Her Bow away, and sigh. Take to thy grace
Me, thy vowd Souldier, who doe beare thy yoke
As t’wer a wreath of Roses, yet is heavier
Then Lead it selfe, stings more than Nettles.
I have never beene foule mouthd against thy law,
Nev’r reveald secret, for I knew none—would not,
Had I kend all that were; I never practised
Vpon mans wife, nor would the Libells reade
Of liberall wits; I never at great feastes
Sought to betray a Beautie, but have blush’d
At simpring Sirs that did; I have beene harsh
To large Confessors, and have hotly ask’d them
If they had Mothers: I had one, a woman,
And women t’wer they wrong’d. I knew a man
Of eightie winters, this I told them, who
A Lasse of foureteene brided; twas thy power
To put life into dust; the aged Crampe
Had screw’d his square foote round,
The Gout had knit his fingers into knots,
Torturing Convulsions from his globie eyes,
Had almost drawne their spheeres, that what was life
In him seem’d torture: this Anatomie
Had by his yong faire pheare a Boy, and I
Beleev’d it was him, for she swore it was,
And who would not beleeve her? briefe, I am
To those that prate and have done no Companion;
To those that boast and have not a defyer;
To those that would and cannot a Rejoycer.
Yea, him I doe not love, that tells close offices
The fowlest way, nor names concealements in
The boldest language: such a one I am,
And vow that lover never yet made sigh
Truer then I. O, then, most soft, sweet goddesse,
Give me the victory of this question, which
Is true loves merit, and blesse me with a signe
Of thy great pleasure.
[Here Musicke is heard, Doves are seene to flutter; they fall
againe upon their faces, then on their knees.]
PALAMON.
O thou, that from eleven to ninetie raign’st
In mortall bosomes, whose chase is this world,
And we in heards thy game: I give thee thankes
For this faire Token, which, being layd unto
Mine innocent true heart, armes in assurance [They bow.]
My body to this businesse. Let us rise
And bow before the goddesse: Time comes on. [Exeunt.]
[Still Musicke of Records.]
[Enter Emilia in white, her haire about her shoulders, (wearing) a wheaten wreath: One in white holding up her traine, her haire stucke with flowers: One before her carrying a silver Hynde, in which is conveyd Incense and sweet odours, which being set upon the Altar (of Diana) her maides standing a loofe, she sets fire to it; then they curtsey and kneele.]
EMILIA.
O sacred, shadowie, cold and constant Queene,
Abandoner of Revells, mute, contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As windefand Snow, who to thy femall knights
Alow’st no more blood than will make a blush,
Which is their orders robe: I heere, thy Priest,
Am humbled fore thine Altar; O vouchsafe,
With that thy rare greene eye, which never yet
Beheld thing maculate, looke on thy virgin;
And, sacred silver Mistris, lend thine eare
(Which nev’r heard scurrill terme, into whose port
Ne’re entred wanton found,) to my petition
Seasond with holy feare: This is my last
Of vestall office; I am bride habited,
But mayden harted, a husband I have pointed,
But doe not know him; out of two I should
Choose one and pray for his successe, but I
Am guiltlesse of election: of mine eyes,
Were I to loose one, they are equall precious,
I could doombe neither, that which perish’d should
Goe too’t unsentenc’d: Therefore, most modest Queene,
He of the two Pretenders, that best loves me
And has the truest title in’t, Let him
Take off my wheaten Gerland, or else grant
The fyle and qualitie I hold, I may
Continue in thy Band.
[Here the Hynde vanishes under the Altar: and in the place ascends
a Rose Tree, having one Rose upon it.]
See what our Generall of Ebbs and Flowes
Out from the bowells of her holy Altar
With sacred act advances! But one Rose:
If well inspird, this Battaile shal confound
Both these brave Knights, and I, a virgin flowre
Must grow alone unpluck’d.
[Here is heard a sodaine twang of Instruments, and the Rose fals\
from the Tree (which vanishes under the altar.)]
The flowre is falne, the Tree descends: O, Mistris,
Thou here dischargest me; I shall be gather’d:
I thinke so, but I know not thine owne will;
Vnclaspe thy Misterie.—I hope she’s pleas’d,
Her Signes were gratious. [They curtsey and Exeunt.]
Scaena 2. (A darkened Room in the Prison.) [Enter Doctor, Iaylor and Wooer, in habite of Palamon.]
DOCTOR.
Has this advice I told you, done any good upon her?
WOOER.
O very much; The maids that kept her company
Have halfe perswaded her that I am Palamon;
Within this halfe houre she came smiling to me,
And asked me what I would eate, and when I would kisse her:
I told her presently, and kist her twice.
DOCTOR.
Twas well done; twentie times had bin far better,
For there the cure lies mainely.
WOOER.
Then she told me
She would watch with me to night, for well she knew
What houre my fit would take me.
DOCTOR.
Let her doe so,
And when your fit comes, fit her home,
And presently.
WOOER.
She would have me sing.