THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN

PROLOGUE

Flourish.

NEW plays and maidenheads are near akin;
Much follow'd both, for both much money gi’en,
If they stand sound and well: and a good play,
Whose modest scenes blush on his marriage-day,
And shake to lose his honour, is like her
That, after holy tie and first night's stir,
Yet still is modesty, and still retains
More of the maid to sight than husband's pains.
We pray our Play may be so; for I am sure
It has a noble breeder and a pure,

A learned, and a poet never went

More famous yet 'twixt Po and silver Trent:
Chaucer, of all admir'd, the story gives;
There constant to eternity it lives.

If we let fall the nobleness of this,

And the first sound this child hear be a hiss,
How will it shake the bones of that good man,

And make him cry from under ground, O, fan
From me the witless chaff of such a writer

That blasts my bays, and my fam'd works makes
lighter

Than Robin Hood! This is the fear we bring;
For, to say truth, it were an endless thing,

And too ambitious, to aspire to him,

you hold out

Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim
In this deep water; do but
Your helping hands, and we shall tack about,
And something do to save us: you shall hear
Scenes, though below his art, may yet appear
Worth two hours' travel. To his bones sweet sleep

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PRO

LOGUE

Content to you!-If this Play do not keep
A little dull time from us, we perceive
Our losses fall so thick, we must needs leave.

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[Flourish.

ACT I

SCENE I. Athens. Before a Temple.

Enter HYMEN with a torch burning; a Boy, in a white robe, before, singing and strewing flowers; after HYMEN, a Nymph, encompassed in her tresses, bearing a wheaten garland; then THESEUS, between two other Nymphs with wheaten chaplets on their heads ; then HIPPOLYTA, the bride, led by PIRITHOUs, and another holding a garland over her head, her tresses likewise hanging; after her, EMILIA, holding up her train; ARTESIUS and Attendants.

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough hoar,

Nor chatt'ring pie,

May on our bride-house perch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring,

But from it fly!

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Enter three Queens, in black, with veils stained, and wearing imperial crowns. The first Queen falls down at the foot of THESEUS; the second falls down at the foot of HIPPOLYTA; the third before EMILIA.

FIRST QUEEN. For pity's sake and true gentility's,

Hear, and respect me!

SEC. QUEEN.

And as you wish your
Hear, and respect me!

For your mother's sake,

womb may thrive with fair ones,

THIRD QUEEN. Now, for the love of him whom Jove

hath mark'd

The honour of your bed, and for the sake
Of clear virginity, be advocate

For us and our distresses! This good deed
Shall raze you out o' the book of trespasses
All you are set down there.

THES. Sad Lady, rise.

THES. What's your request? deliver you for all.

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FIRST QUEEN. We are three Queens, whose Sovereigns

fell before

The wrath of cruel Creon; who endure

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The beaks of ravens, talents of the kites,

And pecks of crows, in the foul fields of Thebes :

He will not suffer us to burn their bones,

To urn their ashes, nor to take the offence

Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye

Of holy Phoebus, but infects the winds

With stench of our slain Lords. O, pity, Duke!
Thou Purger of the Earth, draw thy fear'd sword,

ACT I

Sc. I

ACT I

Sc. I

That does good turns to the world; give us the bones
Of our dead Kings, that we may chapel them;
And, of thy boundless goodness, take some note
That for our crowned heads we have no roof
Save this, which is the lion's and the bear's,
And vault to every thing!

THES.

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Pray you, kneel not:
I was transported with your speech, and suffer'd
Your knees to wrong themselves. I have heard the
fortunes

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Of
your
dead Lords, which gives me such lamenting
As wakes my vengeance and revenge for 'em.
King Capanëus was your Lord: the day
That he should marry you, at such a season
As now it is with me, I met your groom
By Mars's altar: you were that time fair,
Not Juno's mantle fairer than your tresses,
Nor in more bounty spread her; your wheaten wreath
Was then nor thrash'd nor blasted; Fortune at you
Dimpled her cheek with smiles; Hercules our kinsman
(Then weaker than your eyes) laid by his club ;

He tumbled down upon his Nemean hide,

And swore his sinews thaw'd. O, Grief and Time,
Fearful consumers, you will all devour!

FIRST QUEEN. O, I hope some God,

Some God hath put his mercy in your manhood,
Whereto he 'll infuse power, and

Our undertaker!1

THES.

press you forth

Unto the helmeted Bellona use them,

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O, no knees, none, Widow!

[turns away.

And pray for me, your soldier.

Troubled I am.

SEC. QUEEN.

Honour'd Hippolyta,

Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slain

The scythe-tusk'd boar; that, with thy arm as strong

As it is white, wast near to make the male
To thy sex captive, but that this thy Lord
(Born to uphold creation in that honour
First Nature styl'd it in) shrunk thee into
The bound thou wast o'erflowing, at once subduing

1 supporter.

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Thy force and thy affection; Soldieress,
That equally canst poise sternness with pity;
Who now, I know, hast much more power on him
Than e'er he had on thee; who ow'st his strength
And his love too, who is a servant for

The tenor1 of thy speech; dear Glass of Ladies,
Bid him that we, whom flaming War doth scorch,
Under the shadow of his sword may cool us;
Require him he advance it o'er our heads:
Speak 't in a woman's key, like such a woman
As
any of us three; weep ere you fail;

Lend us a knee;

But touch the ground for us no longer time
Than a dove's motion, when the head's pluck'd off;
Tell him, if he i' the blood-siz'd field lay swoln,
Shewing the Sun his teeth, grinning at the Moon,
What you would do!

HIP.

Poor Lady, say no more:
I had as lief trace this good action with you
As that whereto I am going, and never yet
Went I so willing way. My Lord is taken
Heart-deep with your distress: let him consider;
I'll speak anon.

THIRD QUEEN [to EMILIA.] O, my petition was
Set down in ice, which, by hot grief uncandied,
Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form,

Is press'd with deeper matter.

EMI.

Pray, stand up:

O, woe!

Your grief is written in your cheek.
THIRD QUEEN.

You cannot read it there; there, through my tears,
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,

You may behold 'em. Lady, Lady, alack,

He that will all the treasure know o' the Earth
Must know the centre too; he that will fish
For my least minnow, let him lead his line
To catch one at my heart. O, pardon me!
Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,
Makes me a fool.

EMI.

ACT I

Sc. I