Scæna 1. Enter Iailor, and Wooer.

Iailor.
I may depart with little, while I live, some thing I
May cast to you, not much: Alas the Prison I
Keepe, though it be for great ones, yet they seldome
Come; Before one Salmon, you shall take a number
Of Minnowes: I am given out to be better lyn'd
Then it can appeare, to me report is a true
Speaker: I would I were really, that I am
Deliverd 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 demaund no more then your owne offer,
And I will estate your Daughter in what I
Have promised,

Iailor.
Wel, we will talke more of this, when the solemnity
Is past; But have you a full promise of her? Enter Daughter.
When that shall be seene, I tender my consent.

Wooer.
I have Sir; here shee comes.

Iailor.
Your Friend and I have chanced to name
You here, upon the old busines: But no more of that.
Now, so soone as the Court hurry is over, we will
Have an end of it: I'th meane time looke tenderly
To the two Prisoners. I can tell you they are princes.

Daug.
These strewings are for their Chamber; tis pitty they
Are in prison, and twer pitty they should be out: I
Doe thinke they have patience to make any adversity
Asham'd; the prison it selfe is proud of 'em; and
They have all the world in their Chamber.

Iailor.
They are fam'd to be a paire of absolute men.

Daugh.
By my troth, I think Fame but stammers 'em, they
Stand a greise above the reach of report.

Iai.
I heard them reported in the Battaile, to be the only doers.

Daugh.
Nay most likely, for they are noble suffrers; I
Mervaile how they would have lookd had they beene
Victors, that with such a constant Nobility, enforce
A freedome out of Bondage, making misery their
Mirth, and affliction, a toy to jest at.

Iailor.
Doe they so?

Daug.
It seemes to me they have no more sence of their
Captivity, then I of ruling Athens: they eate
Well, looke merrily, discourse of many things,
But nothing of their owne restraint, and disasters:
Yet sometime a devided sigh, martyrd as twer
I'th deliverance, will breake from one of them.
When the other presently gives it so sweete a rebuke,
That I could wish my selfe a Sigh to be so chid,
Or at least a Sigher to be comforted.

Wooer.
I never saw'em.

Iailor.
The Duke himselfe came privately in the night, Enter Palamon, and Arcite, above.
And so did they, what the reason of it is, I

Know not: Looke yonder they are; that's
Arcite lookes out.

Daugh.
No Sir, no, that's Palamon: Arcite is the
Lower of the twaine; you may perceive a part
Of him.

Iai.
Goe too, leave your pointing; they would not
Make us their object; out of their sight.

Daugh.
It is a holliday to looke on them: Lord, the
Diffrence of men. Exeunt,

Scæna 2. Enter Palamon, and Arcite in prison.

Pal.
How doe you Noble Cosen?

Arcite.
How doe you Sir?

Pal.
Why strong inough to laugh at misery,
And beare the chance of warre yet, we are prisoners
I feare for ever Cosen.

Arcite.
I beleeve it,
And to that destiny have patiently
Laide up my houre to come.

Pal.
Oh Cosen Arcite,
Where is Thebs now? where is our noble Country?
Where are our friends, and kindreds? never more
Must we behold those comforts, never see
The hardy youthes strive for the Games of honour
(Hung with the painted favours of their Ladies)
Like tall Ships under saile: then start among'st 'em
And as an Eastwind leave 'em all behinde us,
Like lazy Clowdes, whilst Palamon and Arcite,
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg
Out-stript the peoples praises, won the Garlands,
Ere they have time to wish 'em ours. O never
Shall we two exercise, like Twyns of honour,
Our Armes againe, and feele our fyry horses
Like proud Seas under us, our good Swords, now
(Better the red-eyd god of war nev'r were)
Bravishd our sides, like age must run to rust,
And decke 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 youthes must wither
Like a too-timely Spring; here age must finde us,
And which is heaviest (Palamon) unmarried,
The sweete embraces of a loving wife
Loden with kisses, armd with thousand Cupids
Shall never claspe our neckes, no issue know us,
No figures of our selves shall we ev'r see,
To glad our age, and like young Eagles teach'em
Boldly to gaze against bright armes, and say
Remember what your fathers were, and conquer.
The faire-eyd Maides, shall weepe our Banishments,
And in their Songs, curse ever-blinded fortune
Till shee 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,
Heare nothing but the Clocke that tels our woes.
The Vine shall grow, but we shall never see it:
Sommer shall come, and with her all delights;
But dead-cold winter must inhabite here still.

