EMILIA.
Must these men die too?
PERITHOUS.
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.
MESSENGER.
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.
PERITHOUS.
O, he that’s freckle fac’d?
MESSENGER.
The same, my Lord;
Are they not sweet ones?
PERITHOUS.
Yes, they are well.
MESSENGER.
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.
THESEUS.
Are they all thus?
PERITHOUS.
They are all the sonnes of honour.
THESEUS.
Now, as I have a soule, I long to see’em.
Lady, you shall see men fight now.
HIPPOLITA.
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.
THESEUS.
You have steel’d ‘em with your Beautie.—Honord Friend,
To you I give the Feild; pray, order it
Fitting the persons that must use it.
PERITHOUS.
Yes, Sir.
THESEUS.
Come, Ile goe visit ‘em: I cannot stay,
Their fame has fir’d me so; Till they appeare.
Good Friend, be royall.
PERITHOUS.
There shall want no bravery.
EMILIA.
Poore wench, goe weepe, for whosoever wins,
Looses a noble Cosen for thy sins. [Exeunt.]
Scaena 3. (A room in the prison.)
[Enter Iailor, Wooer, Doctor.]
DOCTOR.
Her distraction is more at some time of the Moone, then at other some, is it not?
IAILOR.
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 withall, fyts it to every question.—
[Enter Daughter.]
Looke where shee comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.
DAUGHTER.
I have forgot it quite; The burden on’t, was DOWNE A, DOWNE A, and pend by no worse man, then 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.
DOCTOR.
What stuff’s here? pore soule!
IAILOR.
Ev’n thus all day long.
DAUGHTER.
Now for this Charme, that I told you of: you must bring a peece of silver on the tip of your tongue, 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—
DOCTOR.
How prettily she’s amisse? note her a little further.
DAUGHTER.
Faith, ile tell you, sometime we goe to Barly breake, we of the blessed; alas, tis a sore life they have i’th other 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.]
DOCTOR.
How her braine coynes!
DAUGHTER.
Lords and Courtiers, that have got maids with Child, they are in this place: they shall stand in fire up to the Nav’le, and in yce up to’th hart, and there th’offending part burnes, and the deceaving part freezes; in troth, a very greevous punishment, as one would thinke, for such a Trifle; beleve me, one would marry a leaprous witch, to be rid on’t, Ile assure you.
DOCTOR.
How she continues this fancie! Tis not an engraffed Madnesse, but a most thicke, and profound mellencholly.
DAUGHTER.
To heare there a proud Lady, and a proud Citty wiffe, howle together! I were a beast and il’d call it good sport: one cries, ‘O this smoake!’ another, ‘this fire!’ One cries, ‘O, that ever I did it behind the arras!’ and then howles; th’other curses a suing fellow and her garden house. [Sings] I will be true, my stars, my fate, &c. [Exit Daugh.]
IAILOR.
What thinke you of her, Sir?
DOCTOR.