PERITHOUS.
O heaven,
What more then man is this!
THESEUS.
I have sworne.
ARCITE.
We seeke not
Thy breath of mercy, Theseus. Tis to me
A thing as soone to dye, as thee to say it,
And no more mov’d: where this man calls me Traitor,
Let me say thus much: if in love be Treason,
In service of so excellent a Beutie,
As I love most, and in that faith will perish,
As I have brought my life here to confirme it,
As I have serv’d her truest, worthiest,
As I dare kill this Cosen, that denies it,
So let me be most Traitor, and ye please me.
For scorning thy Edict, Duke, aske that Lady
Why she is faire, and why her eyes command me
Stay here to love her; and if she say ‘Traytor,’
I am a villaine fit to lye unburied.
PALAMON.
Thou shalt have pitty of us both, o Theseus,
If unto neither thou shew mercy; stop
(As thou art just) thy noble eare against us.
As thou art valiant, for thy Cosens soule
Whose 12. strong labours crowne his memory,
Lets die together, at one instant, Duke,
Onely a little let him fall before me,
That I may tell my Soule he shall not have her.
THESEUS.
I grant your wish, for, to say true, your Cosen
Has ten times more offended; for I gave him
More mercy then you found, Sir, your offenses
Being no more then his. None here speake for ’em,
For, ere the Sun set, both shall sleepe for ever.
HIPPOLITA.
Alas the pitty! now or never, Sister,
Speake, not to be denide; That face of yours
Will beare the curses else of after ages
For these lost Cosens.
EMILIA.
In my face, deare Sister,
I finde no anger to ’em, nor no ruyn;
The misadventure of their owne eyes kill ’em;
Yet that I will be woman, and have pitty,
My knees shall grow to’th ground but Ile get mercie.
Helpe me, deare Sister; in a deede so vertuous
The powers of all women will be with us.
Most royall Brother—
HIPPOLITA.
Sir, by our tye of Marriage—
EMILIA.
By your owne spotlesse honour—
HIPPOLITA.
By that faith,
That faire hand, and that honest heart you gave me.