Pal.
Tis too true Arcite. To our Theban houndes,
That shooke the aged Forrest with their ecchoes,
No more now must we halloa, no more shake
Our pointed Iavelyns, whilst the angry Swine
Flyes like a parthian quiver from our rages,
Strucke with our well-steeld Darts: All valiant uses,
(The foode, and nourishment of noble mindes,)
In us two here shall perish; we shall die
(which is the curse of honour) lastly,
Children of greife, and Ignorance.

Arc.
Yet Cosen,
Even from the bottom of these miseries
From all that fortune can inflict upon us,
I see two comforts rysing, two meere blessings,
If the gods please, to hold here abrave patience,

And the enjoying of our greefes together:
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish
If I thinke this our prison.

Pala.
Certeinly,
Tis a maine goodnes Cosen, that our fortunes
Were twyn'd together; tis most true, two soules
Put in two noble Bodies, let'em suffer
The gaule of hazard, so they grow together,
Will never sincke, they must not, say they could,
A willing man dies sleeping, and all's done.

Arc.
Shall we make worthy uses of this place
That all men hate so much?

Pal.
How gentle Cosen?

Arc.
Let's thinke this prison, holy sanctuary,
To keepe us from corruption of worse men,
We are young and yet desire the waies of honour,
That liberty and common Conversation
The poyson of pure spirits; might like women
Wooe us to wander from. What worthy blessing
Can be but our Imaginations
May make it ours? And heere being thus together,
We are an endles mine to one another;
We are one anothers wife, ever begetting
New birthes of love; we are father, friends, acquaintance,
We are in one another, Families,
I am your heire, and you are mine: This place
Is our Inheritance: no hard Oppressour
Dare take this from us; here with a little patience
We shall live long, and loving: No surfeits seeke 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 busines,
Quarrels consume us, Envy of ill men
Crave our acquaintance, I might sicken Cosen,
Where you should never know it, and so perish
Without your noble hand to close mine eies,
Or praiers to the gods; a thousand chaunces
Were we from hence, would seaver us.

Pal.
You have made me
(I thanke you Cosen Arcite) almost wanton
With my Captivity: what a misery
It is to live abroade? and every where:
Tis like a Beast me thinkes: I finde the Court here,
I am sure a more content, and all those pleasures
That wooe the wils of men to vanity,
I see through now, and am sufficient
To tell the world, tis but a gaudy shaddow,
That old Time, as he passes by takes with him,
What had we bin old in the Court of Creon,
Where sin is Iustice, lust, and ignorance,
The vertues of the great ones: Cosen Arcite,
Had not the loving gods found this place for us
We had died as they doe, ill old men, unwept,
And had their Epitaphes, the peoples Curses,
Shall I say more?

Arc.
I would heare you still.

Pal.
Ye shall.
Is there record of any two that lov'd
Better then we doe Arcite?

Arc.
Sure there cannot.

Pal.
I doe not thinke it possible our friendship
Should ever leave us.

Arc.
Till our deathes it cannot Enter Emilia and her woman.
And after death our spirits shall be led
To those that love eternally. Speake on Sir.
This garden has a world of pleasures in't.

Emil.
What Flowre is this?

Wom.
Tis calld Narcissus Madam.

Emil.
That was a faire Boy certaine, but a foole,
To love himselfe, were there not maides enough?

Arc.
Pray forward.

Pal.
Yes.

Emil.
Or were they all hard hearted?

Wom.
They could not be to one so faire.

Emil.
Thou wouldst not.

Wom.
I thinke I should not, Madam.

Emil.
That's a good wench:
But take heede to your kindnes though.

Wom.
Why Madam?

Emil.
Men are mad things.

Arcite.
Will ye goe forward Cosen?

Emil.
Canst not thou work: such flowers in silke wench?

Wom.
Yes.

Emil.
Ile have a gowne full of 'em and of these,
This is a pretty colour, wilt not doe
Rarely upon a Skirt wench?

Wom.
Deinty Madam.

Arc.
Gosen, Cosen, how doe you Sir? Why Palamon?

Pal.
Never till now I was in prison Arcite.

Arc.
Why whats the matter Man?

Pal.
Behold, and wonder.
By heaven shee is a Goddesse.

Arcite.
Ha.

Pal.
Doe reverence.
She is a Goddesse Arcite.

Emil.
Of all Flowres.
Me thinkes a Rose is best.

Wom.
Why gentle Madam?

