought my life here to confirme it,As I have serv'd her truest, worthiest,As I dare kill this Cosen, that denies it,So let me be most Traitor, and ye please me:For scorning thy Edict Duke, aske that LadyWhy she is fair, and why her eyes command meStay here to love her. And if she say Traytor,I'm a villain fit to lye unburied.Pal. Thou shalt have pity of us both, O Theseus,If unto neither thou shew mercy, stop(As thou art just) thy noble ear against us,As thou art valiant; For thy Cosens soulWhose 12. strong labors crown his memory,Let's die together, at one instant, Duke,Only a little let him fall before me,That I may tell my Soul he shall not have her.Thes. I grant your wish, for to say true, your CosenHas ten times more offended, for I gave himMore mercy than you found, Sir, your offencesBeing no more than his: None here speak for 'emFor ere the Sun set, both shall sleep for ever.Hippol. Alas the pity, now or never SisterSpeak not to be denied; That face of yoursWill bear the curses else of after agesFor these lost Cosens.Emil. In my face dear SisterI find no anger to'em; Nor no ruin,The misadventure of their own eyes kill'em;Yet that I will be woman, and have pitty,My knees shall grow to'th' ground but I'll get mercie.Help me dear Sister, in a deed so virtuous,The powers of all women will be with us,Most royall Brother.Hippol. Sir by our tye of Marriage.Emil. By your own spotless honor.Hip. By that faith,That fair hand, and that honest heart you gave me.Emil. By that you would have pitty in another,By your own virtues infinite.Hip. By valor,By all the chast nights I have ever pleas'd you.Thes. These are strange Conjurings.Per. Nay then I'll in too: By all our friendship Sir, by all our dangers,By all you love most, wars; And this sweet Lady.Emil. By that you would have trembled to denyA blushing Maid.Hip. By your own eyes: By strengthIn which you swore I went beyond all women,Almost all men, and yet I yielded Theseus.Per. To crown all this; By your most noble soulWhich cannot want due mercie, I beg first.Hip. Next hear my prayers.Emil. Last let me intreat Sir.Per. For mercy.Hip. Mercy.Emil. Mercy on these Princes.Thes. Ye make my faith reel: Say I feltCompassion to'em both, how would you place it?Emil. Upon their lives: But with their banishments.Thes. You are a right woman, Sister; You have pitty,But want the understanding where to use it.If you desire their lives, invent a waySafer than banishment: Can these two liveAnd have the agony of love about 'em,And not kill one another? Every dayThey'ld fight about you; Hourly bring your honorIn publique question with their Swords; Be wise thenAnd here forget 'em; It concerns your credit,And my [oth] equally: I have said they die,Better they fall byth' Law, than one another.Bow not my honor.Emil. O my noble Brother,That [oth] was rashly made, and in yo[u]r anger,Your reason will not hold it, if such vowsStand for express will, all the world must perish.Beside, I have another oath, gainst yoursOf more authority, I'm sure more love,Not made in passion neither, but good heed.Thes. What is it Sister?Per. Urge it home brave Lady.Emil. That you would never deny me any thingFit for my modest suit, and your free granting:I tye you to your word now, if ye fall in't,Think how you maim your honor;(For now I'm set a begging Sir, I'm deafTo all but your compassion) how, their livesMight breed the ruin of my name; Opinion,Shall any thing that loves me perish for me?That were a cruell wisdom, doe men proynThe straight young Bows that blush with thousand BlossomsBecause they may be rotten? O Duke TheseusThe goodly Mothers that have groan'd for these,And all the longing Maids that ever lov'd,If your vow stand, shall curse me and my Beauty,And in their funerall songs, for these two CosensDespise my crueltie, and cry woe worth me,Till I'm nothing but the scorn of women;For Heavens sake save their lives, and banish 'em.Thes. On what conditions?Emil. Swear'em never moreTo make me their Contention, or to know me,To tread upon the Dukedome, and to beWhere ever they shall travel, ever strangers to one another.Pal. I'll be cut a peecesBefore I take this