Two Noble Kinsmen

1. QUEEN. Yours this way. Heavens lend A thousand differing ways to one sure end. 3. QUEEN. This world’s a city full of straying streets, And death’s the market-place, where each one meets.

about her stuck Thousand fresh water-flowers of several colors, That methought she appear’d like the fair nymph That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris Newly dropp’d down from heaven.

Alas, the prison I keep, though it be for great ones, yet they seldom come: before one salmon, you shall take a number of minnows. I am given out to be better lin’d than it can appear to me report is a true speaker.

and a good play (Whose modest scenes blush on his marriage-day, And shake to lose his honor) is like her That after holy tie and first night’s stir, Yet still is modesty, and still retains More of the maid to sight than husband’s pains.

And my chastity 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 beauty?

And that work presents itself to th’ doing: Now ’twill take form, the heats are gone tomorrow. Then, bootless toil must recompense itself With its own sweat;

As we are men Thus should we do, being sensually subdu’d We lose our human title. Good cheer, ladies. Now turn we towards your comforts.

Banish’d the kingdom? ’Tis a benefit, A mercy I must thank ’em for; but banish’d The free enjoying of that face I die for— O, ’twas a studied punishment, a death Beyond imagination!

Be wise then And here forget ’em; it concerns your credit And my oath equally. I have said they die; Better they fall by th’ law than one another. Bow not my honor.

Before the holy altars of your helpers, The all-fear’d gods, bow down your stubborn bodies. Your ire is more than mortal; so your help be; And as the gods regard ye, fight with justice.

but I And she (I sigh and spoke of) were things innocent, Lov’d for we did, and like the elements That know not what nor why, yet do effect Rare issues by their operance, our souls Did so to one another.

But the whole week’s not fair If any day it rain. Their valiant temper Men lose when they incline to treachery, And then they fight like compell’d bears, would fly Were they not tied.

But those we will depute which shall invest You in your dignities, and even each thing Our haste does leave imperfect. So adieu, And heaven’s good eyes look on you!

By any means; our thing of learning says so— Where he himself will edify the Duke Most parlously in our behalfs. He’s excellent i’ th’ woods, Bring him to th’ plains, his learning makes no cry.

By th’ helm of Mars, I saw them in the war, Like to a pair of lions smear’d with prey, Make lanes in troops aghast. I fix’d my note Constantly on them; for they were a mark Worth a god’s view.

Clear-spirited cousin, Let’s leave his court, that we may nothing share Of his loud infamy; for our milk Will relish of the pasture, and we must Be vile, or disobedient—not his kinsmen In blood unless in quality.

Come to her, stuck in as sweet flowers as the season is mistress of, and thereto make an addition of some other compounded odors which are grateful to the sense.

Come, I’ll give ye Now usage like to princes and to friends. When ye return, who wins I’ll settle here; Who loses, yet I’ll weep upon his bier.

Content to you! If this play do not keep A little dull time from us, we perceive Our losses fall so thick we must needs leave.

Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood, And our prime cousin, yet unhard’ned in The crimes of nature—let us leave the city Thebes, and the temptings in’t, before we further Sully our gloss of youth:

Even from the bottom of these miseries, From all that fortune can inflict upon us, I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings, If the gods please—to hold here a brave patience, And the enjoying of our griefs together.

Ev’ry blow that falls Threats a brave life, each stroke laments The place whereon it falls, and sounds more like A bell than blade.

Fairest Emily, The gods by their divine arbitrement Have given you this knight: he is a good one As ever strook at head. Give me your hands. Receive you her, you him, be plighted with A love that grows as you decay.

God’s lid, his richness And costliness of spirit look’d 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.

Good heaven, What a sweet face has Arcite! If wise Nature, With all her best endowments, all those beauties She sows into the births of noble bodies, Were here a mortal woman, and had in her The coy denials of young maids, yet doubtless She would run mad for this man.

Hail, sovereign queen of secrets, who hast power To call the fiercest tyrant from his rage, And weep unto a girl; that hast the might, Even with an eye-glance, to choke Mars’s drum And turn th’ alarm to whispers;

He that will all the treasure know o’ th’ earth Must know the centre too; he that will fish For my least minnow, let him lead his line To catch one at my heart. O, pardon me, Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits, Makes me a fool.

