William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (585 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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2.1
Enter the Jailer and the Wooer
 
JAILER I may depart with little, while I live; something I may cast to you, not much. 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 lined than it can appear to me report is a true speaker. I would I were really that I am delivered to be. Marry, what I have—be it what it will—I will assure upon my daughter at the day of my death.
WOOER Sir, I demand no more than your own offer, and I will estate your daughter in what I have promised.
JAILER Well, we will talk more of this when the solemnity is past. But have you a full promise of her?
Enter the Jailer’s Daughter with rushes
 
When that shall be seen, I tender my consent.
WOOER I have, sir. Here she comes.
JAILER (
to Daughter
) Your friend and I have chanced to name you here, upon the old business—but no more of that now. So soon as the court hurry is over we will have an end of it. I’th’ mean time, look tenderly to the two prisoners. I can tell you they are princes.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER These strewings are for their chamber. ’Tis pity they are in prison, and ’twere pity they should be out. I do think they have patience to make any adversity ashamed; the prison itself is proud of ’em, and they have all the world in their chamber.
JAILER They are famed to be a pair of absolute men.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER By my troth, I think fame but stammers ’em—they stand a grece above the reach of report.
JAILER I heard them reported in the battle to be the only doers.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER Nay, most likely, for they are noble sufferers. I marvel how they would have looked 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.
JAILER Do they so?
JAILER’S DAUGHTER It seems to me they have no more sense of their captivity than I of ruling Athens. They eat well, look merrily, discourse of many things, but nothing of their own restraint and disasters. Yet sometime a divided sigh—martyred 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.
WOOER I never saw ’em.
JAILER The Duke himself came privately in the night,
Palamon and Arcite appear

at a window

above
and so did they. What the reason of it is I know not. Look, yonder they are. That’s Arcite looks out.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER No, sir, no—that’s Palamon. Arcite is the lower of the twain—(
pointing
at Arcite) you may perceive a part of him.
JAILER Go to, leave your pointing. They would not make us their object. Out of their sight.
JAILER’S DAUGHTER It is a holiday to look on them. Lord, the difference of men!
Exeunt
2.2
Enter Palamon and Arcite in prison,

in shackles, above

 
PALAMON
How do you, noble cousin?
ARCITE How do you, sir?
PALAMON
Why, strong enough to laugh at misery
And bear the chance of war. Yet we are prisoners,
I fear, for ever, cousin.
ARCITE
I believe it, And to that destiny have patiently
Laid up my hour to come.
PALAMON
O, cousin Arcite, Where is Thebes now? Where is our noble country?
Where are our friends and kindreds? Never more
Must we behold those comforts, never see
The hardy youths strive for the games of honour,
Hung with the painted favours of their ladies,
Like tall ships under sail; then start amongst ’em
And, as an east wind, leave ’em all behind us,
Like lazy clouds, whilst Palamon and Arcite,
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg,
Outstripped the people’s praises, won the garlands
Ere they have time to wish ‘em ours. O never
Shall we two exercise, like twins of honour,
Our arms again and feel our fiery horses
Like proud seas under us. Our good swords, now—
Better the red-eyed god of war ne’er wore—
Ravished our sides, like age must run to rust
And deck the temples of those gods that hate us.
These hands shall never draw ’em out like lightning
To blast whole armies more.
ARCITE
No, Palamon, Those hopes are prisoners with us. 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—
The sweet embraces of a loving wife
Loaden with kisses, armed with thousand Cupids,
Shall never clasp our necks; no issue know us;
No figures of ourselves shall we e’er see
To glad our age, and, like young eagles, teach ’em
Boldly to gaze against bright arms and say,
‘Remember what your fathers were, and conquer.’
The fair-eyed 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. This is all our world.
We shall know nothing here but one another,
Hear nothing but the clock that tells our woes.
The vine shall grow, but we shall never see it;
Summer shall come, and with her all delights,
But dead-cold winter must inhabit here still.
PALAMON
’Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds
That shook the aged forest with their echoes,
No more now must we holler; no more shake
Our pointed javelins whilst the angry swine
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
Struck with our well-steeled darts. All valiant uses—
The food and nourishment of noble minds—
In us two here shall perish; we shall die—
Which is the curse of honour—lastly,
Children of grief and ignorance.
ARCITE
Yet, cousin, 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.
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish
If I think this our prison.
PALAMON
Certainly ’Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes
Were twined together. ’Tis most true, two souls
Put in two noble bodies, let ’em suffer
The gall of hazard, so they grow together,
Will never sink; they must not, say they could.
A willing man dies sleeping and all’s done.
ARCITE
Shall we make worthy uses of this place
That all men hate so much?
PALAMON How, gentle cousin?
ARCITE
Let’s think this prison holy sanctuary,
To keep us from corruption of worse men.
We are young, and yet desire the ways of honour
That liberty and common conversation,
The poison of pure spirits, might, like women,
Woo us to wander from. What worthy blessing
Can be, but our imaginations
May make it ours? And here being thus together,
We are an endless mine to one another:
We are one another’s wife, ever begetting
New births of love; we are father, friends,
acquaintance;
We are in one another, families—
I am your heir, and you are mine; this place
Is our inheritance: no hard oppressor
Dare take this from us. Here, with a little patience,
We shall live long and loving. No surfeits seek us—
The hand of war hurts none here, nor the seas
Swallow their youth. Were we at liberty
A wife might part us lawfully, or business;
Quarrels consume us; envy of ill men
Crave our acquaintance. I might sicken, cousin,
Where you should never know it, and so perish
Without your noble hand to close mine eyes,
Or prayers to the gods. A thousand chances,
Were we from hence, would sever us.
PALAMON
You have made me—I thank you, cousin Arcite—almost wanton
With my captivity. What a misery
It is to live abroad, and everywhere!
’Tis like a beast, methinks. 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.
What had we been, old in the court of Creon,
Where sin is justice, lust and ignorance
The virtues of the great ones? Cousin Arcite,
Had not the loving gods found this place for us,
We had died as they do, ill old men, unwept,
And had their epitaphs, the people’s curses.
Shall I say more?
ARCITE I would hear you still.
PALAMON
Ye shall. Is there record of any two that loved
Better than we do, Arcite?
ARCITE Sure there cannot.
PALAMON
I do not think it possible our friendship
Should ever leave us.
ARCITE Till our deaths it cannot,
Enter Emilia and her Woman

