The Two Noble Kinsmen

roast eggs! Come, let’s be gone, lads. Exeunt Countrymen. Arcite

This is an offer’d opportunity
I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled,
The best men call’d it excellent; and run
Swifter than wind upon a field of corn,
Curling the wealthy ears, nev’r flew. I’ll venture,
And in some poor disguise be there: who knows
Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands,
And happiness prefer me to a place
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her? Exit.

Scene IV

Athens. A room in the prison.

Enter Gaoler’s Daughter.

Daughter

Why should I love this gentleman? ’tis odds He never will affect me: I am base, My father the mean keeper of his prison, And he a prince: to marry him is hopeless, To be his whore is witless. Out upon’t! What pushes are we wenches driven to, When fifteen 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 look’d on: next I pitied him; And so would any young wench, o’ my conscience, That ever dream’d, or vow’d her maidenhead To a young handsome man: then I lov’d him, Extremely lov’d him, infinitely lov’d him; And yet he had a cousin, fair as he too; But in my heart was Palamon, and there, Lord, what a coil he keeps! To hear 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 bows his noble body, then salutes me thus, “Fair, gentle maid, good morrow: may thy goodness Get thee a happy husband!” Once he kiss’d me; I lov’d my lips the better ten days after: Would he would do so every day! He grieves much, And me as much to see his misery: What should I do, to make him know I love him? For I would fain enjoy him say I ventur’d To set him free? what says the law, then? Thus much For law, or kindred! I will do it; And this night or to-morrow he shall love me. Exit.

Scene V

An open place in Athens.

	A short flourish of cornets, and shouts within. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Emilia; Arcite, as a Countryman, wearing a garland; and Country-people.
Theseus	You have done worthily; I have not seen, Since Hercules, a man of tougher sinews: Whate’er you are, you run the best, and wrestle, That these times can allow.
Arcite	I’m proud to please you.
Theseus	What country bred you?
Arcite	This; but far off, prince.
Theseus	Are you a gentleman?
Arcite	My father said so; And to those gentle uses gave me life.
Theseus	Are you his heir?
Arcite	His youngest, sir.
Theseus	Your father, Sure, is a happy sire then. What proves you?
Arcite	A little of all noble qualities: I could have kept a hawk, and well have holla’d To a deep cry of dogs; I dare not praise My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me Would say it was my best piece; last and greatest, I would be thought a soldier.
Theseus	You are perfect.
Pirithous	Upon my soul, a proper man!
Emilia	He is so.
Pirithous	How do you like him, lady?
Hippolyta	I admire him: I have not seen so young a man so noble⁠— If he say true⁠—of his sort.
Emilia	Believe, His mother was a wondrous handsome woman; His face methinks goes that way.
Hippolyta	But his body And fiery mind illustrate a brave father.
Pirithous	Mark how his virtue, like a hidden sun, Breaks through his baser garments!
Hippolyta	He’s well got, sure.
Theseus	What made you seek this place, sir?
Arcite	Noble Theseus, To purchase a name, and do my ablest service To such a well-found wonder as thy worth; For only in thy court, of all the world, Dwells fair-ey’d Honour.
Pirithous	All his words are worthy.
Theseus	Sir, we are much indebted to your travel, Nor shall you lose your wish.⁠—Pirithous, Dispose of this fair gentleman.
Pirithous	Thanks, Theseus.⁠— Whate’re you are, you’re mine; and I shall give you To a most noble service⁠—to this lady, This bright young virgin: pray, observe her goodness: You’ve honour’d her fair birthday with your virtues, And, as your due, you’re hers; kiss her fair hand, sir.
Arcite	Sir, you’re a noble giver.⁠—To Emilia. Dearest beauty, Thus let me seal my vow’d faith. Kisses her hand. When your servant⁠— Your most unworthy creature⁠—but offends you, Command him die, he shall.
Emilia	That were too cruel. If you deserve well, sir, I shall soon see it: You’re mine; and somewhat better than your rank I’ll use you.
Pirithous	I’ll see you furnish’d: and because you say You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you This afternoon to ride; but ’tis a rough one.
Arcite	I like him better, prince; I shall not, then, Freeze in my saddle.
Theseus	Sweet, you must be ready⁠— And you, Emilia⁠—and you, friend⁠—and all⁠— To-morrow by the sun, to do observance To flowery May, in Dian’s wood.⁠—Wait well, sir, Upon your mistress.⁠—Emily, I hope He shall not go afoot.
Emilia	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’ll find a loving mistress.
Arcite	If I do not, Let me find that my father ever hated⁠— Disgrace and blows.
Theseus	Go, lead the way; you’ve won it; It shall be so: you shall receive all dues Fit for the honour you have won; ’twere wrong else.⁠— Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a servant, That, if I were a woman, would be master: But you are wise.
Emilia	I hope too wise for that, sir. Flourish. Exeunt.

Scene VI

Athens. Before the prison.

	Enter Gaoler’s Daughter.
Daughter	Let all the dukes and all the devils roar, He is at liberty: I’ve ventur’d for him; And out I’ve 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 brook; and there he shall keep close, Till I provide him files and food; for yet His iron bracelets are not off. O Love, What a stout-hearted child thou art!