oath, forget I love her?O all ye gods dispise me then: Thy BanishmentI not mislike, so we may fairly carryOur Swords, and cause along: Else never trifle,But take our lives Duke, I must love and will,And for that love, must and dare kill this CosenOn any peece the earth has.Thes. Will you ArciteTake these conditions?Pal. He's a villain then.Per. These are men.Arcite. No, never Duke: 'Tis worse to me than beggingTo take my life so basely, though I thinkI never shall enjoy her, yet I'll preserveThe honor of affection, and dye for her,Make death a Devill.Thes. What may be done? For now I feel compassion.Per. Let it not fall again Sir.Thes. Say EmiliaIf one of them were dead, as one must, are youContent to take th'other to your husband?They cannot both enjoy you; They are PrincesAs goodly as your own eyes, and as nobleAs ever fame yet spoke of: Look upon'em,And if you can love, end this difference,I give consent, are you content too, Princes?Both. With all our souls.Thes. He that she refusesMust dye then.Both. Any death thou canst invent Duke.Pal. If I fall from that mouth, I fall with favor.And Lovers yet unborn shall bless my ashes.Arc. If she refuse me, yet my grave will wed me,And Soldiers sing my Epitaph.Thes. Make choice then.Emil. I cannot Sir, they are both too excellentFor me, a hayr shall never fall of these men.Hip. What will become of 'em?Thes. Thus I ordain it,And by mine honor, once again it stands,Or both shall dye. You shall both to your Countrey,And each within this month accompaniedWith three fair Knights, appear again in this place,In which I'll plant a Pyramid; And whetherBefore us that are here, can force his CosenBy fair and knightly strength to touch the Pillar,He shall enjoy her: The other loose his head,And all his friends: Nor shall he grudge to fall,Nor think he dies with interest in this Lady:Will this content ye?Pal. Yes: Here Cosen ArciteI'm friends again, till that hour.Arc. I embrace ye.Thes. Are you content Sister?Emil. Yes, I must Sir,[Els] both miscarry.Thes. Come shake hands again then,And take heed, as you are Gentlemen, this QuarrellSleep till the hour p[re]fixt, and hold your course.Pal. We dare not fail thee Theseus.T[h]es. Come, I'll give yeNow usage like to Princes, and to Friends:When ye return, who wins, I'll settle here,Who loses, yet I'll weep upon his Beer.[Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima

Enter Jailor and his FriendJail.Hear you no more? was nothing said of meConcerning the escape of Palamon?Good Sir remember.1 Fr. Nothing that I heard,For I came home before the businessWas fully ended: yet I might perceiveE'r I departed, a great likelyhoodOf both their pardons: for Hippolita,And fair-ey'd Emilia, upon their knees,Begg'd with such handsome pitty, that the DukeMethought stood staggering whether he should followHis rash oath, or the sweet compassionOf those two Ladies; and to second them,That truly noble Prince PerithousHalf his own heart, set in too, that I hopeAll shall be well: neither heard I one questionOf your name, or his scape.Enter 2 FriendsJail. Pray Heaven it hold so.2 Fr. Be of good comfort man; I bring you newsGood news.Jail. They are welcome.2 Fr. Palamon has clear'd you,And got your pardon, and discover'dHow, and by whose means he scap'd, which was your Daughter's,Whose pardon is procured too, and the prisonerNot to be held ungrateful to her goodness,Has given a sum of money to her Marriage,A large one I'll assure you.Jail. Ye are a good manAnd ever bring good news.1 Fr. How was it ended?2 Fr. Why, as it should be; they that ne'er begg'dBut they prevail'd, had their suits fairly granted.The prisoners have their lives.1 Fr. I knew 'twould be so.2 Fr. But there be new conditions, which you'll hear ofAt better time.Jail. I hope they are good.2 Fr. They are honourable,How good they'll prove, I know not.Enter Wooer1 Fr. 