The Two Noble Kinsmen
Act 1, Scene 3
Before the gates of Athens.
- Enter Pirithous, Hippolyta, Emilia.
- No further.
Hippolyta3 - 8
- Sir, farewell. Repeat my wishes
- To our great lord, of whose success I dare not
- Make any timorous question; yet I wish him
- Excess and overflow of power, and’t might be,
- To dure ill-dealing fortune. Speed to him,
- Store never hurts good governors.
Pirithous9 - 14
- Though I know
- His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they
- Must yield their tribute there. My precious maid,
- Those best affections that the heavens infuse
- In their best-temper’d pieces, keep enthron’d
- In your dear heart!
Emilia15 - 21
- Thanks, sir. Remember me
- To our all-royal brother, for whose speed
- The great Bellona I’ll solicit; and
- Since in our terrene state petitions are not
- Without gifts understood, I’ll offer to her
- What I shall be advis’d she likes. Our hearts
- Are in his army, in his tent.
Hippolyta22 - 29
- In ’s bosom.
- We have been soldiers, and we cannot weep
- When our friends don their helms, or put to sea,
- Or tell of babes broach’d on the lance, or women
- That have sod their infants in (and after eat them)
- The brine they wept at killing ’em. Then if
- You stay to see of us such spinsters, we
- Should hold you here forever.
Pirithous30 - 32
- Peace be to you
- As I pursue this war, which shall be then
- Beyond further requiring.
- Exit Pirithous.
Emilia34 - 42
- How his longing
- Follows his friend: since his depart, his sports,
- Though craving seriousness and skill, pass’d slightly
- His careless execution, where nor gain
- Made him regard, or loss consider, but
- Playing o’er business in his hand, another
- Directing in his head, his mind nurse equal
- To these so diff’ring twins. Have you observ’d him
- Since our great lord departed?
Hippolyta43 - 56
- With much labor;
- And I did love him for’t. They two have cabin’d
- In many as dangerous as poor a corner,
- Peril and want contending, they have skiff’d
- Torrents whose roaring tyranny and power
- I’ th’ least of these was dreadful, and they have
- Fought out together where death’s self was lodg’d;
- Yet fate hath brought them off. Their knot of love
- Tied, weav’d, entangled, with so true, so long,
- And with a finger of so deep a cunning,
- May be outworn, never undone. I think
- Theseus cannot be umpire to himself,
- Cleaving his conscience into twain and doing
- Each side like justice, which he loves best.
Emilia57 - 64
- There is a best, and reason has no manners
- To say it is not you. I was acquainted
- Once with a time when I enjoy’d a playfellow;
- You were at wars when she the grave enrich’d,
- Who made too proud the bed, took leave o’ th’ moon
- (Which then look’d pale at parting) when our count
- Was each eleven.
- ’Twas Flavina.
Emilia66 - 94
- You talk of Pirithous’ and Theseus’ love:
- Theirs has more ground, is more maturely season’d,
- More buckled with strong judgment, and their needs
- The one of th’ other may be said to water
- Their intertangled roots of love, but I
- And she (I sigh and spoke of) were things innocent,
- Lov’d for we did, and like the elements
- That know not what nor why, yet do effect
- Rare issues by their operance, our souls
- Did so to one another. What she lik’d
- Was then of me approv’d, what not, condemn’d,
- No more arraignment. The flow’r that I would pluck
- And put between my breasts (O then but beginning
- To swell about the blossom), she would long
- Till she had such another, and commit it
- To the like innocent cradle, where phoenix-like
- They died in perfume. On my head no toy
- But was her pattern, her affections (pretty,
- Though happily her careless wear) I followed
- For my most serious decking. Had mine ear
- Stol’n some new air, or at adventure humm’d one
- From musical coinage, why, it was a note
- Whereon her spirits would sojourn (rather dwell on)
- And sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsal
- (Which, ev’ry innocent wots well, comes in
- Like old importment’s bastard) has this end,
- That the true love ’tween maid and maid may be
- More than in sex dividual.
Hippolyta95 - 98
- Y’ are out of breath,
- And this high-speeded pace is but to say
- That you shall never (like the maid Flavina)
- Love any that’s call’d man.
- I am sure I shall not.
Hippolyta100 - 110
- Now alack, weak sister,
- I must no more believe thee in this point
- (Though in’t I know thou dost believe thyself)
- Than I will trust a sickly appetite,
- That loathes even as it longs. But sure, my sister,
- If I were ripe for your persuasion, you
- Have said enough to shake me from the arm
- Of the all-noble Theseus, for whose fortunes
- I will now in and kneel, with great assurance
- That we, more than his Pirithous, possess
- The high throne in his heart.
Emilia111 - 112
- I am not
- Against your faith, yet I continue mine.