The Two Noble Kinsmen Act Five – “That
we should things desire which do cost us the loss of our desire!”
The final act of ‘The
Two Noble Kinsmen’ starts before the Temples of Mars, Venus and Diana. Three
altars dominate the stage as Theseus enters so that proper offerings can be
made before the duel for Emilia’s hand between Arcite and Palamon. Theseus
directs the proceedings:
(Before
the Temples of Mars, Venus, and Diana)
“Now
let ’em enter, and before the gods
Tender their holy prayers. Let the temples
Burn bright with sacred fires, and the altars
In hallowed clouds commend their swelling
incense
To those above us. Let no due be wanting;
They have a noble work in hand will honor
The very powers that love ’em…
You valiant and strong-hearted enemies,
You royal germane foes, that this day come
To blow that nearness out that flames between
ye,
Lay by your anger for an hour, and dove-like,
Before the holy altars of your helpers,
The all-fear’d gods, bow down your stubborn
bodies.
Your ire is more than mortal; so your help be;
And as the gods regard ye, fight with justice.
I’ll leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye
I part my wishes.”
Theseus exits and
Arcite and Palamon embrace. Arcite and his knights go before the altar of Mars.
Arcite asks Mars to honour him in his quest as thunder and clamor of armour is
heard:
“Knights, kinsmen, lovers, yea, my
sacrifices,
True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you
Expels the seeds of fear, and th’ apprehension
Which still is farther off it, go with me
Before the god of our profession. There
Require of him the hearts of lions and
The breath of tigers, yea, the fierceness too,
Yea, the speed also—to go on, I mean,
Else wish we to be snails. You know my prize
Must be dragg’d out of blood; force and great
feat
Must put my garland on, where she sticks
The queen of flowers. Our intercession then
Must be to him that makes the camp a cestron
Brimm’d with the blood of men. Give me your aid
And bend your spirits towards him...
O great corrector of enormous times,
Shaker of o’er-rank states, thou grand decider
Of dusty and old titles, that heal’st with blood
The earth when it is sick, and cur’st the world
O’ th’ plurisy of people! I do take
Thy signs auspiciously, and in thy name
To my design march boldly…”
Then the audience
sees Palamon and his knights enter and Palamon prays to Venus for success as
music is heard and doves flutter:
“Hail, sovereign queen of secrets, who hast
power
To call the fiercest tyrant from his rage,
And weep unto a girl; that hast the might,
Even with an eye-glance, to choke Mars’s drum
And turn th’ alarm to whispers; that canst make
A cripple flourish with his crutch, and cure him
Before Apollo; that mayst force the king
To be his subject’s vassal, and induce
Stale gravity to dance; the poll’d bachelor,
Whose youth, like wanton boys through bonfires,
Have skipp’d thy flame, at seventy thou canst
catch,
And make him, to the scorn of his hoarse throat,
Abuse young lays of love. What godlike power
Hast thou not power upon? To Phoebus thou
Add’st flames, hotter than his; the heavenly
fires
Did scorch his mortal son, thine him…
O then, most soft sweet goddess,
Give me the victory of this question, which
Is true love’s merit, and bless me with a sign
Of thy great pleasure…
O thou that from eleven to ninety reign’st
In mortal bosoms, whose chase is this world,
And we in herds thy game, I give thee thanks
For this fair token, which being laid unto
Mine innocent true heart, arms in assurance
My body to this business…”
Then Emilia, dressed
in white with flowers in her hair and carrying incense and with ambient music
playing approaches the Altar of Diana, sets fire to it and kneels:
“O sacred, shadowy, cold, and constant queen,
Abandoner of revels, mute, contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As wind-fann’d snow, who to thy female knights
Allow’st no more blood than will make a blush,
Which is their order’s robe: I here, thy priest,
Am humbled ’fore thine altar. O, vouchsafe,
With that thy rare green eye—which never yet
Beheld thing maculate—look on thy virgin,
And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear
(Which nev’r heard scurril term, into whose port
Ne’er ent’red wanton sound) to my petition,
Season’d with holy fear. This is my last
Of vestal office; I am bride-habited,
But maiden-hearted. A husband I have ’pointed,
But do not know him. Out of two I should
Choose one, and pray for his success, but I
Am guiltless of election. Of mine eyes
Were I to lose one, they are equal precious,
I could doom neither; that which perish’d should
Go to’t unsentenc’d. Therefore, most modest
queen,
He of the two pretenders that best loves me
And has the truest title in’t, let him
Take off my wheaten garland, or else grant
The file and quality I hold I may
Continue in thy band.