Here we are, And here the graces of our youths must wither Like a too-timely spring. Here age must find us, And which is heaviest, Palamon, unmarried.

He’s grey-ey’d, Which yields compassion where he conquers; sharp To spy 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 smiles He shows a lover, when he frowns, a soldier. About his head he wears the winner’s oak, And in it stuck the favor of his lady.

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 own.

his shoulders broad and strong, Arm’d long and round, and on his thigh a sword Hung by a curious baldrick, when he frowns To seal his will with. Better, o’ my conscience, Was never soldier’s friend.

I am in labor To push your name, your ancient love, our kindred, Out of my memory; and i’ th’ self-same place To seat something I would confound. So hoist we The sails that must these vessels port even where The heavenly limiter pleases.

I could have kept a hawk, and well have hollow’d To a deep cry of dogs; I dare not praise My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me Would say it was my best piece; last, and greatest, I would be thought a soldier.

I did think so too, and would account I had a great penn’worth on’t to give half my state that both she and I at this present stood unfeignedly on the same terms.

I find the court here, I am sure, a more content, and all those pleasures That woo the wills of men to vanity I see through now, and am sufficient To tell the world ’tis but a gaudy shadow That old Time, as he passes by, takes with him.

I say again, I love, and in loving her maintain I am as worthy and as free a lover, And have as just a title to her beauty, As any Palamon or any living That is a man’s son.

I spake of Thebes, How dangerous, if we will keep our honors, It is for our residing; where every evil Hath a good color; where ev’ry seeming good’s A certain evil;

I will stay here, It is enough my hearing shall be punish’d With what shall happen—’gainst the which there is No deafing—but to hear, not taint mine eye With dread sights it may shun.

I will, sir, And truly what I think. Six braver spirits Than these they have brought (if we judge by the outside) I never saw nor read of.

If not above him, for Thou being but mortal makest affections bend To godlike honors; they themselves, some say, Groan under such a mast’ry.

If thou be’st, As thou art spoken, great and virtuous, The true decider of all injuries, Say, “Fight again!” and thou shalt see me, Theseus, Do such a justice thou thyself wilt envy.

If you be seen, you perish instantly For 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.

In ’s face appears All the fair hopes of what he undertakes, And when he’s angry, then a settled valor (Not tainted with extremes) runs through his body, And guides his arm to brave things.

It is the very emblem of a maid; For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blows, and paints the sun With her chaste blushes!

I’ll venture, And in some poor disguise be there. Who knows Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands, And happiness prefer me to a place Where I may ever dwell in sight of her?

Let it here be done. The scene’s not for our seeing, go we hence, Right joyful, with some sorrow.—Arm your prize, I know you will not loose her.—Hippolyta, I see one eye of yours conceives a tear, The which it will deliver.

Let me say thus much: if in love be treason In service of so excellent a beauty, As I love most, and in that faith will perish, As I have brought my life here to confirm it, As I have serv’d her truest, worthiest, As I dare kill this cousin that denies it, So let me be most traitor, and ye please me.

Let no due be wanting; They have a noble work in hand will honor The very powers that love ’em.

Let th’ event, That never-erring arbitrator, tell us When we know all ourselves, and let us follow The becking of our chance.

Let us be thankful For that which is, and with you leave dispute That are above our question. Let’s go off, And bear us like the time.

May the stag thou hunt’st stand long, And thy dogs be swift and strong! May they kill him without lets, And the ladies eat his dowsets!

me thy pupil, Youngest follower of thy drum, instruct this day With military skill, that to thy laud I may advance my streamer, and by thee Be styl’d the lord o’ th’ day.

Nay, most likely, for they are noble suff’rers. I marvel how they would have look’d had they been victors, that with such a constant nobility enforce a freedom out of bondage, making misery their mirth, and affliction a toy to jest at.

Never fortune Did play a subtler game. The conquer’d triumphs, The victor has the loss; yet in the passage The gods have been most equal.

No, no, I lie: My father’s to be hang’d for his escape, Myself to beg, if I priz’d life so much As to deny my act, but that I would not, Should I try death by dozens.

