SCENE III. A part of the Forest near Athens, and near the Place appointed for the Combat

Flourish. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous and some Attendants.

EMILIA. I’ll no step further.

PIRITHOUS. Will you lose this sight?

EMILIA. I had rather see a wren hawk at a fly Than this decision. Every blow that falls Threats a brave life; each stroke laments The place whereon it falls, and sounds more like A bell than blade. I will stay here. It is enough my hearing shall be punished With what shall happen, ’gainst the which there is No deafing, but to hear; not taint mine eye With dread sights it may shun.

PIRITHOUS. Sir, my good lord, Your sister will no further.

THESEUS. O, she must. She shall see deeds of honour in their kind, Which sometime show well, penciled. Nature now Shall make and act the story, the belief Both sealed with eye and ear. You must be present; You are the victor’s meed, the price and garland To crown the question’s title.

EMILIA. Pardon me; If I were there, I’d wink.

THESEUS. You must be there; This trial is as ’twere i’ th’ night, and you The only star to shine.

EMILIA. I am extinct. There is but envy in that light which shows The one the other. Darkness, which ever was The dam of horror, who does stand accursed Of many mortal millions, may even now, By casting her black mantle over both, That neither could find other, get herself Some part of a good name, and many a murder Set off whereto she’s guilty.

HIPPOLYTA. You must go.

EMILIA. In faith, I will not.

THESEUS. Why, the knights must kindle Their valour at your eye. Know, of this war You are the treasure, and must needs be by To give the service pay.

EMILIA. Sir, pardon me; The title of a kingdom may be tried Out of itself.

THESEUS. Well, well, then, at your pleasure. Those that remain with you could wish their office To any of their enemies.

HIPPOLYTA. Farewell, sister. I am like to know your husband ’fore yourself By some small start of time. He whom the gods Do of the two know best, I pray them he Be made your lot.

[ Exeunt all but Emilia . ]

EMILIA. Arcite is gently visaged, yet his eye Is like an engine bent, or a sharp weapon In a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon Has a most menacing aspect; his brow Is graved, and seems to bury what it frowns on; Yet sometimes ’tis not so, but alters to The quality of his thoughts. Long time his eye Will dwell upon his object. Melancholy Becomes him nobly; so does Arcite’s mirth; But Palamon’s sadness is a kind of mirth, So mingled as if mirth did make him sad And sadness merry. Those darker humours that Stick misbecomingly on others, on them Live in fair dwelling.

[ Cornets. Trumpets sound as to a charge. ]

Hark how yon spurs to spirit do incite The princes to their proof! Arcite may win me And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to The spoiling of his figure. O, what pity Enough for such a chance? If I were by, I might do hurt, for they would glance their eyes Towards my seat, and in that motion might Omit a ward or forfeit an offence Which craved that very time. It is much better I am not there.

[ Cornets. A great cry and noise within crying “À Palamon!” ]

Oh better never born Than minister to such harm.

Enter Servant .

What is the chance?

SERVANT. The cry’s “À Palamon.”

EMILIA. Then he has won. ’Twas ever likely. He looked all grace and success, and he is Doubtless the prim’st of men. I prithee run And tell me how it goes.

[ Shout and cornets, crying “À Palamon!” ]

SERVANT. Still “Palamon.”

EMILIA. Run and enquire.

[ Exit Servant . ]

Poor servant, thou hast lost. Upon my right side still I wore thy picture, Palamon’s on the left. Why so, I know not. I had no end in ’t else; chance would have it so. On the sinister side the heart lies; Palamon Had the best-boding chance.

[ Another cry and shout within, and cornets. ]

This burst of clamour Is sure th’ end o’ th’ combat.

Enter Servant .

SERVANT. They said that Palamon had Arcite’s body Within an inch o’ th’ pyramid, that the cry Was general “À Palamon.” But anon, Th’ assistants made a brave redemption, and The two bold titlers at this instant are Hand to hand at it.

EMILIA. Were they metamorphosed Both into one—O, why? There were no woman Worth so composed a man! Their single share, Their nobleness peculiar to them, gives The prejudice of disparity, value’s shortness, To any lady breathing.

[ Cornets. Cry within, “Arcite, Arcite.” ]

More exulting? “Palamon” still?

SERVANT. Nay, now the sound is “Arcite.”

EMILIA. I prithee, lay attention to the cry; Set both thine ears to th’ business.

[ Cornets. A great shout and cry “Arcite, victory!” ]

SERVANT. The cry is “Arcite”, and “Victory!” Hark, “Arcite, victory!” The combat’s consummation is proclaimed By the wind instruments.

EMILIA. Half-sights saw That Arcite was no babe. God’s lid, his richness And costliness of spirit looked through him; it could No more be hid in him than fire in flax, Than humble banks can go to law with waters That drift-winds force to raging. I did think Good Palamon would miscarry, yet I knew not Why I did think so. Our reasons are not prophets When oft our fancies are. They are coming off. Alas, poor Palamon!

Cornets. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Arcite as victor, and Attendants.

THESEUS. Lo, where our sister is in expectation, Yet quaking and unsettled.—Fairest Emily, The gods by their divine arbitrament Have given you this knight; he is a good one As ever struck at head. Give me your hands. Receive you her, you him; be plighted with A love that grows as you decay.

ARCITE. Emily, To buy you, I have lost what’s dearest to me, Save what is bought; and yet I purchase cheaply, As I do rate your value.

THESEUS. O loved sister, He speaks now of as brave a knight as e’er Did spur a noble steed. Surely the gods Would have him die a bachelor, lest his race Should show i’ th’ world too godlike. His behaviour So charmed me that methought Alcides was To him a sow of lead. If I could praise Each part of him to th’ all I have spoke, your Arcite Did not lose by ’t, for he that was thus good Encountered yet his better. I have heard Two emulous Philomels beat the ear o’ th’ night With their contentious throats, now one the higher, Anon the other, then again the first, And by-and-by out-breasted, that the sense Could not be judge between ’em. So it fared Good space between these kinsmen, till heavens did Make hardly one the winner.—Wear the garland With joy that you have won.—For the subdued, Give them our present justice, since I know Their lives but pinch ’em. Let it here be done. The scene’s not for our seeing. Go we hence Right joyful, with some sorrow.—Arm your prize; I know you will not lose her.—Hippolyta, I see one eye of yours conceives a tear, The which it will deliver.

[ Flourish. ]

EMILIA. Is this winning? O all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy? But that your wills have said it must be so, And charge me live to comfort this unfriended, This miserable prince, that cuts away A life more worthy from him than all women, I should and would die too.

HIPPOLYTA. Infinite pity That four such eyes should be so fixed on one That two must needs be blind for ’t.

THESEUS. So it is.

[ Exeunt. ]