THESEUS.
Forward to th’ temple! Leave not out a jot
O’ th’ sacred ceremony.
FIRST QUEEN.
O, this celebration
Will longer last and be more costly than
Your suppliants’ war! Remember that your fame
Knolls in the ear o’ th’ world; what you do quickly
Is not done rashly; your first thought is more
Than others’ laboured meditance, your premeditating
More than their actions. But, O Jove, your actions,
Soon as they move, as ospreys do the fish,
Subdue before they touch. Think, dear Duke, think
What beds our slain kings have!
SECOND QUEEN.
What griefs our beds,
That our dear lords have none!
THIRD QUEEN.
None fit for th’ dead.
Those that with cords, knives, drams, precipitance,
Weary of this world’s light, have to themselves
Been death’s most horrid agents, human grace
Affords them dust and shadow.
FIRST QUEEN.
But our lords
Lie blist’ring ’fore the visitating sun,
And were good kings when living.
THESEUS.
It is true, and I will give you comfort
To give your dead lords graves;
The which to do must make some work with Creon.
FIRST QUEEN.
And that work presents itself to th’ doing.
Now ’twill take form; the heats are gone tomorrow.
Then, bootless toil must recompense itself
With its own sweat. Now he’s secure,
Not dreams we stand before your puissance,
Rinsing our holy begging in our eyes
To make petition clear.
SECOND QUEEN.
Now you may take him, drunk with his victory.
THIRD QUEEN.
And his army full of bread and sloth.
THESEUS.
Artesius, that best knowest
How to draw out fit to this enterprise
The prim’st for this proceeding, and the number
To carry such a business: forth and levy
Our worthiest instruments, whilst we dispatch
This grand act of our life, this daring deed
Of fate in wedlock.