Emil.
It is the very Embleme of a Maide.
For when the west wind courts her gently
How modestly she blowes, and paints the Sun,
With her chaste blushes? When the North comes neere her,
Rude and impatient, then, like Chastity
Shee lockes her beauties in her bud againe,
And leaves him to base briers.

Wom.
Yet good Madam,
Sometimes her modesty will blow so far
She fals for't: a Mayde
If shee have any honour, would be loth
To take example by her.

Emil.
Thou art wanton.

Arc.
She is wondrous faire.

Pal.
She is all the beauty extant.

Emil.
The Sun grows high, lets walk in, keep these flowers,
Weele see how neere Art can come neere their colours;
I am wondrous merry hearted, I could laugh now.

Wom.
I could lie downe I am sure.

Emil.
And take one with you?

Wom.
That's as we bargaine Madam,

Emil.
Well, agree then. Exeunt Emilia and woman.

Pal.
What thinke you of this beauty?

Arc.
Tis a rare one.

Pal.
Is't but a rare one?

Arc.
Yes a matchles beauty,

Pal.
Might not a man well lose himselfe and love her?

Arc.
I cannot tell what you have done, I have,
Beshrew mine eyes for't, now I feele my Shackles.

Pal.
You love her then?

Arc.
Who would not?

Pal.
And desire her?

Arc.
Before my liberty.

Pal.
I saw her first.

Arc.
That's nothing

Pal.
But it shall be.

Arc.
I saw her too.

Pal.
Yes, but you must not love her.

Arc.
I will not as you doe; to worship her;
As she is heavenly, and a blessed Goddes;
(I love her as a woman, to enjoy her)
So both may love.

Pal.
You shall not love at all.

Arc.
Not love at all.
Who shall deny me?

Pal.
I that first saw her; I that tooke possession
First with mine eye of all those beauties
In her reveald to mankinde: if thou lou'st her.
Or entertain'st a hope to blast my wishes,
Thou art a Traytour Arcite and a fellow
False as thy Title to her: friendship, blood
And all the tyes betweene us I disclaime

If thou once thinke upon her.

Arc,
Yes I love her,
And if the lives of all my name lay on it,
I must doe so, I love her with my soule,
If that will lose ye, farewell Palamon,
I say againe, I love, and in loving her maintaine
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 mans Sonne.

Pal.
Have I cald thee friend?

Arc.
Yes, and have found me so; why are you mov'd thus?
Let me deale coldly with you, am not I
Part of you blood, part of your soule? you have told me
That I was Palamon, and you were Arcite.

Pal.
Yes.

Arc.
Am not I liable to those affections,
Those joyes, greifes, angers, feares, my friend shall suffer?

Pal.
Ye may be.

Arc.
Why then would you deale so cunningly,
So strangely, so vnlike a noble kinesman
To love alone? speake truely, doe you thinke me
Vnworthy of her sight?

Pal.
No, but unjust,
If thou pursue that sight.

Arc.
Because an other
First sees the Enemy, shall I stand still
And let mine honour downe, and never charge?

Pal.
Yes, if he be but one.

Arc.
But say that one
Had rather combat me?

Pal.
Let that one say so,
And use thy freedome: els if thou pursuest her,
Be as that cursed man that hates his Country,
A branded villaine.

Arc.
You are mad.

Pal.
I must be.
Till thou art worthy, Arcite, it concernes me,

And in this madnes, if I hazard thee
And take thy life, I deale but truely.

Arc.
Fie Sir.
You play the Childe extreamely: I will love her,
I must, I ought to doe so, and I dare,
And all this justly.

Pal.
O that now, that now
Thy false-selfe and thy friend, had but this fortune
To be one howre at liberty, and graspe
Our good Swords in our hands, I would quickly teach thee
What tw'er to filch affection from another:
Thou art baser in it then a Cut purse;
Put but thy head out of this window more,
And as I have a soule, Ile naile thy life too't.

Arc.
Thou dar'st not foole, thou canst not, thou art feeble.
Put my head out? Ile throw my Body out,
And leape the garden, when I see her next Enter Keeper.
And pitch between her armes to anger thee.

Pal.
No more; the keeper's comming; I shall live
To knocke thy braines out with my Shackles.

Arc.
Doe.

Keeper.
By your leave Gentlemen.

Pala.
Now honest keeper?

Keeper.
Lord Arcite, you must presently to'th Duke;
The cause I know not yet.

Arc.
I am ready keeper.

Keeper,
Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you
Of your faire Cosens Company. Exeunt Arcite, and Keeper.

