The Two Noble Kinsmen

you
Have said enough to shake me from the arm
Of the all-noble Theseus; for whose fortunes
I will now in and kneel, with great assurance
That we, more than his Pirithous, possess
The high throne in his heart. Emilia

I am not
Against your faith; yet I continue mine. Cornets. Exeunt.

Scene IV

A field before Thebes.

	A battle struck within; then a retreat; flourish. Then enter Theseus (victor), Herald, and Attendants. The three Queens meet Theseus, and fall on their faces before him.
First Queen	To thee no star be dark!
Second Queen	Both heaven and earth Friend thee for ever!
Third Queen	All the good that may Be wish’d upon thy head, I cry Amen to’t!
Theseus	Th’ impartial gods, who from the mounted heavens View us their mortal herd, behold who err, And in their time chastise. Go, and find out The bones of your dead lords, and honour them With treble ceremony: rather than a gap Should be in their dear rites, we would supply’t. But those we will depute which shall invest You in your dignities, and even each thing Our haste does leave imperfect. So, adieu, And heaven’s good eyes look on you! Exeunt Queens.
	Palamon and Arcite borne in on hearses.
	What are those?
Herald	Men of great quality, as may be judg’d By their appointment; some of Thebes have told’s They’re sisters’ children, nephews to the king.
Theseus	By th’ helm of Mars, I saw them in the war⁠— Like to a pair of lions smear’d with prey⁠— Make lanes in troops aghast: I fix’d my note Constantly on them; for they were a mark Worth a god’s view. What was’t that prisoner told me When I enquir’d their names?
Herald	We ’lieve, they’re called Arcite and Palamon.
Theseus	’Tis right; those, those. They are not dead?
Herald	Nor in a state of life: had they been taken When their last hurts were given, ’twas possible They might have been recover’d; yet they breathe, And have the name of men.
Theseus	Then like men use ’em: The very lees of such, millions of rates Exceed the wine of others: all our surgeons Convent in their behoof; our richest balms, Rather than niggard, waste: their lives concern us Much more than Thebes is worth: rather than have ’em Freed of this plight, and in their morning state, Sound and at liberty, I would ’em dead; But, forty thousand fold, we had rather have ’em Prisoners to us than death. Bear ’em speedily From our kind air⁠—to them unkind⁠—and minister What man to man may do; for our sake, more: Since I have known frights, fury, friends’ behests, Love’s provocations, zeal, a mistress’ task, Desire of liberty, a fever, madness, Hath set a mark⁠—which nature could not reach to Without some imposition⁠—sickness in will, Or wrestling strength in reason. For our love, And great Apollo’s mercy, all our best Their best skill tender!⁠—Lead into the city; Where, having bound things scatter’d, we will post To Athens ’for our army. Flourish. Exeunt; Attendants carrying Palamon and Arcite.

Scene V

Another part of the same, more remote from Thebes.

	Enter the Queens with the hearses of their Knights, in a funeral solemnity, etc.
	Song.
	Urns and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms, and gums, and heavy cheers, Sacred vials fill’d with tears, And clamours through the wild air flying! Come, all sad and solemn shows, That are quick-ey’d pleasure’s foes! We convent naught else but woes: We convent, etc.
Third Queen	This funeral path brings to your household’s grave: Joy seize on you again! Peace sleep with him!
Second Queen	And this to yours.
First Queen	Yours this way. Heavens lend A thousand differing ways to one sure end.
Third Queen	This world’s a city full of straying streets, And death’s the market-place, where each one meets. Exeunt severally.

Act II

Scene I

Athens. A garden, with a castle in the background.

	Enter Gaoler and Wooer.
Gaoler	I may depart with little, while I live; something I may cast to you, not much. Alas! the prison I keep, though it be for great ones, yet they seldom come: before one salmon, you shall take a number of minnows. I am given out to be better lined than it can appear to me report is a true speaker: I would I were really that I am delivered 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 demand no more than your own offer; and I will estate your daughter in what I have promised.
Gaoler	Well, we will talk more of this when the solemnity is past. But have you a full promise of her? when that shall be seen, I tender my consent.
Wooer	I have, sir. Here she comes.
	Enter Gaoler’s Daughter.
Gaoler	Your friend and I have chanced to name you here, upon the old business; but no more of that now: so soon as the court-hurry is over, we will have an end of it: i’ the meantime, look tenderly to the two prisoners; I can tell you they are princes.
Daughter	These strewings are for their chamber. ’Tis pity they are in prison, and ’twere pity they should be out. I do think they have patience to make any adversity ashamed: the prison itself is proud of ’em; and they have all the world in their chamber.
Gaoler	They are famed to be a pair of absolute men.
Daughter	By my troth, I think fame but stammers ’em; they stand a greise above the reach of report.
Gaoler	I heard them reported in the battle to be the only doers.
Daughter	Nay, most likely; for they are noble sufferers. I marvel how they would have looked, had they been victors, that with such a constant nobility enforce a freedom out of bondage, making misery their mirth, and affliction a toy to jest at.
Gaoler	Do they so?
Daughter	It seems to me they have no more sense of their captivity than I of ruling Athens: they eat well,