ACT V

Scene I. Athens. Before the Temples of Mars, Venus, and Diana Scene II. Athens. A Room in the Prison Scene III. A part of the Forest near Athens, and near the Place appointed for the Combat Scene IV. The same; a Block prepared EPILOGUE

Dramatis Personæ

PROLOGUE

ARCITE, the two noble kinsmen, cousins, PALAMON, nephews of Creon, King of Thebes

THESEUS, Duke of Athens HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, later Duchess of Athens EMILIA, Sister of Hippolyta PIRITHOUS, friend to Theseus

Three QUEENS, widows of the kings killed in laying siege to Thebes

The JAILER of Theseus’s prison His DAUGHTER, in love with Palamon His BROTHER, The WOOER of the Jailer’s daughter Two FRIENDS of the Jailer, A DOCTOR

ARTESIUS, an Athenian soldier VALERIUS, a Theban WOMAN, attending on Emilia An Athenian GENTLEMAN Six KNIGHTS, three accompanying Arcite, three Palamon

Six COUNTRYMEN, one dressed as a Bavian or baboon Gerald, a SCHOOLMASTER NEL, a countrywoman A TABORER

A singing BOY A HERALD A MESSENGER A SERVANT

EPILOGUE

Hymen (god of weddings), lords, soldiers, four countrywomen (Fritz, Maudlin, Luce, and Barbary), nymphs, attendants, maids, executioner, guard

SCENE: Athens and the Neighbourhood, except in part of the first Act, where it is Thebes and the Neighbourhood

PROLOGUE

Flourish. Enter Prologue.

PROLOGUE. New plays and maidenheads are near akin: Much followed 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 admired, 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 underground, “O, fan From me the witless chaff of such a writer That blasts my bays and my famed 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, Weak as we are, and, almost breathless, swim In this deep water. Do but you hold out 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; 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.

[Flourish. Exit.]

ACT I