Ch. 757: SCENE I. Athens. Before a temple

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. Then Artesius and Attendants.

[_Music. _]

The Song

_Roses, their sharp spines being gone,

Not royal in their smells alone,

But in their hue;

Maiden pinks of odour faint,

Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,

And sweet thyme true;_

_Primrose, first-born child of Ver,

Merry springtime’s harbinger,

With harebells dim,

Oxlips in their cradles growing,

Marigolds on deathbeds blowing,

Lark’s-heels trim;_

[_Strews flowers. _]

_All dear Nature’s children sweet

Lie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet,

Blessing their sense.

Not an angel of the air,

Bird melodious or bird fair,

Is absent hence. _

_The crow, the sland’rous 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. _

Enter three Queens in black, with veils stained, with 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.

SECOND QUEEN.

For your mother’s sake,

And as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones,

Hear and respect me.

THIRD QUEEN.

Now, for the love of him whom Jove hath marked

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’ th’ book of trespasses

All you are set down there.

THESEUS.

Sad lady, rise.

HIPPOLYTA.

Stand up.

EMILIA.

No knees to me.

What woman I may stead that is distressed,

Does bind me to her.

THESEUS.

What’s your request? Deliver you for all.

FIRST QUEEN.

We are three queens whose sovereigns fell before

The wrath of cruel Creon, who endure

The beaks of ravens, talons 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 th’ offence

Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye

Of holy Phœbus, but infects the winds

With stench of our slain lords. O, pity, Duke!

Thou purger of the earth, draw thy feared sword

That does good turns to th’ 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 everything.

THESEUS.

Pray you, kneel not.

I was transported with your speech and suffered

Your knees to wrong themselves. I have heard the fortunes

Of your dead lords, which gives me such lamenting

As wakes my vengeance and revenge for ’em.

King Capaneus 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 threshed 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 thawed. 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 press you forth

Our undertaker.

THESEUS.

O, no knees, none, widow!

Unto the helmeted Bellona use them,

And pray for me, your soldier.

Troubled I am.

[_Turns away. _]

SECOND QUEEN.

Honoured Hippolyta,

Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slain

The scythe-tusked 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 styled it in, shrunk thee into

The bound thou wast o’erflowing, at once subduing

Thy force and thy affection; soldieress

That equally canst poise sternness with pity,

Whom now I know hast much more power on him

Than ever he had on thee, who ow’st his strength

And his love too, who is a servant for

The tenor 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 plucked off.

Tell him if he i’ th’ blood-sized field lay swollen,

Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon,

What you would do.

HIPPOLYTA.

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.

O, my petition was

Set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied

Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form,

Is pressed with deeper matter.

EMILIA.

Pray, stand up;

Your grief is written in your cheek.

THIRD QUEEN.

O, woe!

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’ th’ earth

Must know the center 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.

EMILIA.

Pray you say nothing, pray you.

Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in ’t,

Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you were

The ground-piece of some painter, I would buy you

T’ instruct me ’gainst a capital grief, indeed

Such heart-pierced demonstration. But, alas,

Being a natural sister of our sex,

Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me

That it shall make a counter-reflect ’gainst

My brother’s heart and warm it to some pity,

Though it were made of stone. Pray have good comfort.

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.

FIRST QUEEN.

Dowagers, take hands.

Let us be widows to our woes; delay

Commends us to a famishing hope.

ALL THE QUEENS.

Farewell!

SECOND QUEEN.

We come unseasonably; but when could grief

Cull forth, as unpanged judgement can, fitt’st time

For best solicitation?

THESEUS.

Why, good ladies,

This is a service, whereto I am going,

Greater than any war; it more imports me

Than all the actions that I have foregone,

Or futurely can cope.

FIRST QUEEN.

The more proclaiming

Our suit shall be neglected when her arms,

Able to lock Jove from a synod, shall

By warranting moonlight corselet thee. O, when

Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall

Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou think

Of rotten kings or blubbered queens? What care

For what thou feel’st not, what thou feel’st being able

To make Mars spurn his drum? O, if thou couch

But one night with her, every hour in ’t will

Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and

Thou shalt remember nothing more than what

That banquet bids thee to.

HIPPOLYTA.

Though much unlike

You should be so transported, as much sorry

I should be such a suitor, yet I think,

Did I not, by th’ abstaining of my joy,

Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit

That craves a present med’cine, I should pluck

All ladies’ scandal on me. Therefore, sir,

[_She kneels. _]

As I shall here make trial of my prayers,

Either presuming them to have some force,

Or sentencing for aye their vigor dumb,

Prorogue this business we are going about, and hang

Your shield afore your heart, about that neck

Which is my fee, and which I freely lend

To do these poor queens service.

ALL QUEENS.

[_To Emilia_.] O, help now!

Our cause cries for your knee.

EMILIA.

[_To Theseus, kneeling_.] If you grant not

My sister her petition in that force,

With that celerity and nature, which

She makes it in, from henceforth I’ll not dare

To ask you anything, nor be so hardy

Ever to take a husband.

THESEUS.

Pray stand up.

I am entreating of myself to do

[_They rise. _]

That which you kneel to have me. —Pirithous,

Lead on the bride; get you and pray the gods

For success and return; omit not anything

In the pretended celebration. —Queens,

Follow your soldier. [_To Artesius. _] As before, hence you,

And at the banks of Aulis meet us with

The forces you can raise, where we shall find

The moiety of a number for a business

More bigger looked.

[_Exit Artesius. _]

[_To Hippolyta. _] Since that our theme is haste,

I stamp this kiss upon thy currant lip;

Sweet, keep it as my token. Set you forward,

For I will see you gone.

[_The wedding procession moves towards the temple. _]

Farewell, my beauteous sister. —Pirithous,

Keep the feast full; bate not an hour on ’t.

PIRITHOUS.

Sir,

I’ll follow you at heels. The feast’s solemnity

Shall want till your return.

THESEUS.

Cousin, I charge you,

Budge not from Athens. We shall be returning

Ere you can end this feast, of which I pray you

Make no abatement. Once more, farewell all.

[_Exeunt all but Theseus and the Queens. _]

FIRST QUEEN.

Thus dost thou still make good the tongue o’ th’ world.

SECOND QUEEN.

And earn’st a deity equal with Mars.

THIRD QUEEN.

If not above him, for

Thou, being but mortal, mak’st affections bend

To godlike honours; they themselves, some say,

Groan under such a mast’ry.

THESEUS.

As we are men,

Thus should we do; being sensually subdued,

We lose our human title. Good cheer, ladies.

Now turn we towards your comforts.

[_Flourish. Exeunt. _]