[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Emilia, Arcite in a chaire.]

PALAMON.

O miserable end of our alliance! The gods are mightie, Arcite: if thy heart, Thy worthie, manly heart, be yet unbroken, Give me thy last words; I am Palamon, One that yet loves thee dying.

ARCITE.

Take Emilia And with her all the worlds joy: Reach thy hand: Farewell: I have told my last houre. I was false, Yet never treacherous: Forgive me, Cosen:-- One kisse from faire Emilia: Tis done: Take her: I die.

PALAMON.

Thy brave soule seeke Elizium.

EMILIA.

Ile close thine eyes, Prince; blessed soules be with thee! Thou art a right good man, and while I live, This day I give to teares.

PALAMON.

And I to honour.

THESEUS.

In this place first you fought: ev'n very here I sundred you: acknowledge to the gods Our thankes that you are living. His part is playd, and though it were too short, He did it well: your day is lengthned, and The blissefull dew of heaven do's arowze you. The powerfull Venus well hath grac'd her Altar, And given you your love: Our Master Mars Hath vouch'd his Oracle, and to Arcite gave The grace of the Contention: So the Deities Have shewd due justice: Beare this hence.

PALAMON.

O Cosen, That we should things desire, which doe cost us The losse of our desire! That nought could buy Deare love, but losse of deare love!

THESEUS.

Never Fortune Did play a subtler Game: The conquerd triumphes, The victor has the Losse: yet in the passage The gods have beene most equall: Palamon, Your kinseman hath confest the right o'th Lady Did lye in you, for you first saw her, and Even then proclaimd your fancie: He restord her As your stolne Iewell, and desir'd your spirit To send him hence forgiven; The gods my justice Take from my hand, and they themselves become The Executioners: Leade your Lady off; And call your Lovers from the stage of death, Whom I adopt my Frinds. A day or two Let us looke sadly, and give grace unto The Funerall of Arcite; in whose end The visages of Bridegroomes weele put on And smile with Palamon; for whom an houre, But one houre, since, I was as dearely sorry, As glad of Arcite: and am now as glad, As for him sorry. O you heavenly Charmers, What things you make of us! For what we lacke We laugh, for what we have, are sorry: still Are children in some kind. Let us be thankefull For that which is, and with you leave dispute That are above our question. Let's goe off, And beare us like the time. [Florish. Exeunt.]

EPILOGVE

I would now aske ye how ye like the Play, But, as it is with Schoole Boyes, cannot say, I am cruell fearefull: pray, yet stay a while, And let me looke upon ye: No man smile? Then it goes hard, I see; He that has Lov'd a yong hansome wench, then, show his face-- Tis strange if none be heere--and if he will Against his Conscience, let him hisse, and kill Our Market: Tis in vaine, I see, to stay yee; Have at the worst can come, then! Now what say ye? And yet mistake me not: I am not bold; We have no such cause. If the tale we have told (For tis no other) any way content ye (For to that honest purpose it was ment ye) We have our end; and ye shall have ere long, I dare say, many a better, to prolong Your old loves to us: we, and all our might Rest at your service. Gentlemen, good night. [Florish.]

FINIS

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

All Pages of This Book