The Two Noble Kinsmen
Act IV

IV.i

Enter Jailer, and his friend.


JAILER
  Heard you no more? Was nothing said of me
  Concerning the escape of Palamon?
  Good sir, remember!

1. FRIEND
                      Nothing that I heard,
  For I came home before the business
  Was fully ended. Yet I might perceive
  Ere I departed, a great likelihood
  Of both their pardons. For Hippolyta
  And fair-eyed Emily, upon their knees
  Begged with such handsome pity, that the Duke
  Methought stood staggering, whether he should follow
  His rash oath, or the sweet compassion
  Of those two ladies; and to second them,
  That truely noble Prince Pirithous,
  Half his own heart, set in too, that I hope
  All shall be well. Neither heard I one question
  Of your name, or his 'scape. 

Enter 2. Friend.

JAILER
  Pray heaven it hold so.

2. FRIEND
  Be of good comfort man; I bring you news,
  Good news!

JAILER
              They are welcome,

2. FRIEND
                                 Palamon has cleared you,
  And got your pardon, and discovered how
  And by whose means he 'scaped - which was your daughter's,
  Whose pardon is procured too; and the prisoner,
  Not to be held ungrateful to her goodness,
  Has given a sum of money to her marriage:
  A large one, I'll assure you.

JAILER
                                 Ye are a good man
  And ever bring good news.

1. FRIEND
                             How was it ended?

2. FRIEND
  Why, as it should be; they that never begged
  But they prevailed, had their suits fairly granted:
  The prisoners have their lives.

1. FRIEND
                                   I knew t'would be so.
2. FRIEND
  But there be new conditions, which you'll hear of
  At better time.

JAILER
  I hope they are good.

2. FRIEND
                         They are honourable,
  How good they'l prove, I know not.

Enter Wooer.

1. FRIEND
                                      T'will be known.

WOOER
  Alas, sir, where's your daughter?

JAILER
  Why do you ask?

WOOER
  O, sir! When did you see her?

2. FRIEND
                                How he looks!

JAILER
  This morning.

WOOER
                Was she well? Was she in health? Sir,
  When did she sleep? 

JAILER
  I do not think she was very well, for now
  You make me mind her: but this very day
  I asked her questions, and she answered me
  So 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?

WOOER
                       Nothing but mt pity.
  But you must know it, and as good by me
  As by another that less loves her.

JAILER
  Well, sir?

1. FRIEND
             Not right?

2. FRIEND
                        Not well?  
WOOER
                                  No, sir, not well:
  Tis too true, she is mad!

1. FRIEND
                             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,
  I heard a voice, a shrill one, and attentive
  I gave my ear, when I might well perceive
  T'was 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
  Who made the sound, the rushes and the reeds
  Had so encompassed it. I laid me down
  And listned 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.
WOOER
  She sang 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."

1. FRIEND
                               Pretty soul!

WOOER
  "His shackles will betray him, he'll be taken,
  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,
  And beg his pardon." Then she talk'd 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
  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 colors.
  That methought she appeard 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",
  "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 smiled and kissed her hand.

2. FRIEND
  Alas, what pity it is!

WOOER
                         I made in to her.
  She saw me, and straight sought the flood! I saved her,
  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
  I knew to be your brother - where she stayed
  And fell, scarce to be got away. I left them with her,

Enter Brother, Daughter, and others.

  And hither came to tell you. Here they are.

DAUGTHER
    May you never more enjoy the light, &c.
  Is not this a fine Song?

BROTHER
                            Oh, a very fine one.

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 rarely, I must be abroad else
  To call the maids and pay the minstrels,
  For I must lose my maidenhead by cocklight;
  'Twill never thrive else.
     O faire, oh sweete, &c. 

sings.

BROTHER
  You must ev'n take it patiently.

JAILER
                                   'Tis true,

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.

1. FRIEND
                                Yes, he's a fine man.

DAUGHTER
  O, is he so? You have a sister.

1.FRIEND
                                    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
  Of our town are in love with him, but I laugh at'em
  And let 'em all alone; is't not a wise course?

1. FRIEND
  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
  (He has the trick on't) and at ten years old
  They must be all gelt for musicians,
  And sing the wars of Theseus.

2. FRIEND
                                 This is strange.

DAUGHTER
  As ever you heard, but say nothing.

1. FRIEND
                                     No.

DAUGHTER                             
  They come from all parts of the dukedom to him.
  I'll warrant ye, he had not so few last night
  As twenty to dispatch -he'll tickl't up
  In two hours, if his hand be in.

JAILER
                                    She's lost
  Past all cure.

BROTHER
                    Heaven forbid, man!

DAUGHTER
                                         Come hither! 
You are a wise man.

1. FRIEND
                     Does she know him?

1. FRIEND
                                         No. 
  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!

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?

1. FRIEND
                                          Here.

DAUGHTER
  What kenn'st thou?

2. FRIEND
                     A fair wood.

DAUGHTER
                                   Bear for it master;
  Tack about! 

Sings.

    When Cynthia with her borrowed light, &c. 

Exeunt.

IV.ii

Scaena 2. Enter Emilia alone, with 2. Pictures.


