Page 1411 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

And bow before the goddess.
They bow.
Time comes on.
Exeunt Palamon and his knights.

Still music of records Enter Emilia in white, her hair about her shoulders,
with a wheaten wreath; one in white holding up her train, her hair stuck with
flowers; one before her carrying a silver hind, in which is conveyed incense
and sweet odours; which being set upon the altar of Diana, her maids
standing aloof, she sets fire to it. Then they curtsy and kneel.

EMILIA
O sacred, shadowy, cold, and constant queen,
Abandoner of revels, mute contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As wind-fanned snow, who to thy female knights [140]

Allowest 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; [145]
And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear −
Which ne’er heard scurril term, into whose port
Ne’er entered wanton sound − to my petition

Seasoned with holy fear. This is my last
Of vestal office; I am bride-habited, [150]
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, [155]
I could doom neither; that which perished should

Go to’t unsentenced. 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 [160]

The file and quality I hold I may
Continue in thy band.