Pal.
And me too,
Even when you please of life; why is he sent for?
It may be he shall marry her, he's goodly,
And like enough the Duke hath taken notice
Both of his blood and body: But his falsehood,
Why should a friend be treacherous? If that
Get him a wife so noble, and so faire;
Let honest men ne're love againe. Once more

I would but see this faire One: Blessed Garden,
And fruite, and flowers more blessed that still blossom
As her bright eies shine on ye, would I were
For all the fortune of my life hereafter
Yon little Tree, yon blooming Apricocke;
How I would spread, and fling my wanton armes
In at her window; I would bring her fruite
Fit for the Gods to feed on: youth and pleasure
Still as she tasted should be doubled on her,
And if she be not heavenly I would make her
So neere the Gods in nature, they should feare her. Enter Keeper.
And then I am sure she would love me: how now keeper
Wher's Arcite,

Keeper,
Banish'd: Prince Pirithous
Obtained his liberty; but never more
Vpon his oth and life must he set foote
Vpon this Kingdome.

Pal.
Hees a blessed man,
He shall see Thebs againe, and call to Armes
The bold yong men, that when he bids 'em charge,
Fall on like fire: Arcite shall have a Fortune,
If he dare make himselfe a worthy Lover,
Yet in the Feild to strike a battle for her;
And if he lose her then, he's a cold Coward;
How bravely may he beare himselfe to win her
If he be noble Arcite; thousand waies.
Were I at liberty, I would doe things
Of such a vertuous greatnes, that this Lady,
This blushing virgine should take manhood to her
And seeke to ravish me.

Keeper,
My Lord for you
I have this charge too.

Pal.
To discharge my life.

Keep.
No, but from this place to remoove your Lordship,
The windowes are too open.

Pal.
Devils take 'em
That are so envious to me; pre'thee kill me.

Keep.
And hang for't afterward.

Pal.
By this good light
Had I a sword I would kill thee.

Keep,
Why my Lord?

Pal.
Thou bringst such pelting scuruy news continually
Thou art not worthy life; I will not goe.

Keep.
Indeede yon must my Lord.

Pal.
May I see the garden?

Keep.
Noe.

Pal.
Then I am resolud, I will not goe.

Keep.
I must constraine you then: and for you are dangerous
Ile clap more yrons on you.

Pal.
Doe good keeper.
Ile shake 'em so, ye shall not sleepe,
Ile make ye a new Morrisse, must I goe?

Keep.
There is no remedy.

Pal.
Farewell kinde window.
May rude winde never hurt thee. O my Lady
If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was,
Dreame how I suffer. Come; now bury me. Exeunt Palamon, and Keeper

Scæna 3. Enter Arcite.

Arcite.
Banishd the kingdome? tis a benefit,
A mercy I must thanke 'em for, but banishd
The free enjoying of that face I die for,
Oh twas a studdied punishment, a death
Beyond Imagination: Such a vengeance
That were I old and wicked, all my sins
Could never plucke upon me. Palamon;
Thou ha'st the Start now, thou shalt stay and see
Her bright eyes breake each morning gainst thy window,
And let in life into thee; thou shalt feede
Vpon the sweetenes of a noble beauty,
That nature nev'r exceeded, nor nev'r shall:
Good gods? what happines has Palamon?
Twenty to one, hee'le come to speake to her,
And if she be as gentle, as she's faire,

I know she's his, he has a Tongue will tame
Tempests, and make the wild Rockes wanton. Come what can come,
The worst is death; I will not leave the Kingdome,
I know mine owne, is but a heape of ruins,
And no redresse there, if I goe, he has her.
I am resolu'd an other shape shall make me,
Or end my fortunes. Either way, I am happy:
Ile see her, and be neere her, or no more. Enter 4. Country people, & one with a Garlon before them.

1,
My Masters, ile be there that's certaine.

2.
And Ile be there.

3.
And I.

4.
Why then have with ye Boyes; Tis but a chiding,
Let the plough play to day, ile tick'lt out
Of the Iades tailes to morrow.

1.
I am sure
To have my wife as jealous as a Turkey:
But that's all one, ile goe through, let her mumble.

2.
Clap her aboard to morrow night, and stoa her,
And all's made up againe.

3.
I, doe but put a feskne in her fist, and you shall see her
Take a new lesson out, and be a good wench.
Doe we all hold, against the Maying?

