William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (594 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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They kneel before the altar
, ⌈
fall on their faces, then on their knees again
⌉
(
Praying to Mars
)
Praying to Mars
)
Thou mighty one,
That with thy power hast turned green Neptune into
purple;
Whose havoc in vast field comets prewarn,
Unearthed skulls proclaim; whose breath blows down
The teeming Ceres’ foison; who dost pluck
With hand armipotent from forth blue clouds
The masoned turrets, that both mak’st and break’st
The stony girths of cities; 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 styled the lord o’th’ day. Give me, great Mars,
Some token of thy pleasure.
That with thy power hast turned green Neptune into
purple;
Whose havoc in vast field comets prewarn,
Unearthed skulls proclaim; whose breath blows down
The teeming Ceres’ foison; who dost pluck
With hand armipotent from forth blue clouds
The masoned turrets, that both mak’st and break’st
The stony girths of cities; 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 styled the lord o’th’ day. Give me, great Mars,
Some token of thy pleasure.
Here they fall on their faces, as formerly
,
and there is heard clanging of armour, with a short thunder, as the burst of a battle, whereupon they all rise and bow to the altar
O great corrector of enormous times,
Shaker of o’er-rank states, thou grand decider
Of dusty and old titles, that heal’st with blood
The earth when it is sick, and cur’st the world
O’th’ plurisy of people, I do take
Thy signs auspiciously, and in thy name,
To my design, march boldly. (
To his Knights
) Let us go.
Shaker of o’er-rank states, thou grand decider
Of dusty and old titles, that heal’st with blood
The earth when it is sick, and cur’st the world
O’th’ plurisy of people, I do take
Thy signs auspiciously, and in thy name,
To my design, march boldly. (
To his Knights
) Let us go.
Exeunt
5.2Enter
Palamon and his Knights with the former observance
PALAMON (
to his Knights
)
to his Knights
)
Our stars must glister with new fire, or be
Today extinct. Our argument is love,
Which if the goddess of it grant, she gives
Victory too. Then blend your spirits with mine,
You whose free nobleness do make my cause
Your personal hazard. To the goddess Venus
Commend we our proceeding, and implore
Her power unto our party.
Today extinct. Our argument is love,
Which if the goddess of it grant, she gives
Victory too. Then blend your spirits with mine,
You whose free nobleness do make my cause
Your personal hazard. To the goddess Venus
Commend we our proceeding, and implore
Her power unto our party.
Here they kneel before the altar,fall on’their faces then on their knees again
(
Praying to Venus
) 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‘alarum to whispers; that canst make
A cripple flourish with his crutch, and cure him
Before Apollo; that mayst force the king
To be his subject’s vassal, and induce
Stale gravity to dance; the polled bachelor
Whose youth, like wanton boys through bonfires,
Have skipped thy flame, at seventy thou canst catch
And make him to the scorn of his hoarse throat
Abuse young lays of love. What godlike power
Hast thou not power upon? To Phoebus thou
Add’st flames hotter than his—the heavenly fires
Did scorch his mortal son, thine him. The huntress,
All moist and cold, some say, began to throw
Her bow away and sigh. Take to thy grace
Me, thy vowed soldier, who do bear thy yoke
As ’twere a wreath of roses, yet is heavier
Than lead itself, stings more than nettles.
I have never been foul-mouthed against thy law;
Ne’er revealed secret, for I knew none; would not,
Had I kenned all that were. I never practised
Upon man’s wife, nor would the libels read
Of liberal wits. I never at great feasts
Sought to betray a beauty, but have blushed
At simp’ring sirs that did. I have been harsh
To large confessors, and have hotly asked them
If they had mothers—I had one, a woman,
And women ’twere they wronged. I knew a man
Of eighty winters, this I told them, who
A lass of fourteen brided—’twas thy power
To put life into dust. The aged cramp
Had screwed his square foot round,
The gout had knit his fingers into knots,
Torturing convulsions from his globy eyes
Had almost drawn their spheres, that what was life
In him seemed torture. This anatomy
Had by his young fair fere a boy, and I
Believed it was his, for she swore it was,
And who would not believe her? Brief—I am
To those that prate and have done, no companion;
To those that boast and have not, a defier;
To those that would and cannot, a rejoicer.
