PALAMON. O thou, that from eleven to ninetie raign’st In mortall bosomes, whose chase is this world, And we in heards thy game: I give thee thankes For this faire Token, which, being layd unto Mine innocent true heart, armes in assurance [They bow.] My body to this businesse. Let us rise And bow before the goddesse: Time comes on. [Exeunt.] [Still Musicke of Records.] [Enter Emilia in white, her haire about her shoulders, (wearing) a wheaten wreath: One in white holding up her traine, her haire stucke with flowers: One before her carrying a silver Hynde, in which is conveyd Incense and sweet odours, which being set upon the Altar (of Diana) her maides standing a loofe, she sets fire to it; then they curtsey and kneele.] EMILIA. O sacred, shadowie, cold and constant Queene, Abandoner of Revells, mute, contemplative, Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure As windefand Snow, who to thy femall knights Alow’st no more blood than will make a blush, Which is their orders robe: I heere, thy Priest, Am humbled fore thine Altar; O vouchsafe, With that thy rare greene eye, which never yet Beheld thing maculate, looke on thy virgin; And, sacred silver Mistris, lend thine eare (Which nev’r heard scurrill terme, into whose port Ne’re entred wanton found,) to my petition Seasond with holy feare: This is my last Of vestall office; I am bride habited, But mayden harted, a husband I have pointed, But doe not know him; out of two I should Choose one and pray for his successe, but I Am guiltlesse of election: of mine eyes, Were I to loose one, they are equall precious, I could doombe neither, that which perish’d should Goe too’t unsentenc’d: Therefore, most modest Queene, He of the two Pretenders, that best loves me And has the truest title in’t, Let him Take off my wheaten Gerland, or else grant The fyle and qualitie I hold, I may Continue in thy Band. [Here the Hynde vanishes under the Altar: and in the place ascends a Rose Tree, having one Rose upon it.] See what our Generall of Ebbs and Flowes Out from the bowells of her holy Altar With sacred act advances! But one Rose: If well inspird, this Battaile shal confound Both these brave Knights, and I, a virgin flowre Must grow alone unpluck’d. [Here is heard a sodaine twang of Instruments, and the Rose fals from the Tree (which vanishes under the altar.)] The flowre is falne, the Tree descends: O, Mistris, Thou here dischargest me; I shall be gather’d: I thinke so, but I know not thine owne will; Vnclaspe thy Misterie.—I hope she’s pleas’d, Her Signes were gratious. [They curtsey and Exeunt.] Scaena 2. (A darkened Room in the Prison.) [Enter Doctor, Iaylor and Wooer, in habite of Palamon.] DOCTOR. Has this advice I told you, done any good upon her? WOOER. O very much; The maids that kept her company Have halfe perswaded her that I am Palamon; Within this halfe houre she came smiling to me, And asked me what I would eate, and when I would kisse her: I told her presently, and kist her twice.