_Pir._ List then: your Cosin Mounted upon a Steed that _Emily_ Did first bestow on him, a black one, owing Not a hayr worth of white, which some will say Weakens his price, and many will not buy His goodness with this note: Which superstition Hear 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 t'were to'th' Musick His own hoofs made; (For as they say from iron Came Musicks origen) what envious Flint, Cold as old _Saturne_, and like him possest With fire malevolent, darted a Spark, Or what feirce 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 dooing, being therein train'd, And of kind mannage, pig-like he whines At the sharp Rowell, which he frets at rather Than any jot obeyes; Seeks all foul means Of boystrous and rough Jad'rie, to dis-seat His Lord, that kept it bravely: When nought serv'd, When neither Curb would crack, girth break, nor diff'ring plunges Dis-root his Rider whence he grew, but that He kept him 'tween his legs, on his hind hoofs on end he stands That _Arcites_ legs being higher than his head Seem'd with strange art to hang: His victors wreath Even then fell off his head: And presently Backward the jade comes o'er, and his full poyze Becomes the Riders load: Yet is he living, But such a vessell 'tis that floats but for The surge that next approaches: He much desires To have some speech with you: Loe he appears. _Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Emilia, Arcite, in a chair._ _Pal._ O miserable end of our alliance The gods are mightie _Arcite_, if thy heart, Thy worthie, manly heart be yet unbroken: Give me thy last words, I'm _Palamon_, One that yet loves thee dying. _Arc._ Take _Emilia_ And with her, all the worlds joy: Reach thy hand, Farewell: I have told my last hour; I was false, Yet never treacherous: Forgive me Cosen: One kiss from fair _Emilia_: 'Tis done: Take her: I die. _Pal._ Thy brave soul seek _Elizium_. _Emil._ I'll close thine eyes, Prince; Blessed souls be with thee Thou art a right good man, and while I live, This day I give to tears. _Pal._ And I to honor.