LITMIR.BIZ

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1. (Before the Temples of Mars, Venus, and Diana.)

       [Enter Thesius, Perithous, Hipolita, attendants.]

       THESEUS.

       Now let’em enter, and before the gods

       Tender their holy prayers: Let the Temples

       Burne bright with sacred fires, and the Altars

       In hallowed clouds commend their swelling Incense

       To those above us: Let no due be wanting; [Florish of Cornets.]

       They have a noble worke in hand, will honour

       The very powers that love ‘em.

       [Enter Palamon and Arcite, and their Knights.]

       PERITHOUS.

       Sir, they enter.

       THESEUS.

       You valiant and strong harted Enemies,

       You royall German foes, that this day come

       To blow that furnesse out that flames betweene ye:

       Lay by your anger for an houre, and dove-like,

       Before the holy Altars of your helpers,

       (The all feard gods) bow downe your stubborne bodies.

       Your ire is more than mortall; So your helpe be,

       And as the gods regard ye, fight with Iustice;

       Ile leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye

       I part my wishes.

       PERITHOUS.

       Honour crowne the worthiest. [Exit Theseus, and his traine.]

       PALAMON.

       The glasse is running now that cannot finish

       Till one of us expire: Thinke you but thus,

       That were there ought in me which strove to show

       Mine enemy in this businesse, wer’t one eye

       Against another, Arme opprest by Arme,

       I would destroy th’offender, Coz, I would,

       Though parcell of my selfe: Then from this gather

       How I should tender you.

       ARCITE.

       I am in labour

       To push your name, your auncient love, our kindred

       Out of my memory; and i’th selfe same place

       To seate something I would confound: So hoyst we

       The sayles, that must these vessells port even where

       The heavenly Lymiter pleases.

       PALAMON.

       You speake well;

       Before I turne, Let me embrace thee, Cosen:

       This I shall never doe agen.

       ARCITE.

       One farewell.

       PALAMON.

       Why, let it be so: Farewell, Coz. [Exeunt Palamon and his

       Knights.]

       ARCITE.

       Farewell, Sir.—

       Knights, Kinsemen, Lovers, yea, my Sacrifices,

       True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you

       Expells the seedes of feare, and th’apprehension

       Which still is farther off it, Goe with me

       Before the god of our profession: There

       Require of him the hearts of Lyons, and

       The breath of Tigers, yea, the fearcenesse too,

       Yea, the speed also,—to goe on, I meane,

       Else wish we to be Snayles: you know my prize

       Must be drag’d out of blood; force and great feate

       Must put my Garland on, where she stickes

       The Queene of Flowers: our intercession then

       Must be to him that makes the Campe a Cestron

       Brymd with the blood of men: give me your aide

       And bend your spirits towards him. [They kneele.]

       Thou mighty one, that with thy power hast turnd

       Greene Neptune into purple, (whose Approach)

       Comets prewarne, whose havocke in vaste Feild

       Vnearthed skulls proclaime, whose breath blowes downe,

       The teeming Ceres foyzon, who doth plucke

       With hand armypotent from forth blew clowdes

       The masond Turrets, that both mak’st and break’st

       The stony girthes of Citties: me thy puple,

       Yongest follower of thy Drom, instruct this day

       With military skill, that to thy lawde

       I may advance my Streamer, and by thee,

       Be stil’d the Lord o’th day: give me, great Mars,

       Some token of thy pleasure.

       [Here they fall on their faces as formerly, and there is heard

       clanging of Armor, with a short Thunder as the burst of a

       Battaile,

       whereupon they all rise and bow to the Altar.]

       O Great Corrector of enormous times,

       Shaker of ore-rank States, thou grand decider

       Of dustie and old tytles, that healst with blood

       The earth when it is sicke, and curst the world

       O’th pluresie of people; I doe take

       Thy signes auspiciously, and in thy name

       To my designe march boldly. Let us goe. [Exeunt.]

       [Enter Palamon and his Knights, with the former observance.]

       PALAMON.

       Our stars must glister with new fire, or be

       To daie extinct; our argument is love,

       Which if the goddesse of it grant, she gives

       Victory too: then blend your spirits with mine,

       You, whose free noblenesse doe make my cause

       Your personall hazard; to the goddesse Venus

       Commend we our proceeding, and implore

       Her power unto our partie. [Here they kneele as formerly.]

       Haile, Soveraigne Queene of secrets, who hast power

       To call the feircest Tyrant from his rage,

       And weepe unto a Girle; that ha’st the might,

       Even with an ey-glance, to choke Marsis Drom

       And turne th’allarme to whispers; that canst make

       A Criple florish with his Crutch, and cure him

       Before Apollo; that may’st force the King

       To be his subjects vassaile, and induce

       Stale gravitie to daunce; the pould Bachelour—

       Whose youth, like wonton Boyes through Bonfyres,

       Have skipt thy flame—at seaventy thou canst catch

       And make him, to the scorne of his hoarse throate,

       Abuse yong laies of love: what godlike power

       Hast thou not power upon? To Phoebus thou

       Add’st flames hotter then his; the heavenly fyres

       Did scortch his mortall Son, thine him; the huntresse

      

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