MESSENGER.
Ther's another, A little man, but of a tough soule, seeming As great as any: fairer promises In such a Body yet I never look'd on.
PERITHOUS.
O, he that's freckle fac'd?
MESSENGER.
The same, my Lord; Are they not sweet ones?
PERITHOUS.
Yes, they are well.
MESSENGER.
Me thinkes, Being so few, and well disposd, they show Great, and fine art in nature: he's white hair'd, Not wanton white, but such a manly colour Next to an aborne; tough, and nimble set, Which showes an active soule; his armes are brawny, Linde with strong sinewes: To the shoulder peece Gently they swell, like women new conceav'd, Which speakes him prone to labour, never fainting Vnder the waight of Armes; stout harted, still, But when he stirs, a Tiger; he's gray eyd, Which yeelds compassion where he conquers: sharpe To spy advantages, and where he finds 'em, He's swift to make 'em his: He do's no wrongs, Nor takes none; he's round fac'd, and when he smiles He showes a Lover, when he frownes, a Souldier: About his head he weares the winners oke, And in it stucke the favour of his Lady: His age, some six and thirtie. In his hand He beares a charging Staffe, embost with silver.
THESEUS.
Are they all thus?
PERITHOUS.
They are all the sonnes of honour.
THESEUS.
Now, as I have a soule, I long to see'em. Lady, you shall see men fight now.
HIPPOLITA.
I wish it, But not the cause, my Lord; They would show Bravely about the Titles of two Kingdomes; Tis pitty Love should be so tyrannous: O my soft harted Sister, what thinke you? Weepe not, till they weepe blood, Wench; it must be.
THESEUS.
You have steel'd 'em with your Beautie.--Honord Friend, To you I give the Feild; pray, order it Fitting the persons that must use it.
PERITHOUS.
Yes, Sir.
THESEUS.
Come, Ile goe visit 'em: I cannot stay, Their fame has fir'd me so; Till they appeare. Good Friend, be royall.
PERITHOUS.
There shall want no bravery.
EMILIA.
Poore wench, goe weepe, for whosoever wins, Looses a noble Cosen for thy sins. [Exeunt.]
Scaena 3. (A room in the prison.)
[Enter Iailor, Wooer, Doctor.]
DOCTOR.
Her distraction is more at some time of the Moone, then at other some, is it not?
IAILOR.
She is continually in a harmelesse distemper, sleepes little, altogether without appetite, save often drinking, dreaming of another world, and a better; and what broken peece of matter so'ere she's about, the name Palamon lardes it, that she farces ev'ry busines withall, fyts it to every question.--
[Enter Daughter.]
Looke where shee comes, you shall perceive her behaviour.
DAUGHTER.
I have forgot it quite; The burden on't, was DOWNE A, DOWNE A, and pend by no worse man, then Giraldo, Emilias Schoolemaster; he's as Fantasticall too, as ever he may goe upon's legs,--for in the next world will Dido see Palamon, and then will she be out of love with Eneas.
DOCTOR.
What stuff's here? pore soule!
IAILOR.
Ev'n thus all day long.
DAUGHTER.
Now for this Charme, that I told you of: you must bring a peece of silver on the tip of your tongue, or no ferry: then, if it be your chance to come where the blessed spirits, as ther's a sight now--we maids that have our Lyvers perish'd, crakt to peeces with Love, we shall come there, and doe nothing all day long but picke flowers with Proserpine; then will I make Palamon a Nosegay; then let him marke me,--then--
DOCTOR.
How prettily she's amisse? note her a little further.
DAUGHTER.
Faith, ile tell you, sometime we goe to Barly breake, we of the blessed; alas, tis a sore life they have i'th other place, such burning, frying, boyling, hissing, howling, chattring, cursing, oh they have shrowd measure! take heede; if one be mad, or hang or drowne themselves, thither they goe, Iupiter blesse vs, and there shall we be put in a Caldron of lead, and Vsurers grease, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boyle like a Gamon of Bacon that will never be enough. [Exit.]
DOCTOR.