(A rose tree
ascends with a rose on it)
See what our general of ebbs and flows
Out from the bowels of her holy altar
With sacred act advances: but one rose!
If well inspir’d, this battle shall confound
Both these brave knights, and I, a virgin
flow’r,
Must grow alone, unpluck’d.
(Sudden twang of instruments, and the rose falls from the tree, which
vanishes under the altar.)
The flow’r is fall’n, the tree descends. O
mistress,
Thou here dischargest me. I shall be gather’d,
I think so, but I know not thine own will:
Unclasp thy mystery.—I hope she’s pleas’d,
Her signs were gracious.”
The action of the
play crosses back to a darkened room in the prison, where the Doctor hears from
the Wooer of the success of plan to treat the Jailor’s Daughter’s madness
through having the Wooer pretend to be Palamon. The Wooer relates:
“…the maids that kept her company
Have half persuaded her that I am Palamon.
Within this half hour she came smiling to me,
And ask’d me what I would eat, and when I would
kiss her.
I told her, presently, and kiss’d her twice.”
The Jailor enters and
the Doctor says that all is going well. The Jailor has his doubts and leaves to
get his daughter. The Doctor says to the Wooer that if the Jailor’s Daughter
makes advances towards him he should succumb. The Jailor enters with his
daughter and the Wooer retires. The Jailor’s Daughter waxes lyrical about the
virtues of her love. The Wooer reappears. They talk and the Wooer proposes that
they get married. The Jailor’s Daughter agrees and they kiss. Still a little
deluded and thinking that the Doctor is Arcite while still believing that the
Wooer is her Palamon, the Jailor’s Daughter expresses her contentment and plans
for the future:
“We shall have many children.—Lord, how y’
are grown!
My Palamon I hope will grow too, finely,
Now he’s at liberty. Alas, poor chicken,
He was kept down with hard meat and ill lodging,
But I’ll kiss him up again.”
In the next scene,
Theseus and his party go off to see the contest between Arcite and Palamon.
Emilia pleads to not see this event since it will distress her. Theseus
eventually allows Emilia to stay and avoid seeing the contest. Emilia weighs up
the merits of both men who are her suitors:
“Arcite is gently visag’d; yet his eye
Is like an engine bent, or a sharp weapon
In a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage
Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon
Has a most menacing aspect, his brow
Is grav’d, and seems to bury what it frowns on,
Yet sometime ’tis not so, but alters to
The quality of his thoughts; long time his eye
Will dwell upon his object; melancholy
Becomes him nobly. So does Arcite’s mirth,
But Palamon’s sadness is a kind of mirth,
So mingled as if mirth did make him sad,
And sadness merry; those darker humors that
Stick misbecomingly on others, on him
Live in fair dwelling.
Cornets.
Trumpets sound as to a charge.
Hark how yon spurs to spirit do incite
The princes to their proof! Arcite may win me,
And yet may Palamon wound Arcite to
The spoiling of his figure. O, what pity
Enough for such a chance? If I were by,
I might do hurt, for they would glance their
eyes
Toward my seat, and in that motion might
Omit a ward, or forfeit an offense,
Which crav’d that very time. It is much better
I am not there. O, better never born
Than minister to such harm!”
The battle happens
off stage and at first the cries indicate Palamon is winning and then the final
cries declare that Arcite has won. Theseus enters with Arcite and tells Emilia
that the Gods have given her Arcite as her knight and victor:
“…Fairest Emily,
The gods by their divine arbitrement
Have given you this knight: he is a good one
As ever strook at head. Give me your hands.
Receive you her, you him, be plighted with
A love that grows as you decay…
O loved sister,
He speaks now of as brave a knight as e’er
Did spur a noble steed. Surely the gods
Would have him die a bachelor, lest his race
Should show i’ th’ world too godlike. His
behavior
So charm’d me that methought Alcides was
To him a sow of lead. If I could praise
Each part of him to th’ all I have spoke, your
Arcite
Did not lose by’t; for he that was thus good
Encount’red yet his better. I have heard
Two emulous Philomels beat the ear o’ th’ night
With their contentious throats, now one the
higher,
Anon the other, then again the first,
And by and by out-breasted, that the sense
Could not be judge between ’em. So it far’d
Good space between these kinsmen; till heavens
did
Make hardly one the winner.—Wear the girlond
With joy that you have won.—For the subdu’d,
Give them our present justice, since I know
Their lives but pinch ’em. Let it here be done.