Noble Theseus, To purchase name, and do my ablest service To such a well-found wonder as thy worth, For only in thy court, of all the world, Dwells fair-ey’d honor.

Not finding in The circuit of my breast any gross stuff To form me like your blazon, holds me to This gentleness of answer: ’tis your passion That thus mistakes, the which to you being enemy, Cannot to me be kind.

Nothing truer. I think the echoes of his shames have deaf’d The ears of heav’nly justice. Widows’ cries Descend again into their throats, and have not Due audience of the gods.

Now let ’em enter, and before the gods Tender their holy prayers. Let the temples Burn bright with sacred fires, and the altars In hallowed clouds commend their swelling incense To those above us.

O you heavenly charmers, What things you make of us! For what we lack We laugh, for what we have are sorry, still Are children in some kind.

O, if thou couch But one night with her, every hour in’t will Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and Thou shalt remember nothing more than what That banquet bids thee to!

O, never Shall we two exercise, like twins of honor, Our arms again, and feel our fiery horses Like proud seas under us.

on this horse is Arcite Trotting the stones of Athens, which the calkins Did rather tell than trample; for the horse Would make his length a mile, if’t pleas’d his rider To put pride in him.

Once he kiss’d me— I lov’d my lips the better ten days after. Would he would do so ev’ry day! He grieves much, And me as much to see his misery.

Or I will make th’ advantage of this hour Mine own; and what to come shall threaten me I fear less than my fortune. Know, weak cousin, I love Emilia, and in that I’ll bury Thee and all crosses else.

Or to be fond upon Another’s way of speech, when by mine own I may be reasonably conceiv’d; sav’d too, Speaking it truly?

Owgh, owgh, owgh! ’Tis up! The wind’s fair. Top the bowling! Out with the mainsail! Where’s your whistle, master?

Oxlips in their cradles growing, Marigolds on death-beds blowing, Larks’-heels trim; All dear Nature’s children sweet, Lie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet.

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.

PAL. Is’t but a rare one? ARC. Yes, a matchless beauty. PAL. Might not a man well lose himself and love her? ARC. I cannot tell what you have done; I have, Beshrew mine eyes for’t! Now I feel my shackles.

Palamon Is but his foil, to him, a mere dull shadow; He’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 sharpness, not a smile.

Palamon, thou art alone And only beautiful, and these the eyes, These the bright lamps of beauty, that command And threaten Love, and what young maid dare cross ’em? What a bold gravity, and yet inviting, Has this brown manly face!

Plainly spoken, Yet pardon me hard language. When I spur My horse, I chide him not; content and anger In me have but one face.

Poor lady, say no more: I had as lief trace this good action with you As that whereto I am going, and never yet Went I so willing way.

Remember me To our all-royal brother, for whose speed The great Bellona I’ll solicit; and Since in our terrene state petitions are not Without gifts understood, I’ll offer to her What I shall be advis’d she likes.

Remember that your fame Knolls in the ear o’ th’ world; what you do quickly Is not done rashly; your first thought is more Than others’ labored meditance; your premeditating More than their actions.

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 humors that Stick misbecomingly on others, on him Live in fair dwelling.

stern, and yet noble, Which shows him hardy, fearless, proud of dangers. The circles of his eyes show fire within him, And as a heated lion, so he looks;

Such a one I am, And vow that lover never yet made sigh Truer than I. O then, most soft sweet goddess, Give me the victory of this question, which Is true love’s merit, and bless me with a sign Of thy great pleasure.

The best way is, the next way to a grave; Each errant step beside is torment. Lo The moon is down, the crickets chirp, the screech owl Calls in the dawn! All offices are done Save what I fail in.

The crow, the sland’rous cuckoo, nor The boding raven, nor chough hoar, Nor chatt’ring pie, May on our bridehouse perch or sing, Or with them any discord bring, But from it fly.

The day That he should marry you, at such a season As now it is with me, I met your groom By Mars’s altar. You were that time fair; Not Juno’s mantle fairer than your tresses, Nor in more bounty spread her.

The fair-ey’d maids shall weep our banishments, And in their songs curse ever-blinded Fortune Till she for shame see what a wrong she has done To youth and nature.