And end their strife: Two such yong hansom men
Shall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers,
Following the dead cold ashes of their Sonnes
Shall never curse my cruelty: Good heaven,
What a sweet face has Arcite? If wise nature
With all her best endowments, all those beuties
She sowes into the birthes of noble bodies,
Were here a mortall woman, and had in her
The coy denialls of yong Maydes, yet doubtles,
She would run mad for this man: what an eye?
Of what a fyry sparkle, and quick sweetnes,
Has this yong Prince? Here Love himselfe sits smyling,
Iust such another wanton Ganimead,
Set Love a fire with, and enforcd 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?
Arch'd like the great eyd Iuno's, but far sweeter,
Smoother then Pelops Shoulder? Fame and honour
Me thinks 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 neere 'em. Palamon,
Is but his foyle, to him, a meere dull shadow,
Hee's swarth, 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 sharpenes, not a smile;
Yet these that we count errours may become him:
Narcissus was a sad Boy, but a heavenly:
Oh who can finde the bent of womans fancy?
I am a Foole, my reason is lost in me,
I have no choice, and I have ly'd so lewdly
That women ought to beate me. On my knees
I aske thy pardon: Palamon, thou art alone,
And only beutifull, and these the eyes,
These the bright lamps of beauty, that command
And threaten Love, and what yong Mayd dare crosse 'em
What a bold gravity, and yet inviting
Has this browne manly face? O Love, this only
From this howre is Complexion: Lye there Arcite,
Thou art a changling to him, a meere Gipsey.
And this the noble Bodie: I am sotted,
Vtterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me.
For if my brother but even now had ask'd me
Whether I lov'd, I had run mad for Arcite,
Now if my Sister; More for Palamon,
Stand both together: Now, come aske me Brother,
Alas, I know not: aske me now sweet Sister,
I may goe looke; What a meere child is Fancie,
That having two faire gawdes of equall sweetnesse,
Cannot distinguish, but must crie for both.


Enter Emil. and Gent.


Emil.
How now Sir?

Gent.
From the Noble Duke your Brother
Madam, I bring you newes: The Knights are come.

Emil.
To end the quarrell?

Gent.
Yes.

Emil.
Would I might end first:
What sinnes have I committed, chast Diana,
That my unspotted youth must now be soyld
With blood of Princes? and my Chastitie
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 Beautie?


Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Perithous and attendants.


Theseus.
Bring 'em in quickly,
By any meanes, I long to see 'em.
Your two contending Lovers are return'd,
And with them their faire Knights: Now my faire Sister,
You must love one of them.

Emil.
I had rather both,
So neither for my sake should fall untimely


Enter Messengers. Curtis.


Thes.
Who saw 'em

Per.
I a while.

Gent.
And I.

Thes.
From whence come you Sir?

Mess.
From the Knights.

Thes.
Pray speake
You that have seene them, what they are.

Mess.
I will Sir.
And truly what I thinke: Six braver spirits
Then these they have brought, (if we judge by the outside)
I never saw, nor read of. He that stands
In the first place with Arcite, by his seeming
Should be a stout man, by his face a Prince,
(His very lookes so say him) his complexion,
Nearer a browne, than blacke; sterne, and yet noble,
Which shewes him hardy, fearelesse, proud of dangers:
The circles of his eyes show faire within him,
And as a heated Lyon, so he lookes;
His haire hangs long behind him, blacke and shining
Like Ravens wings: his shoulders broad, and strong,
Armd long and round, and on his Thigh a Sword
Hung by a curious Bauldricke; when he frownes
To seale his will with, better o'my conscience
Was never Souldiers friend.

Thes.
Thou ha'st well describde him,

Per.
Yet a great deale short
Me thinkes, of him that's first with Palamon.

Thes.
Pray speake him friend.

Per.
I ghesse he is a Prince too,
And if it may be, greater; for his show
Has all the ornament of honour in't:
Hee's somewhat bigger, then the Knight he spoke of,
But of a face far sweeter; His complexion
Is (as a ripe grape) ruddy: he has felt
Without doubt what he fights for, and so apter
To make this cause his owne: In's face appeares
All the faire hopes of what he undertakes,
And when he's angry, then a setled valour
(Not tainted with extreames) runs through his body,
And guides his arme to brave things: Feare he cannot,
He shewes no such soft temper, his head's yellow,
Hard hayr'd, and curld, thicke twind like Ivy tops,
Not to undoe with thunder; In his face
The liverie of the warlike Maide appeares,
Pure red, and white, for yet no beard has blest him.
And in his rowling eyes, sits victory,
As if she ever ment to corect his valour:
His Nose stands high, a Character of honour.
His red lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.

Emil.
Must these men die too?

Per.
When he speakes, his tongue
Sounds like a Trumpet; All his lyneaments
Are as a man would wish 'em, strong, and cleane,
He weares a well-steeld Axe, the staffe of gold,
His age some five and twenty.

Mess.
Ther's another,
A little man, but of a tough soule, seeming
As great as any: fairer promises
In such a Body, yet I never look'd on.

Per.
O, he that's freckle fac'd?

