Gaoler. Go to, leave your pointing! They would not make us their object; out of their sight! Daughter. It is a holiday to look on them! difference of men!

Lord, the [Exeunt.

SCENE II.1. A Room in the Prison.

Enter PALAMON and ARCITE.

How do you, sir?

Palamon. How do you, noble cousin?
Arcite.
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,

Outstripp'd 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,

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1 Weber, Dyce, and Skeat make no separation between this scene and the preceding; but the Quarto does.

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
Ravish'd' 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, arm'd 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.

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Palamon. 'Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds, That shook the aged forest with their echoes,

No more now must we halloo; no more shake

1 Torn from.

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40

Our pointed javelins, whilst the angry swine.
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
Stuck with our well-steel'd darts! All valiant uses
The food and nourishment of noble minds -

50

In us two here shall perish; we shall die

Which is the curse of honour

Children of grief and ignorance.

Arcite.

· lazily,

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.

'Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes
Were twin'd 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,

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70

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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

Grave1 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,

1 Bury.

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We had died as they do, ill old men, unwept,
And had their epitaphs, the peoples' curses.

Palamon. I do not think it possible our friendship Should ever leave us.

Arcite.

Till our deaths it cannot;

And after death our spirits shall be led

To those that love eternally. Speak on, sir.

Enter EMILIA and Waiting-woman, below.

Emilia. This garden has a world of pleasures in't. What flower is this?

Waiting-woman. 'Tis call'd narcissus, madam. Emilia. That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool To love himself; were there not maids enough? Arcite. Pray, forward.

Waiting-woman. They could not be to one so fair.

Palamon.

Emilia.

Emilia.

Emilia.

Waiting-woman. I think I should not, madam.

Yes.

Or were they all hard-hearted?

Thou would'st not?

That's a good wench ;

Why, madam?

Will ye go forward, cousin?

But take heed to your kindness though!

Waiting-woman.

Emilia. Men are mad things.

Arcite.

Emilia. Canst thou not work such flowers in silk, wench?