Yea, him I do not love that tells close offices
The foulest way, nor names concealments in
The boldest language. 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.
Praying to Venus
) 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‘alarum to whispers; that canst make
A cripple flourish with his crutch, and cure him
Before Apollo; that mayst force the king
To be his subject’s vassal, and induce
Stale gravity to dance; the polled bachelor
Whose youth, like wanton boys through bonfires,
Have skipped thy flame, at seventy thou canst catch
And make him to the scorn of his hoarse throat
Abuse young lays of love. What godlike power
Hast thou not power upon? To Phoebus thou
Add’st flames hotter than his—the heavenly fires
Did scorch his mortal son, thine him. The huntress,
All moist and cold, some say, began to throw
Her bow away and sigh. Take to thy grace
Me, thy vowed soldier, who do bear thy yoke
As ’twere a wreath of roses, yet is heavier
Than lead itself, stings more than nettles.
I have never been foul-mouthed against thy law;
Ne’er revealed secret, for I knew none; would not,
Had I kenned all that were. I never practised
Upon man’s wife, nor would the libels read
Of liberal wits. I never at great feasts
Sought to betray a beauty, but have blushed
At simp’ring sirs that did. I have been harsh
To large confessors, and have hotly asked them
If they had mothers—I had one, a woman,
And women ’twere they wronged. I knew a man
Of eighty winters, this I told them, who
A lass of fourteen brided—’twas thy power
To put life into dust. The aged cramp
Had screwed his square foot round,
The gout had knit his fingers into knots,
Torturing convulsions from his globy eyes
Had almost drawn their spheres, that what was life
In him seemed torture. This anatomy
Had by his young fair fere a boy, and I
Believed it was his, for she swore it was,
And who would not believe her? Brief—I am
To those that prate and have done, no companion;
To those that boast and have not, a defier;
To those that would and cannot, a rejoicer.
Yea, him I do not love that tells close offices
The foulest way, nor names concealments in
The boldest language. 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.
Here music is heard, doves are seen to flutter. They fall again upon their faces, then on their knees
O thou that from eleven to ninety reign’st
In mortal bosoms, whose chase is this world
And we in herds thy game, I give thee thanks
For this fair token, which, being laid unto
Mine innocent true heart, arms in assurance
My body to this business. (
To his Knights
) Let us rise
And bow before the goddess.
In mortal bosoms, whose chase is this world
And we in herds thy game, I give thee thanks
For this fair token, which, being laid unto
Mine innocent true heart, arms in assurance
My body to this business. (
To his Knights
) Let us rise
And bow before the goddess.
They rise and bow
Time comes on.
Exeunt
5.3Still music of recorders. Enter Emilia in white, her hair about her shoulders, with a wheaten wreath; one in white holding
up
her train, her hair stuck with flowers
;
one before her carrying a silver hind in which is conveyed incense and sweet odours, which being set upon the altar, her maids standing apart, she sets fire
to
it
.
Then they curtsy and kneel
EMILIA (praying to Diana)
O sacred, shadowy, cold, and constant queen,
Abandoner of revels, mute contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As wind-fanned snow, who to thy female knights
Allow’st no more blood than will make a blush,
Which is their order’s robe: I here, thy priest,
Am humbled fore thine altar. O, vouchsafe
With that thy rare green eye, which never yet
Beheld thing maculate, look on thy virgin;
And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear—
Which ne’er heard scurril term, into whose port
Ne‘er entered wanton sound—to my petition,
Seasoned with holy fear. This is my last
Of vestal office. I am bride-habited,
But maiden-hearted. A husband I have ’pointed,
But do not know him. Out of two, I should
Choose one and pray for his success, but I
Am guiltless of election. Of mine eyes
Were I to lose one, they are equal precious—
I could doom neither: that which perished should
Go to’t unsentenced. 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.
Abandoner of revels, mute contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As wind-fanned snow, who to thy female knights
Allow’st no more blood than will make a blush,
Which is their order’s robe: I here, thy priest,
Am humbled fore thine altar. O, vouchsafe
With that thy rare green eye, which never yet
Beheld thing maculate, look on thy virgin;
And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear—
Which ne’er heard scurril term, into whose port
Ne‘er entered wanton sound—to my petition,
Seasoned with holy fear. This is my last
Of vestal office. I am bride-habited,
But maiden-hearted. A husband I have ’pointed,
But do not know him. Out of two, I should
Choose one and pray for his success, but I
Am guiltless of election. Of mine eyes
Were I to lose one, they are equal precious—
I could doom neither: that which perished should
Go to’t unsentenced. 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.
