2. I'll be hang'd though
If he dare venture, hang him plumb-porredge,
He wrestle? He rost eggs. Come lets be gon Lads. [Exeunt 4.
Arc. This is an offer'd oportunity
I durst not wish for. Well, I could have wrestled,
The best men call'd it excellent, and run
Swifter, than wind upon a feild of Corn
(Curling the wealthy ears) never flew: I'll venture,
And in some poor disguize be there, who knows
Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands?
And happiness prefer me to a place,
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her. [Exit Arcite.
Scæena [4].
Enter Jailors Daughter alone.
Daugh. Why should I love this Gentleman? 'Tis odds
He never will affect me; [I am] base,
My Father the mean Keeper of his Prison,
And he a Prince; To marry him is hopeless;
To be his whore, is witles; Out upon't;
What pushes are we wenches driven to
When fifteen once has found us? First I saw him,
I (seeing) thought he was a goodly man;
He has as much to please a woman in him,
(If he please to bestow it so) as ever
These eyes yet lookt on; Next, I pittied him,
And so would any young wench o'my Conscience
That ever dream'd, or vow'd her Maydenhead
To a young hansom Man; Then I lov'd him,
(Extremely lov'd him) infinitely lov'd him;
And yet he had [a] Cosen, fair as he too.
But in my heart was Palamon, and there
Lord, what a coyl he keepes! To hear him
Sing in an evening, what a Heaven it is!
And yet his Songs are sad-ones; Fairer spoken,
Was never Gentleman. When I come in
To bring him water in a morning, first
He bows his noble body, then salutes me, thus:
Fair, gentle Mayd, good morrow, may thy goodness,
Get thee a happy husband; Once he kist me,
I lov'd my lips the better ten daies after,
Would he would doe so ev'ry day; He greives much,
And me as much to see his misery:
What should I doe, to make him know I love him,
For I would fain enjoy him? Say I ventur'd
To set him free? What saies the Law then? Thus much
For Law, or kindred: I will doe it,
And this night, or to morrow he shall love me. [Exit.
[This short florish of Cornets and Showtes within.
Scæna [5].
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Pirithous, Emilia: Arcite with a Garland, &c.
Thes. You have done worthily; I have not seen
Since Hercules, a man of tougher sinews;
What ere you are, you run the best, and wrestle,
That these times can allow.
Arcite. I'm proud to please you.