2347Emilia. Yet I may binde those wounds up, that must(open

2348And bleed to death for my sake else; Ile choose,

2349And end their strife: Two such yong hansom men

2350Shall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers,

2351Following the dead cold ashes of their Sonnes

2352Shall never curse my cruelty: Good heaven,

2353What a sweet face has Arcite? if wise nature

2354With all her best endowments, all those beuties

2355She sowes into the birthes of noble bodies,

2356Were here a mortall woman, and had in her

2357The coy denialls of yong Maydes, yet doubtles,

2358She would run mad for this man: what an eye?

2359Of what a fyry sparkle, and quick sweetnes,

2360Has this yong Prince? Here Love himselfe sits smyling,

2361Iust such another wanton Ganimead,

2362Set Love a fire with, and enforcd the god

2363Snatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by him

2364A shining constellation: What a brow,

2365Of what a spacious Majesty he carries?

2366Arch'd like the great eyd Iuno's, but far sweeter,

2367Smoother then Pelops Shoulder? Fame and honour

2368Me thinks from hence, as from a Promontory

2369Pointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and sing

2370To all the under world, the Loves, and Fights

2371Of gods, and such men neere 'em. Palamon,

2372Is but his foyle, to him, a meere dull shadow,

2373Hee's swarth, and meagre, of an eye as heavy

2374As if he had lost his mother; a still temper,

2375No stirring in him, no alacrity,

2376Of all this sprightly sharpenes, not a smile;

2377Yet these that we count errours may become him:

2378Narcissus was a sad Boy, but a heavenly:

2379Oh who can finde the bent of womans fancy?

2380I am a Foole, my reason is lost in me,

2381I have no choice, and I have ly'd so lewdly

2382That women ought to beate me. On my knees

2383I aske thy pardon: Palamon, thou art alone,

2384And only beutifull, and these the eyes,

2385These the bright lamps of beauty, that command

2386And threaten Love, and what yong Mayd dare crosse 'em

2387What a bold gravity, and yet inviting

2388Has this browne manly face? O Love, this only

2389From this howre is Complexion: Lye there Arcite,

2390Thou art a changling to him, a meere Gipsey.

2391And this the noble Bodie: I am sotted,

2392Vtterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me.

2393For if my brother but even now had ask'd me

2394Whether I lov'd, I had run mad for Arcite,

2395Now if my Sister; More for Palamon,

2396Stand both together: Now, come aske me Brother,

2397Alas, I know not: aske me now sweet Sister,

2398I may goe looke; What a meere child is Fancie,

2399That having two faire gawdes of equall sweetnesse,

2400Cannot distinguish, but must crie for both.

2402Emil. How now Sir?

2403Gent. From the Noble Duke your Brother

2404Madam, I bring you newes: The Knights are come.

2405Emil. To end the quarrell?

2406Gent. Yes.

2407Emil. Would I might end first:

2408What sinnes have I committed, chast Diana,

2409That my unspotted youth must now be soyld

2410With blood of Princes? and my Chastitie

2411Be made the Altar, where the lives of Lovers,

2412Two greater, and two better never yet

2413Made mothers joy, must be the sacrifice

2414To my unhappy Beautie?

2416Theseus. Bring 'em in quickly,

2417By any meanes, I long to see 'em.

2418Your two contending Lovers are return'd,

2419And with them their faire Knights: Now my faire Sister,

2420You must love one of them.

2421Emil. I had rather both,

2422So neither for my sake should fall untimely

2424Thes. Who saw 'em?

2425Per. I a while.

2426Gent. And I.

2427Thes. From whence come you Sir?

2428Mess. From the Knights.

2429Thes. Pray speake

2430You that have seene them, what they are.

2431Mess. I will Sir,

2432And truly what I thinke: Six braver spirits

2433Then these they have brought, (if we judge by the outside)

2434I never saw, nor read of: He that stands

2435In the first place with Arcite, by his seeming

2436Should be a stout man, by his face a Prince,

2437(His very lookes so say him) his complexion,

2438Nearer a browne, than blacke; sterne, and yet noble,

2439Which shewes him hardy, fearelesse, proud of dangers:

2440The circles of his eyes show faire within him,

2441And as a heated Lyon, so he lookes;

2442His haire hangs long behind him, blacke and shining

2443Like Ravens wings: his shoulders broad, and strong,

2444Armd long and round, and on his Thigh a Sword

2445Hung by a curious Bauldricke; when he frownes

2446To seale his will with, better o' my conscience

2447Was never Souldiers friend.