Here the hind vanishes under the altar and in the place ascends a
rose
tree having one
rose
upon it
(
To her
women) See what our general of ebbs and flows
Out from the bowels of her holy altar,
With sacred act, advances—but one rose!
If well inspired, this battle shall confound
Both these brave knights, and I a virgin flower
Must grow alone, unplucked.
To her
women) See what our general of ebbs and flows
Out from the bowels of her holy altar,
With sacred act, advances—but one rose!
If well inspired, this battle shall confound
Both these brave knights, and I a virgin flower
Must grow alone, unplucked.
Here is heard
a sudden
twang of instruments and the rose falls from the tree
The flower is fall’n, the tree descends. (To Diana) O
mistress,
Thou here dischargest me—I shall be gathered.
I think so, but I know not thine own will.
Unclasp thy mystery. ⌈
To her women
⌉ I hope she’s
pleased;
Her signs were gracious.
mistress,
Thou here dischargest me—I shall be gathered.
I think so, but I know not thine own will.
Unclasp thy mystery. ⌈
To her women
⌉ I hope she’s
pleased;
Her signs were gracious.
They curtsy and exeunt
5.4Enter the Doctor, the jailer
,
and the Wooer in the habit 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 half persuaded her that I am Palamon. Within this half-hour she came smiling to me, and asked me what I would eat, and when I would kiss her. I told her presently, and kissed her twice.
DOCTOR
’Twas well done—twenty times had been far better,
For there the cure lies mainly.
For there the cure lies mainly.
WOOER
Then she told me
She would watch with me tonight, for well she knew
What hour my fit would take me.
She would watch with me tonight, for well she knew
What hour my fit would take me.
DOCTOR
Let her do so, 11
And when your fit comes, fit her home,
And presently.
And when your fit comes, fit her home,
And presently.
WOOER
She would have me sing.
DOCTOR
You did so?
WOOER
No.
DOCTOR
’Twas very ill done, then. You should observe her every way.
WOOER
Alas,
I have no voice, sir, to confirm her that way.
I have no voice, sir, to confirm her that way.
DOCTOR
That’s all one, if ye make a noise.
If she entreat again, do anything—
Lie with her if she ask you.
If she entreat again, do anything—
Lie with her if she ask you.
JAILER
Ho there, Doctor.
DOCTOR
Yes, in the way of cure.
JAILER
But first, by your leave,
I’th’ way of honesty.
I’th’ way of honesty.
DOCTOR
That’s but a niceness—
Ne’er cast your child away for honesty.
Cure her first this way, then if she will be honest,
She has the path before her.
Ne’er cast your child away for honesty.
Cure her first this way, then if she will be honest,
She has the path before her.
JAILER
Thank ye, Doctor.
DOCTOR
Pray bring her in and let’s see how she is.
JAILER
I will, and tell her her Palamon stays for her.
But, Doctor, methinks you are i’th’ wrong still.
But, Doctor, methinks you are i’th’ wrong still.
Exit Jailer
DOCTOR
Go, go. You fathers are fine fools—her honesty?
An we should give her physic till we find that—
An we should give her physic till we find that—
WOOER
Why, do you think she is not honest, sir?
DOCTOR
How old is she?
WOOER
She’s eighteen.
DOCTOR
She may be—
But that’s all one. ’Tis nothing to our purpose.
Whate’er her father says, if you perceive
Her mood inclining that way that I spoke of,
Videlicet, the way of flesh—you have me?
But that’s all one. ’Tis nothing to our purpose.
Whate’er her father says, if you perceive
Her mood inclining that way that I spoke of,
Videlicet, the way of flesh—you have me?
WOOER
Yes, very well, sir.
DOCTOR
Please her appetite,
And do it home—it cures her, ipso facto,
The melancholy humour that infects her.
And do it home—it cures her, ipso facto,
The melancholy humour that infects her.
WOOER I am of your mind, Doctor.
Enter the Jailer and his Daughter,
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