4.
Hold? what should aile us?

3.
Arcas will be there.

2.
And Sennois.
And Rycas, and 3. better lads nev'r dancd under green Tree,
And yet know what wenches: ha?
But will the dainty Domine, the Schoolemaster keep touch
Doe you thinke: for he do's all ye know.

3.

Hee'l eate a hornebooke ere he faile: goe too, the matter's too farre driven betweene him, and the Tanners daughter, to let slip now, and she must see the Duke, and she must daunce too.

4.

Shall we be lusty.

2.

All the Boyes in Athens blow wind i'th breech on's,

and heere ile be and there ile be, for our Towne, and here againe, and there againe: ha, Boyes, heigh for the weavers.

1.

This must be done i'th woods.

4.

O pardon me.

2.

By any meanes our thing of learning sees so: where he himselfe will edifie the Duke most parlously in our behalfes: hees excellent i'th woods, bring him to'th plaines, his learning makes no cry.

3.

Weele see the sports, then every man to's Tackle: and Sweete Companions lets rehearse by any meanes, before The Ladies see us, and doe sweetly, and God knows what May come on't.

4.

Content; the sports once ended, wee'l performe. Away Boyes and hold.

Arc.

By your leaves honest friends: pray you whither goe you.

4.
Whither? why, what a question's that?

Arc.
Yes, tis a question, to me that know not.

3.
To the Games my Friend.

2.
Where were you bred you know it not?

Arc.
Not farre Sir,
Are there such Games to day?

1.
Yes marry are there:
And such as you neuer saw; The Duke himselfe
Will be in person there.

Arc.
What pastimes are they?

2,
Wrastling, and Running; Tis a pretty Fellow.

3.
Thou wilt not goe along.

Arc.
Not yet Sir.

4.
Well Sir
Take your owne time, come Boyes

1.
My minde misgives me
This fellow has a veng'ance tricke o'th hip,
Marke how his Bodi's made for't

2.
Ile be hangd though
If he dare venture, hang him plumb porredge,
He wrastle? he rost eggs. Come lets be gon Lads. Exeunt 4.

Arc.
This is an offerd oportunity
I durst not wish for. Well, I could have wrestled,
The best men calld it excellent, and run
Swifter, then winde upon a feild of Corne
(Curling the wealthy eares) never flew: Ile venture,
And in some poore disguize be there, who knowes
Whether my browes may not be girt with garlands?
And happines preferre me to a place,
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her. Exit Arcite,

Scæna 4. Enter Iailors Daughter alone.

Daugh.
Why should I love this Gentleman? Tis odds
He never will affect me; I am base,
My Father the meane Keeper of his Prison,
And he a prince; To marry him is hopelesse;
To be his whore, is witles; Out upon't;
What pushes are we wenches driven to
When fifteene once has found us? First I saw him,
I (seeing) thought he was a goodly man;
He has as much to please a woman in him,
(If he please to bestow it so) as ever
These eyes yet lookt on; Next, I pittied him,
And so would any young wench o' my Conscience
That ever dream'd, or vow'd her Maydenhead
To a yong hansom Man; Then I lov'd him,
(Extreamely lov'd him) infinitely lov'd him;
And yet he had a Cosen, faire as he too.
But in my heart was Palamon, and there
Lord, what a coyle he keepes? To heare him
Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is?
And yet his Songs are sad-ones; Fairer spoken,
Was never Gentleman. When I come in
To bring him water in a morning, first
He bowes his noble body, then salutes me, thus:
Faire, gentle Mayde, good morrow, may thy goodnes,
Get thee a happy husband; Once he kist me,
I lov'd my lips the better ten daies after,
Would he would doe so ev'ry day; He greives much,
And me as much to see his misery.

What should I doe, to make him know I love him,
For I would faine enjoy him? Say I ventur'd
To set him free? what saies the law then? Thus much
For Law, or kindred: I will doe it,
And this night, or to morrow he shall love me. Exit.

Scæna 4. Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Emilia: Arcite with a Garland, &c. This short florish of Cornets and Showtes within.

Thes.
You have done worthily; I have not seene
Since Hercules, a man of tougher synewes;
What ere you are, you run the best, and wrastle,
That these times can allow.

Arcite.
I am proud to please you.

Thes.
What Countrie bred you?

Arcite.
This; but far off, Prince.

Thes.
Are you a Gentleman?

Arcite.
My father said so;
And to those gentle uses gave me life.

Thes.
Are you his heire?

Arcite.
His yongest Sir.

Thes.
Your Father
Sure is a happy Sire then: what prooves you?

