The Two Noble Kinsmen | Page 6

peace for whom he fought: who then shall offer?To Marsis so scornd Altar? I doe bleede?When such I meete, and wish great Iuno would?Resume her ancient fit of Ielouzie?To get the Soldier worke, that peace might purge?For her repletion, and retaine anew?Her charitable heart now hard, and harsher?Then strife or war could be.
ARCITE.
Are you not out??Meete you no ruine but the Soldier in?The Cranckes and turnes of Thebs? you did begin?As if you met decaies of many kindes:?Perceive you none, that doe arowse your pitty?But th'un-considerd Soldier?
PALAMON.
Yes, I pitty?Decaies where ere I finde them, but such most?That, sweating in an honourable Toyle,?Are paide with yce to coole 'em.
ARCITE.
Tis not this?I did begin to speake of: This is vertue?Of no respect in Thebs; I spake of Thebs?How dangerous if we will keepe our Honours,?It is for our resyding, where every evill?Hath a good cullor; where eve'ry seeming good's?A certaine evill, where not to be ev'n Iumpe?As they are, here were to be strangers, and?Such things to be, meere Monsters.
PALAMON.
Tis in our power,?(Vnlesse we feare that Apes can Tutor's) to?Be Masters of our manners: what neede I?Affect anothers gate, which is not catching?Where there is faith, or to be fond upon?Anothers way of speech, when by mine owne?I may be reasonably conceiv'd; sav'd too,?Speaking it truly? why am I bound?By any generous bond to follow him?Followes his Taylor, haply so long untill?The follow'd make pursuit? or let me know,?Why mine owne Barber is unblest, with him?My poore Chinne too, for tis not Cizard iust?To such a Favorites glasse: What Cannon is there?That does command my Rapier from my hip?To dangle't in my hand, or to go tip toe?Before the streete be foule? Either I am?The fore-horse in the Teame, or I am none?That draw i'th sequent trace: these poore sleight sores?Neede not a plantin; That which rips my bosome?Almost to'th heart's--
ARCITE.
Our Vncle Creon.
PALAMON.
He,?A most unbounded Tyrant, whose successes?Makes heaven unfeard, and villany assured?Beyond its power there's nothing, almost puts?Faith in a feavour, and deifies alone?Voluble chance; who onely attributes?The faculties of other Instruments?To his owne Nerves and act; Commands men service,?And what they winne in't, boot and glory; on(e)?That feares not to do harm; good, dares not; Let?The blood of mine that's sibbe to him be suckt?From me with Leeches; Let them breake and fall?Off me with that corruption.
ARCITE.
Cleere spirited Cozen,?Lets leave his Court, that we may nothing share?Of his lowd infamy: for our milke?Will relish of the pasture, and we must?Be vile or disobedient, not his kinesmen?In blood, unlesse in quality.
PALAMON.
Nothing truer:?I thinke the Ecchoes of his shames have dea'ft?The eares of heav'nly Iustice: widdows cryes?Descend againe into their throates, and have not
[enter Valerius.]
Due audience of the Gods.--Valerius!
VALERIUS.
The King cals for you; yet be leaden footed,?Till his great rage be off him. Phebus, when?He broke his whipstocke and exclaimd against?The Horses of the Sun, but whisperd too?The lowdenesse of his Fury.
PALAMON.
Small windes shake him:?But whats the matter?
VALERIUS.
Theseus (who where he threates appals,) hath sent?Deadly defyance to him, and pronounces?Ruine to Thebs; who is at hand to seale?The promise of his wrath.
ARCITE.
Let him approach;?But that we feare the Gods in him, he brings not?A jot of terrour to us; Yet what man?Thirds his owne worth (the case is each of ours)?When that his actions dregd with minde assurd?Tis bad he goes about?
PALAMON.
Leave that unreasond.?Our services stand now for Thebs, not Creon,?Yet to be neutrall to him were dishonour;?Rebellious to oppose: therefore we must?With him stand to the mercy of our Fate,?Who hath bounded our last minute.
ARCITE.
So we must.?Ist sed this warres a foote? or it shall be,?On faile of some condition?
VALERIUS.
Tis in motion?The intelligence of state came in the instant?With the defier.
PALAMON.
Lets to the king, who, were he?A quarter carrier of that honour which?His Enemy come in, the blood we venture?Should be as for our health, which were not spent,?Rather laide out for purchase: but, alas,?Our hands advanc'd before our hearts, what will?The fall o'th stroke doe damage?
ARCITE.
Let th'event,?That never erring Arbitratour, tell us?When we know all our selves, and let us follow?The becking of our chance. [Exeunt.]
Scaena 3. (Before the gates of Athens.)
[Enter Pirithous, Hipolita, Emilia.]
PERITHOUS.
No further.
HIPPOLITA.
Sir, farewell; repeat my wishes?To our great Lord, of whose succes I dare not?Make any timerous question; yet I wish him?Exces and overflow of power, and't might be,?To dure ill-dealing fortune: speede to him,?Store never hurtes good Gouernours.
PERITHOUS.
Though I know?His Ocean needes not my poore drops, yet they?Must yeild their tribute there. My precious Maide,?Those best affections, that the heavens infuse?In their best temperd peices, keepe enthroand?In your deare heart.
EMILIA.
Thanckes, Sir. Remember me?To our all royall Brother, for whose speede?The great Bellona ile sollicite; and?Since in our terrene State petitions are not?Without giftes understood, Ile offer to her?What I shall be advised she likes: our hearts?Are in his Army, in his Tent.
HIPPOLITA.
In's bosome:?We have bin