Mess.
The same my Lord,
Are they not sweet ones?

Per.
Yes they are well.

Mess.
Me thinkes,
Being so few, and well disposd, they show
Great, and fine art in nature, he's white hair'd,
Not wanton white, but such a manly colour
Next to an aborne, tough, and nimble set,
Which showes an active soule; his armes are brawny
Linde with strong sinewes: To the shoulder peece,
Gently they swell, like women new conceav'd,
Which speakes him prone to labour, never fainting
Vnder the waight of Armes; stout harted, still,
But when he stirs, a Tiger; he's gray eyd,
Which yeelds compassion where he conquers: sharpe
To spy advantages, and where he finds 'em,
He's swift to make 'em his: He do's no wrongs,
Nor takes none; he's round fac'd, and when he smiles
He showes a Lover, when he frownes, a Souldier:
About his head he weares the winners oke,
And in it stucke the favour of his Lady:
His age, some six and thirtie. In his hand
He beares a charging Staffe, embost with silver.

Thes.
Are they all thus?

Per.
They are all the sonnes of honour.

Thes.
Now as I have a soule I long to see 'em.
Lady you shall see men fight now.

Hip.
I wish it,
But not the cause my Lord; They would show
Bravely about the Titles of two Kingdomes;
Tis pitty Love should be so tyrannous:
O my soft harted Sister, what thinke you?
Weepe not, till they weepe blood; Wench it must be.


Thes.
You have steel'd 'em with your Beautie: honord (Friend, 
Fitting the persons that must use it.

Per.
Yes Sir.

Thes.
Come, Ile goe visit 'em: I cannot stay,
Their fame has fir'd me so; Till they appeare,
Good Friend be royall.

Per.
There shall want no bravery.

Emilia.
Poore wench goe weepe, for whosoever wins,
Looses a noble Cosen, for thy sins. 

Exeunt.

IV.iii

Scaena 3. Enter Iailor, Wooer, Doctor.



Iay.
She is continually in a harmelesse distemper, sleepes
Little, altogether without appetite, save often drinking,
Dreaming of another world, and a better; and what
Broken peece of matter so'ere she's about, the name

Palamon
lardes it, that she farces ev'ry busines


Enter Daughter.

Withall, fyts it to every question; Looke where
Shee comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.


Giraldo, Emilias Schoolemaster; he's as
Fantasticall too, as ever he may goe upon's legs,
For in the next world will Dido see Palamon, and
Then will she be out of love with Eneas.

Doct.
What stuff's here? pore soule.

Ioy.
Ev'n thus all day long.


Or no ferry: then if it be your chance to come where
The blessed spirits, as ther's a sight now; we maids
That have our Lyvers, perish'd, crakt to peeces with
Love, we shall come there, and doe nothing all day long
But picke flowers with Proserpine, then will I make
Palamon a Nosegay, then let him marke me, = then.



Thother place, such burning, frying, boyling, hissing,
Howling, chattring, cursing, oh they have shrowd
Measure, take heede; if one be mad, or hang or
Drowne themselves, thither they goe, Iupiter blesse
Vs, and there shall we be put in a Caldron of
Lead, and Vsurers grease, amongst a whole million of
Cutpurses, and there boyle like a Gamon of Bacon
That will never be enough. 

Exit.


Doct.
How her braine coynes?
















Sings.
I will be true, my stars, my fate, &c. 


Exit. Daugh.

Iay.
What thinke you of her Sir?

(minister to. 

Doct.
Vnderstand you, she ever affected any man, ere
She beheld Palamon?

Iay.
I was once Sir, in great hope, she had fixd her
Liking on this gentleman my friend.

Woo.
I did thinke so too, and would account I had a (great
Pen-worth on't, to give halfe my state, that both
She and I at this present, stood unfainedly on the
Same tearmes.


Execute their preordaind faculties, but they are
Now in a most extravagant vagary. This you
Must doe, Confine her to a place, where the light
May rather seeme to steale in, then be permitted; take
Vpon you (yong Sir her friend) the name of
Palamon, say you come to eate with her, and to
Commune of Love; this will catch her attention, for
This her minde beates upon; other objects that are
Inserted tweene her minde and eye, become the prankes
And friskins of her madnes; Sing to her, such greene
Songs of Love, as she sayes Palamon hath sung in
Prison; Come to her, stucke in as sweet flowers, as the
Season is mistres of, and thereto make an addition of
Som other compounded odours, which are grateful to the
Sence: all this shall become Palamon, for Palamon can
Sing, and Palamon is sweet, and ev'ry good thing, desire
To eate with her, crave her, drinke to her, and still
Among, intermingle your petition of grace and acceptance
Into her favour: Learne what Maides have beene her
Companions, and play-pheeres, and let them repaire to
Her with Palamon in their mouthes, and appeare with
Tokens, as if they suggested for him, It is a falsehood
She is in, which is with falsehoods to be combated.
This may bring her to eate, to sleepe, and reduce what's
Now out of square in her, into their former law, and
Regiment; I have seene it approved, how many times
I know not, but to make the number more, I have
Great hope in this. I will betweene the passages of
This project, come in with my applyance: Let us