The scene’s not for our seeing, go we hence,
Right joyful, with some sorrow.—Arm your prize,
I know you will not loose her.—Hippolyta,
I see one eye of yours conceives a tear,
The which it will deliver.”
However, Emilia
expresses her distress that Fate has given her a Arcite who she suspects does
not love her as much as Palamon does. Emilia accepts her fate although is
clearly distressed.
We cross to a place
near the lists for the contest. Palamon and three of his knights are pinion’d
and a block is made ready for their execution. Palamon prepares himself and his
men for death:
“There’s
many a man alive that hath outliv’d
The love o’ th’ people, yea, i’ th’ self-same
state
Stands many a father with his child. Some
comfort
We have by so considering: we expire,
And not without men’s pity; to live still,
Have their good wishes; we prevent
The loathsome misery of age, beguile
The gout and rheum, that in lag hours attend
For grey approachers; we come towards the gods
Young and unwapper’d, not halting under crimes
Many and stale. That sure shall please the gods
Sooner than such, to give us nectar with ’em,
For we are more clear spirits. My dear kinsmen,
Whose lives (for this poor comfort) are laid
down,
You have sold ’em too too cheap.”
The Jailor enters and
Palamon asks about his daughter who helped him escape. The Jailor says his
daughter is restored to health and is to be married soon. Palamon gives his
purse to the Jailor for his daughter. His knights do the
same. It seems that the end is near for Palamon and his knights. Then a cry of
“Hold” is heard and a Messenger, Pirithous
and others enter in haste. Pirithous then reveals how fate has twisted its
course and intervened once more and he relates how Arcite has been injured
and is on the verge of death from a horse riding accident. He relates the story:
“Mounted upon a steed that Emily
Did first bestow on him—a black one, owing
Not a hair-worth of white, which some will say
Weakens his price, and many will not buy
His goodness with this note; which superstition
Here finds allowance—on this horse is Arcite
Trotting the stones of Athens, which the calkins
Did rather tell than trample; for the horse
Would make his length a mile, if’t pleas’d his
rider
To put pride in him. As he thus went counting
The flinty pavement, dancing as ’twere to th’
music
His own hoofs made (for as they say from iron
Came music’s origin), what envious flint,
Cold as old Saturn, and like him possess’d
With fire malevolent, darted a spark,
Or what fierce sulphur else, to this end made,
I comment not—the hot horse, hot as fire,
Took toy at this, and fell to what disorder
His power could give his will, bounds, comes on
end,
Forgets school-doing, being therein train’d,
And of kind manage; pig-like he whines
At the sharp rowel, which he frets at rather
Than any jot obeys; seeks all foul means
Of boist’rous and rough jad’ry, to disseat
His lord that kept it bravely. When nought
serv’d,
When neither curb would crack, girth break, nor
diff’ring plunges
Disroot his rider whence he grew, but that
He kept him ’tween his legs, on his hind hoofs
On end he stands,
That Arcite’s legs, being higher than his head,
Seem’d with strange art to hang. His victor’s
wreath
Even then fell off his head; and presently
Backward the jade comes o’er, and his full poise
Becomes the rider’s load. Yet is he living,
But such a vessel ’tis that floats but for
The surge that next approaches. He much desires
To have some speech with you. Lo he appears.”
Theseus and his train
enters with Arcite on a chair, close to death. Before he dies, Arcite gives
Emilia's hand to Palamon. Arcite dies. Theseus ends the play by telling
everyone that we cannot know what fortune and the Gods want since they often play with us and
we should be thankful for what hand Fortune deals us:
“Never fortune
Did play a subtler game. The conquer’d triumphs,
The victor has the loss; yet in the passage
The gods have been most equal. Palamon,
Your kinsman hath confess’d the right o’ th’
lady
Did lie in you, for you first saw her, and
Even then proclaim’d your fancy. He restor’d her
As your stol’n jewel, and desir’d your spirit
To send him hence forgiven. The gods my justice
Take from my hand, and they themselves become
The executioners. Lead your lady off;
And call your lovers from the stage of death,
Whom I adopt my friends. A day or two
Let us look sadly, and give grace unto
The funeral of Arcite, in whose end
The visages of bridegrooms we’ll put on
And smile with Palamon; for whom an hour,
But one hour since, I was as dearly sorry
As glad of Arcite; and am now as glad
As for him sorry. O you heavenly charmers,
What things you make of us! For what we lack
We laugh, for what we have are sorry, still
Are children in some kind. Let us be thankful
For that which is, and with you leave dispute
That are above our question. Let’s go off,
And bear us like the time.”