below

. Palamon sees Emilia and is silent
And after death our spirits shall be led
To those that love eternally. Speak on, sir.
EMILIA (to her Woman)
This garden has a world of pleasure in’t.
What flower is this?
WOMAN ’Tis called narcissus, madam.
EMILIA
That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool
To love himself. Were there not maids enough?
ARCITE (
to Palamon
)
Pray forward.
PALAMON Yes.
EMILIA (
to her Woman
) Or were they all hard-hearted?
WOMAN
They could not be to one so fair.
EMILIA Thou wouldst not.
WOMAN
I think I should not, madam.
EMILIA
That’s a good wench—But take heed to your kindness, though.
WOMAN Why, madam?
EMILIA
Men are mad things.
ARCITE (to
Palamon
) Will ye go forward, cousin?
EMILIA (
to her Woman
)
Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench?
WOMAN Yes.
EMILIA
I’ll have a gown full of ’em, and of these.
This is a pretty colour—will’t not do
Rarely upon a skirt, wench?
WOMAN Dainty, madam.
ARCITE (
to Palamon
)
Cousin, cousin, how do you, sir? Why, Palamon!
PALAMON
Never till now was I in prison, Arcite.
ARCITE
Why, what’s the matter, man?
PALAMON Behold and wonder!
Arcite sees Emilia
 
By heaven, she is a goddess!
ARCITE Ha!
PALAMON
Do reverence.
She is a goddess, Arcite.
EMILIA (
to her Woman
)
Of all flowers
Methinks a rose is best.
WOMAN Why, gentle madam?
EMILIA
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! When the north comes near
her,
Rude and impatient, then, like chastity,
She locks her beauties in her bud again,
And leaves him to base briers.
WOMAN
Yet, good madam, Sometimes her modesty will blow so far
She falls for’t—a maid,
If she have any honour, would be loath
To take example by her.
EMILIA Thou art wanton.
ARCITE (
to Palamon
)
She is wondrous fair.
PALAMON She is all the beauty extant.
EMILIA (
to her Woman
)
The sun grows high—let’s walk in. Keep these flowers.
We’ll see how close art can come near their colours.
I am wondrous merry-hearted—I could laugh now.
WOMAN
I could lie down, I am sure.
EMILIA And take one with you?
WOMAN
That’s as we bargain, madam.
EMILIA Well, agree then.
Exeunt Emilia and her Woman
PALAMON
What think you of this beauty?
ARCITE ’Tis a rare one.
PALAMON
Is’t but a rare one?
ARCITE Yes, a matchless beauty.

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