Their knot of love Tied, weav’d, entangled, with so true, so long, And with a finger of so deep a cunning, May be outworn, never undone.

Then mine Host And his fat spouse, that welcomes to their cost The galled traveller, and with a beck’ning Informs the tapster to inflame the reck’ning.

Therefore, most modest queen, He of the two pretenders that best loves me And has the truest title in’t, let him Take off my wheaten garland, or else grant The file and quality I hold I may Continue in thy band.

There’s another, A little man, but of a tough soul, seeming As great as any. Fairer promises In such a body yet I never look’d on.

They eat well, look merrily, discourse of many things, but nothing of their own restraint and disasters. Yet sometime a divided sigh, martyr’d as ’twere i’ th’ deliverance, will break from one of them; when the other presently gives it so sweet a rebuke that I could wish myself a sigh to be so chid, or at least a sigher to be comforted.

This is the fear we bring; For to say truth, it were an endless thing, And too ambitious, to aspire to him, Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim In this deep water.

This only, and no more: thou art mine aunt’s son, And that blood we desire to shed is mutual, In me, thine, and in thee, mine.

thou shalt stay and see Her bright eyes break each morning ’gainst thy window, And let in life into thee; thou shalt feed Upon the sweetness of a noble beauty, That nature nev’r exceeded, nor nev’r shall.

Thou, O jewel O’ th’ wood, o’ th’ world, hast likewise blest a place With thy sole presence. In thy rumination That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between And chop on some cold thought!

Thy banishment I not mislike, so we may fairly carry Our 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 cousin, On any piece the earth has.

Tis in our power (Unless we fear that apes can tutor’s) to Be masters of our manners. What need I Affect another’s gait, which is not catching Where there is faith?

Tis most true, two souls Put in two noble bodies, let ’em suffer The gall of hazard, so they grow together, Will never sink;

Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds, That shook the aged forest with their echoes, No more now must we hallow;

To hear there a proud lady and a proud city-wife howl together! I were a beast and I’ld call it good sport. One cries, “O, this smoke!” th’ other, “This fire!” One cries, “O, that ever I did it behind the arras!” and then howls; th’ other curses a suing fellow and her garden-house.

To marry him is hopeless; To be his whore is witless. Out upon’t! What pushes are we wenches driven to When fifteen once has found us!

Traitor kinsman, Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signs Of prisonment were off me, and this hand But owner of a sword!

Urns and odors bring away, Vapors, sighs, darken the day; Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms, and gums, and heavy cheers, Sacred vials fill’d with tears, And clamors through the wild air flying!

Verily I think so, A right good creature, more to me deserving Than I can quite or speak of.

We come unseasonably; but when could grief Cull forth, as unpang’d judgment can, fitt’st time For best solicitation?

Were I at liberty, I would do things Of such a virtuous greatness that this lady, This blushing virgin, should take manhood to her And seek to ravish me.

What a mere child is fancy, That having two fair gauds of equal sweetness, Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both!

What an eye, Of what a fiery sparkle and quick sweetness, Has this young prince! Here Love himself sits smiling.

What canon is there That does command my rapier from my hip, To dangle’t in my hand, or to go tiptoe Before the street be foul? Either I am The forehorse in the team, or I am none That draw i’ th’ sequent trace.

What she lik’d Was then of me approv’d, what not, condemn’d, No more arraignment.

When her arms, Able to lock Jove from a synod, shall By warranting moonlight corslet thee—O, when Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou think Of rotten kings or blubber’d queens?

Why, strong enough to laugh at misery And bear the chance of war yet. We are prisoners I fear forever, cousin.

Yes, I love her, And if the lives of all my name lay on it, I must do so; I love her with my soul; If that will lose ye, farewell, Palamon.

Yet what man Thirds his own worth (the case is each of ours), When that his action’s dregg’d with mind assur’d ’Tis bad he goes about.

You must be there; This trial is as ’twere i’ th’ night, and you The only star to shine.

You talk of feeding me to breed me strength; You are going now to look upon a sun That strengthens what it looks on; there you have A vantage o’er me, but enjoy’t till I may enforce my remedy. Farewell.

Y’ are out of breath, And this high-speeded pace is but to say That you shall never (like the maid Flavina) Love any that’s call’d man.