'Twill be known.Woo. Alas Sir, where's your Daughter?Jail. Why do you ask?Woo. Oh Sir, when did you see her?2 Fr. How he looks!Jail. This morning.Woo. Was she well? was she in health Sir? when did she sleep?1 Fr. These are strange questions.Jail. I do not think she was very well, for nowYou make me mind her, but this very dayI ask'd her questions, and she answer'd meSo far from what she was, so childishly,So sillily, as if she were a fool,An Innocent, and I was very angry.But what of her Sir?Woo. Nothing but my pity, but you must know it, and as good by meAs by another that less loves her:Jail. Well Sir.1 Fr. Not right?2 Fr. Not well? —[Woo.] No Sir, not well.'Tis too true, she is mad.1 Fr. It cannot be.Woo. Believe, you'll find it so.Jay. I half suspectedWhat you told me: the gods comfort her:Either this was her love to Palamon,Or fear of my miscarrying on his scape,Or both.Woo. 'Tis likely.Jay. But why all this haste, Sir?Woo. I'll tell you quickly. As I late was anglingIn the great Lake that lies behind the Palace,From the far shore, thick set with Reeds and Sedges.As patiently I was attending sport,I heard a voice, a shrill one, and attentiveI gave my ear, when I might well perceive'Twas one that sung, and by the smallness of itA Boy or Woman. I then left my angleTo his own skill, came near, but yet perceiv'd notWho made the sound; the Rushes, and the ReedsHad so encompast it: I laid me downAnd listned to the words she sung, for thenThrough a small glade cut by the Fisher-men,I saw it was your Daughter.Jail. Pray goe on Sir?Woo. She sung much, but no sence; only I heard herRepeat this often. Palamon is gone,Is gone to th' wood to gather Mulberries,I'll find him out to morrow.1 Fr. Pretty soul.Woo. His shackles will betray him, he'll be taken,And what shall I do then? I'll bring a beavy,A hundred black-ey'd Maids that love as I doWith Chaplets on their heads [of] Daffadillies,With cherry lips, and cheeks of Damask Roses,And all we'll dance an Antique 'fore the Duke,And beg his pardon; then she talk'd of you, Sir;That you must lose your head to morrow morningAnd she must gather Flowers to bury you,And see the house made handsome, then she sungNothing but willow, willow, willow, and betweenEver was, Palamon, fair Palamon,And Palamon, was a tall young man. The placeWas knee deep where she sate; her careless Tresses,A wrea[th] of Bull-rush rounded; about her stuckThousand fresh Water Flowers of several colours.That methought she appear'd like the fair NymphThat feeds the lake with waters, or as IrisNewly dropt down from heaven; Rings she madeOf Rushes that grew by, and to 'em spokeThe prettiest posies: thus our true love's ty'd,This you may loose, not me, and many a one:And then she wept, and sung again, and sigh'd,And with the same breath smil'd, and kist her hand.2 Fr. Alas what pity it is?Woo. I made in to her,She saw me, and straight sought the flood, I sav'd her,And set her safe to land: when presentlyShe slipt away, and to the City made,With such a cry, and swiftness, that believe meShe left me far behind her; three, or four,I saw from far off cross her, one of 'emI knew to be your brother, where [she] staid,And fell, scarce to be got away: I left them with her.Enter Brother, Daughter, and othersAnd hither came to tell you: Here they are.Daugh. May you never more enjoy the light, &c.Is not this a fine Song?Bro. Oh, a very fine one.Daugh. I can sing twenty more.Bro. I think you can.Daugh. Yes truly can I, I can sing the Broom,And Bonny Robbin. Are not you a Tailor?Bro. Yes.Daugh. Where's my wedding-Gown?Bro. I'll bring it to morrow.Daugh. Doe, very rarely, I must be abroad elseTo call the Maids, and pay the MinstrelsFor I must loose my Maiden-head by cock-light'Twill never thrive else.Oh fair, oh sweet, &c.[Sings.Bro. You must ev'n take it patiently.Jay. 'Tis true.Daugh. Good ev'n, good men, pray did you ever hearOf one young Palamon?Jay. Yes wench, we know him.Daugh. Is't not a fine young Gentleman?Jay. 'Tis Love.Bro. By no mean cross her, she is then distemper'dFor worse than now she shows.1 Fr. Yes, he's a fine man.Daugh. Oh, is he so? you have a Sister.1 Fr. Yes.Daugh. But she shall never have him, tell her so,For a trick that I know, y'had best look to her,For if she see him once, she's gone, she's done,And undone in an hour. All the young MaidsOf our Town are in love with him, but I laugh at 'emAnd let 'em all alone, is't not a wise course?1 Fr. Yes.Daugh. 