2448Thes. Thou ha'st well describde him,

2449Per. Yet a great deale short

2450Me thinkes, of him that's first with Palamon.

2451Thes. Pray speake him friend.

2452Per. I ghesse he is a Prince too,

2453And if it may be, greater; for his show

2454Has all the ornament of honour in't:

2455Hee's somewhat bigger, then the Knight he spoke of,

2456But of a face far sweeter; His complexion

2457Is (as a ripe grape) ruddy: he has felt

2458Without doubt what he fights for, and so apter

2459To make this cause his owne: In's face appeares

2460All the faire hopes of what he undertakes,

2461And when he's angry, then a setled valour

2462(Not tainted with extreames) runs through his body,

2463And guides his arme to brave things: Feare he cannot,

2464He shewes no such soft temper, his head's yellow,

2465Hard hayr'd, and curld, thicke twind like Ivy tops,

2466Not to undoe with thunder; In his face

K The

2467The liverie of the warlike Maide appeares,

2468Pure red, and white, for yet no beard has blest him.

2469And in his rowling eyes, sits victory,

2470As if she ever ment to corect his valour:

2471His Nose stands high, a Character of honour.

2472His red lips, after fights, are fit for Ladies.

2473Emil. Must these men die too?

2474Per. When he speakes, his tongue

2475Sounds like a Trumpet; All his lyneaments

2476Are as a man would wish 'em, strong, and cleane,

2477He weares a well-steeld Axe, the staffe of gold,

2478His age some five and twenty.

2479Mess. Ther's another,

2480A little man, but of a tough soule, seeming

2481As great as any: fairer promises

2482In such a Body, yet I never look'd on.

2483Per. O, he that's freckle fac'd?

2484Mess. The same my Lord,

2485Are they not sweet ones?

2486Per. Yes they are well.

2487Mess. Me thinkes,

2488Being so few, and well disposd, they show

2489Great, and fine art in nature, he's white hair'd,

2490Not wanton white, but such a manly colour

2491Next to an aborne, tough, and nimble set,

2492Which showes an active soule; his armes are brawny

2493Linde with strong sinewes: To the shoulder peece,

2494Gently they swell, like women new conceav'd,

2495Which speakes him prone to labour, never fainting

2496Vnder the waight of Armes; stout harted, still,

2497But when he stirs, a Tiger; he's gray eyd,

2498Which yeelds compassion where he conquers: sharpe

2499To spy advantages, and where he finds 'em,

2500He's swift to make 'em his: He do's no wrongs,

2501Nor takes none; he's round fac'd, and when he smiles

2502He showes a Lover, when he frownes, a Souldier:

2503About his head he weares the winners oke,

2504And in it stucke the favour of his Lady:

2505His age, some six and thirtie. In his hand

2506He beares a charging Staffe, embost with silver.

2507Thes. Are they all thus?

2508Per. They are all the sonnes of honour.

2509Thes. Now as I have a soule I long to see 'em,

2510Lady you shall see men fight now.

2511Hip. I wish it,

2512But not the cause my Lord; They would show

2513Bravely about the Titles of two Kingdomes;

2514Tis pitty Love should be so tyrannous:

2515O my soft harted Sister, what thinke you?

2516Weepe not, till they weepe blood; Wench it must be.

2517Thes. You have steel'd 'em with your Beautie: honord(Friend,

2518To you I give the Feild; pray order it,

2519Fitting the persons that must use it.

2520Per. Yes Sir.

2521Thes. Come, Ile goe visit 'em: I cannot stay.

2522Their fame has fir'd me so; Till they appeare,

2523Good Friend be royall.

2524Per. There shall want no bravery.

2525Emilia. Poore wench goe weepe, for whosoever wins,

2526Looses a noble Cosen, for thy sins. Exeunt.