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.