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,He has the trick on't, and at ten years oldThey must be all gelt for Musicians,And sing the wars of Theseus.2 Fr. This is strange.Daugh. As ever [you] heard, but say nothing.1 Fr. No.Daugh. They come from all parts of the Dukedom to him,I'll warrant ye, he had not so few last nightAs twenty, to dispatch, he'll tickle't upIn two hours, if his hand be in.Jay. She's lostPast all cure.Bro. Heaven forbid man.Daug. Come hither, you are a wise man.1 Fr. Does she know him?2 Fr. No, would she did.Daugh. You are master of a Ship?Jay. Yes.Daugh. Where's your Compass?Jay. Here.Daugh. Set it to th' North.And now direct your course to th' wood, where PalamonLies longing for me; for the TacklingLet me alone; come weigh my hearts, cheerly.All. Owgh, owgh, owgh, 'tis up, the wind's fair, top theBowling; out with the main sail, where's yourWhistle Master?Bro. Let's get her in.Jay. Up to the top Boy.Bro. Where's the Pilot?1 Fr. Here.Daugh. What ken'st thou?3 Fr. A fair wood.Daugh. Bear for it master: tack about:[Sings.When Cinthia with her borrowed light, &c.[Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda

Enter Emilia alone, with two PicturesEmil. Yet I may bind those wounds up, that must openAnd bleed to death for my sake else; I'll choose,And end their strife: two such young handsome menShall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers,Following the dead cold ashes of their SonsShall never curse my cruelty: Good Heaven;What a sweet face has Arcite, if wise natureWith all her best endowments, all those beautiesShe [sowes] into the births of noble bodies,Were here a mortal woman, and had in herThe 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 Ganimead,Set Love a fire with, and enforc'd the godSnatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by himA shining constellation: what a brow,Of what a spacious Majesty he carries!Arch'd like the great ey'd Juno's, but far sweeter,Smoother than Pelops Shoulder! Fame and HonorMethinks from hence, as from a PromontoryPointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and singTo all the under world, the Loves, and FightsOf gods, and such men near 'em. Palamon,Is but his foil, to him, a mere dull shadow,He's swarth, and meagre, of an eye as heavyAs if he had lost his mother; a still temper,No stirring in him, no alacrity,Of all this sprightly sharpness, not a smile;Yet these that we count errors, may become him:Narcissus was a sad Boy, but a heavenly:Oh who can find the bent of womans fancy?I'm a fool, my reason is lost in me,I have no choice, and I have ly'd so lewdlyThat Women ought to beat me. On my kneesI ask thy pardon: Palamon, thou art alone,And only beautiful, and these th[e] eyes,These the bright lamps of Beauty that commandAnd threaten Love, and what young Maid dare cross 'emWhat a bold gravity, and yet invitingHas this brown manly face! Oh Love, this onlyFrom this hour is complexion: lye there Arcite,Thou art a changling to him, a mere Gipsie.And this the noble Bodie: I am sotted,Utterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me.For if my Brother, but even now had ask'd meWhether I lov'd, I had run mad for Arcite.Now if my Sister; More for Palamon.Stand both together: now, come ask me Brother,Alas, I know not: ask me now sweet Sister,I may go look; what a mere child is Fancie,That having two fair gawds of equal sweetness,Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both. Enter Emil. and GentEmil. How now Sir?Gent. From the Noble Duke your BrotherMadam, I bring you news: the Knights are come.Emil. To end the quarrel?Gent. Yes.Emil. Would I might end first:What sins have I committed, chaste Diana,That my unspotted youth must now be soil'dWith bloud of Princes? and my ChastityBe made the Altar, where the Lives of Lovers,Two greater, and two better never yetMade Mothers joy, must be the sacrificeTo my unhappy Beauty? Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Perithous, and AttendantsThes. Bring 'em in quickly,By any means I long to see 'em.Your two contending Lovers are return'd,And with them their fair Knights: Now my fair Sister,You must love one of them.Emil. I had rather both,So neither for my sake should fall untimely. Enter Messenger. CurtisThes. Who saw 'em?Per. I a while.Gent. And I.Thes. From whence come you, Sir?Mess. From the Knights.Thes. Pray speakYou that have seen them, what they are.Mess. I will Sir,And truly what I think: six braver spiritsThan those they have brought, (if we judge by the outside)I never saw, nor read of: he that standsIn the first place with Arcite, by his seemingShould be a stout man, by his face a Prince,(His very looks so say him) his complexion,Nearer a brown, than black; stern, and yet noble,Which shews him hardy, fearless, proud of dangers:The circles of his eyes, shew fair within him,And as a heated Lion, so he looks:His hair hangs long behind him, black and shiningLike Ravens wings: his shoulders broad, and strong,Arm'd long and round, and on his Thigh a SwordHung by a curious Bauldrick: when he frownsTo seal his Will with, better o' my conscienceWas never Soldiers friend.Thes. Thou hast well describ'd him.Per. Yet, a great deal shortMethinks, of him that's first with Palamon.Thes. Pray speak him friend.Per. I ghess he is a Prince too,And if it may be, greater; for his showHas all the ornament of honor in't:He's somewhat bigger than the Knight he spoke of,But of a face far sweeter; his complexionIs (as a ripe Grape) ruddy: he has feltWithout doubt, what he fights for, and so apterTo make this cause his own: in's face appearsAll the fair hopes of what he undertakes,And when he's angry, then a setled valour(Not tainted with extreams) runs through his body,And guides his arm to brave things: Fear he cannot,He shews no such soft temper, his head's yellow,Hard hair'd, and curl'd, thick twin'd, like Ivy tops,No[t] to undoe with thunder; in his faceThe Livery of the warlike Maid appears,Pure red and white, for yet no beard has blest him.And in his rowling eyes sits victory,As if she ever meant to correct his valour:His Nose stands high, a Character of honor,His red Lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.Emil. Must these men die too?Per. When he speaks, his tongueSounds like a Trumpet; all his lineamentsAre as a man would wish 'em, strong and clean,He wears a well-steel'd Axe, the staffe of Gold,His age some five and twenty.Mess. There's another,A little man, but of a tough soul, seemingAs great as any, fairer promisesIn such a Body yet I never look'd on.Per. Oh he that's freckle fac'd?Mess. The same my Lord,Are they not sweet ones?Per. Yes, they are well.Mess. Methinks,Being so few, and well dispos'd, they shewGreat, and fine Art in nature, he's white hair'd,Not wanton white, but such a manly colourNext to an aborn, tough, and nimble set,Which shows an active soul: his arms are brawnyLin'd with strong sinews: to the shoulder-piece,Gently they swell, like Women new conceiv'd,Which speaks him prone to labour, never faintingUnder the weight of Arms, stout-hearted still,But when he stirs, a Tiger; he's grey ey'd,Which yields compassion where he conquers: sharpTo spie advantages, and where he finds 'em,He's swift to make 'em his: He does no wrongs,Nor takes none; he's round fac'd, and when he smilesHe shows a Lover, when he frowns, a Soldier:About his head he wears the winners oak,And in it stuck the favour of his Lady:His age, some six and thirty. In his handHe bears a Charging Staffe, emboss'd with Silver.Thes. Are they all thus?Per. They are all the sons of honor.Thes. Now as I have a soul, I long to see 'em,Lady, you shall see men fight now.Hip. I wish it,But not the cause my Lord; They would shewBravely about the Titles of two Kingdoms;'Tis pity Love should be so tyrannous:Oh my soft-hearted Sister, what think you?Weep not, till they weep bloud: Wench it must be.Thes. You have steel'd 'em with your Beauty: honor'd friend,To you I give the Field; pray order it,Fitting the persons that must use it.Per. Yes Sir.Thes. Come, I'll go visit 'em: I cannot stay,Their fame has fir'd me so; till they appear,Good friend be royal.Per. There shall want no bravery.Emil. Poor wench go weep, for whosoever wins,Looses a noble Cosin, for thy sins.[Exeunt.