Emil. Half sights saw
That Arcite was no babe, god's lyd, his richness
And costliness of spirit lookt 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, Hippolita, Perithous, Arcite as Victor and Attendants, &c.
Thes. Lo, where our Sister is in expectation,
Yet quaking, and unsetled: fairest Emilia,
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.
Thes. Oh 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 batchelor, lest his race
Should show i'th' world too godlike: his behaviour
So charm'd 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
Encountred yet his Better, I have heard
Two emulous Philomels, beat the ear o'th' night
With their contentious throats, now on[e] 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 far'd
Good space between these kinsmen; till heavens did
Make hardly one the winner: wear the Garland
With joy that you have won: for the subdu'd,
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, goe we hence,
Right joyful, with some sorrow. Arm your prize,
I know you will not lose her: Hippolita
I see one eye of yours conceives a tear
The which it will deliver. [Florish.
Emil. Is this winning?
Oh 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.
Hip. Infinite pity
That four such eyes should be so fix'd on one
That two must needs be blind for't.
Thes. So it is. [Exeunt.