Scaena 4. (Athens. A room in the prison.)
[Enter Iailors Daughter alone.]
DAUGHTER.
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 wh.o.r.e 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 n.o.ble 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.]
Scaena 5. (An open place in Athens.)
[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Emilia: Arcite with a Garland, &c.]
[This short florish of Cornets and Showtes within.]
THESEUS.
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.
THESEUS.
What Countrie 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 heire?
ARCITE.
His yongest, Sir.
THESEUS.
Your Father Sure is a happy Sire then: what prooves you?
ARCITE.
A little of all n.o.ble 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.
THESEUS.
You are perfect.
PERITHOUS.
Vpon my soule, a proper man.
EMILIA.
He is so.
PERITHOUS.
How doe you like him, Ladie?
HIPPOLITA.
I admire him; I have not seene so yong a man so n.o.ble (If he say true,) of his sort.
EMILIA.
Beleeve, His mother was a wondrous handsome woman; His face, me thinkes, goes that way.
HIPPOLITA.
But his Body And firie minde ill.u.s.trate a brave Father.
PERITHOUS.
Marke how his vertue, like a hidden Sun, Breakes through his baser garments.
HIPPOLITA.