LITMIR.BIZ

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       I grant your wish, for, to say true, your Cosen

       Has ten times more offended; for I gave him

       More mercy then you found, Sir, your offenses

       Being no more then his. None here speake for ‘em,

       For, ere the Sun set, both shall sleepe for ever.

       HIPPOLITA.

       Alas the pitty! now or never, Sister,

       Speake, not to be denide; That face of yours

       Will beare the curses else of after ages

       For these lost Cosens.

       EMILIA.

       In my face, deare Sister,

       I finde no anger to ‘em, nor no ruyn;

       The misadventure of their owne eyes kill ‘em;

       Yet that I will be woman, and have pitty,

       My knees shall grow to’th ground but Ile get mercie.

       Helpe me, deare Sister; in a deede so vertuous

       The powers of all women will be with us.

       Most royall Brother—

       HIPPOLITA.

       Sir, by our tye of Marriage—

       EMILIA.

       By your owne spotlesse honour—

       HIPPOLITA.

       By that faith,

       That faire hand, and that honest heart you gave me.

       EMILIA.

       By that you would have pitty in another,

       By your owne vertues infinite.

       HIPPOLITA.

       By valour,

       By all the chaste nights I have ever pleasd you.

       THESEUS.

       These are strange Conjurings.

       PERITHOUS.

       Nay, then, Ile in too:

       By all our friendship, Sir, by all our dangers,

       By all you love most: warres and this sweet Lady.

       EMILIA.

       By that you would have trembled to deny,

       A blushing Maide.

       HIPPOLITA.

       By your owne eyes: By strength,

       In which you swore I went beyond all women,

       Almost all men, and yet I yeelded, Theseus.

       PERITHOUS.

       To crowne all this: By your most noble soule,

       Which cannot want due mercie, I beg first.

       HIPPOLITA.

       Next, heare my prayers.

       EMILIA.

       Last, let me intreate, Sir.

       PERITHOUS.

       For mercy.

       HIPPOLITA.

       Mercy.

       EMILIA.

       Mercy on these Princes.

       THESEUS.

       Ye make my faith reele: Say I felt

       Compassion to’em both, how would you place it?

       EMILIA.

       Vpon their lives: But with their banishments.

       THESEUS.

       You are a right woman, Sister; you have pitty,

       But want the vnderstanding where to use it.

       If you desire their lives, invent a way

       Safer then banishment: Can these two live

       And have the agony of love about ‘em,

       And not kill one another? Every day

       They’ld fight about you; howrely bring your honour

       In publique question with their Swords. Be wise, then,

       And here forget ‘em; it concernes your credit

       And my oth equally: I have said they die;

       Better they fall by’th law, then one another.

       Bow not my honor.

       EMILIA.

       O my noble Brother,

       That oth was rashly made, and in your anger,

       Your reason will not hold it; if such vowes

       Stand for expresse will, all the world must perish.

       Beside, I have another oth gainst yours,

       Of more authority, I am sure more love,

       Not made in passion neither, but good heede.

       THESEUS.

       What is it, Sister?

       PERITHOUS.

       Vrge it home, brave Lady.

       EMILIA.

       That you would nev’r deny me any thing

       Fit for my modest suit, and your free granting:

       I tye you to your word now; if ye fall in’t,

       Thinke how you maime your honour,

       (For now I am set a begging, Sir, I am deafe

       To all but your compassion.) How, their lives

       Might breed the ruine of my name, Opinion!

       Shall any thing that loves me perish for me?

       That were a cruell wisedome; doe men proyne

       The straight yong Bowes that blush with thousand Blossoms,

       Because they may be rotten? O Duke Theseus,

       The goodly Mothers that have groand for these,

       And all the longing Maides that ever lov’d,

       If your vow stand, shall curse me and my Beauty,

       And in their funerall songs for these two Cosens

       Despise my crueltie, and cry woe worth me,

       Till I am nothing but the scorne of women;

       For heavens sake save their lives, and banish ‘em.

       THESEUS.

       On what conditions?

       EMILIA.

       Sweare’em never more

       To make me their Contention, or to know me,

       To tread upon thy Dukedome; and to be,

       Where ever they shall travel, ever strangers

       To one another.

       PALAMON.

       Ile be cut a peeces

       Before I take this oth: forget I love her?

       O all ye gods dispise me, then! Thy Banishment

       I not mislike, so we may fairely carry

       Our Swords and cause along: else, never trifle,

       But take our lives, Duke: I must love and will,

       And for that love must and dare kill this Cosen

       On any peece the earth has.

       THESEUS.

       Will you, Arcite,

       Take these conditions?

       PALAMON.

       He’s a villaine, then.

       PERITHOUS.

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