Arcite.
A little of all noble Quallities:
I could have kept a Hawke, and well have holloa'd
To a deepe crie of Dogges; I dare not praise
My feat in horsemanship: yet they that knew me
Would say it was my best peece: last, and greatest,
I would be thought a Souldier.

Thes.
You are perfect.

Pirith.
Vpon my soule, a proper man.

Emilia.
He is so.

Per.
How doe you like him Ladie?

Hip.
I admire him,
I have not seene so yong a man, so noble
(If he say true,) of his sort.

Emil.
Beleeve,
His mother was a wondrous handsome woman,
His face me thinkes, goes that way.

Hyp.
But his Body

And firie minde, illustrate a brave Father.

Per.
Marke how his vertue, like a hidden Sun
Breakes through his baser garments.

Hyp.
Hee's well got sure.

Thes.
What made you seeke this place Sir?

Arc.
Noble Theseus.
To purchase name, and doe my ablest service
To such a well-found wonder, as thy worth,
Fo onely in thy Court, of all the world
dwells faire-eyd honor.

Per.
All his words are worthy.

Thes.
Sir, we are much endebted to your travell,
Nor shall you loose your wish: Perithous
Dispose of this faire Gentleman.

Perith.
Thankes Theseus.
What ere you are y'ar mine, and I shall give you
To a most noble service, to this Lady,
This bright yong Virgin; pray observe her goodnesse;
You have honourd hir faire birth-day, with your vertues,
And as your due y'ar hirs: kisse her faire hand Sir.

Arc.
Sir, y'ar a noble Giver: dearest Bewtie,
Thus let me seale my vowd faith: when your Servant
(Your most unworthie Creature) but offends you,
Command him die, he shall.

Emil.
That were too cruell.
If you deserve well Sir; I shall soone see't:
Y'ar mine, aud somewhat better than your rancke Ile use you.

Per.
Ile see you furnish'd, and because you say
You are a horseman, I must needs intreat you
This after noone to ride, but tis a rough one.

Arc.
I like him better (Prince) I shall not then
Freeze in my Saddle.

Thes.
Sweet, you must be readie,
And you Emilia, and you (Friend) and all
To morrow by the Sun, to doe observance
To flowry May, in Dians wood: waite well Sir
Vpon your Mistris: Emely, I hope
He shall not goe a foote.

Emil.
That were a shame Sir,
While I have horses: take your choice, and what
You want at any time, let me but know it;
If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you
You'l finde a loving Mistris.

Arc.
If I doe not,
Let me finde that my Father ever hated,
Disgrace, and blowes.

Thes.
Go leade the way; you have won it:
It shall be so; you shall receave all dues
Fit for the honour you have won; Twer wrong else,
Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a Servant,
That if I were a woman, would be Master,
But you are wise. Florish.

Emil.
I hope too wise for that Sir. Exeunt omnes.

Scæna 6. Enter Iaylors Daughter alone.

Daughter.
Let all the Dukes, and all the divells rore,
He is at liberty: I have venturd for him,
And out I have brought him to a little wood
A mile hence, I have sent him, where a Cedar
Higher than all the rest, spreads like a plane
Fast by a Brooke, and there he shall keepe close,
Till I provide him Fyles, and foode, for yet
His yron bracelets are not off. O Love
What a stout hearted child thou art! My Father
Durst better have indur'd cold yron, than done it:
I love him, beyond love, and beyond reason,
Or wit, or safetie: I have made him know it
I care not, I am desperate, If the law
Finde me, and then condemne me for't; some wenches,
Some honest harted Maides, will sing my Dirge.
And tell to memory, my death was noble,
Dying almost a Martyr: That way he takes,
I purpose is my way too: Sure he cannot
Be so unmanly, as to leave me here,
If he doe, Maides will not so easily
Trust men againe: And yet he has not thank'd me
For what I have done: no not so much as kist me,

And that (me thinkes) is not so well; nor scarcely
Could I perswade him to become a Freeman,
He made such scruples of the wrong he did
To me, and to my Father. Yet I hope
When he considers more, this love of mine
Will take more root within him: Let him doe
What he will with me, so he use me kindly,
For use me so he shall, or ile proclaime him
And to his face, no-man: Ile presently
Provide him necessaries, and packe my cloathes up.
And where there is a path of ground Ile venture
So hee be with me; By him, like a shadow
Ile ever dwell; within this houre the whoobub
Will be all ore the prison: I am then
Kissing the man they looke for: farewell Father,
Get many more such prisoners, and such daughters,
And shortly you may keepe your selfe. Now to him.

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