Read the speech again and notice what the Daughter skips over. She mentions that Palamon 'made such scruples of the wrong he did to me and to my father' and 'yet I hope, when he considers more, this love of mine / Will take more root within him.' The 'yet' is doing enormous work. She has just told us — without quite telling herself — that Palamon didn't reciprocate. He went along with being freed. He felt guilty about it. He didn't love her back. She buries this observation in a subordinate clause and builds immediately over it with hope. This is the psychology of someone in the early stages of a catastrophic mistake: you see the warning sign, you note it, and you choose not to examine it. The play doesn't editorialize. It just shows us what she sees and lets us understand what she's deciding not to see.
Let all the dukes and all the devils roar,
He is at liberty! I have ventured for him
And out I have brought him; to a little wood
A mile hence I have sent him, where a cedar
Higher than all the rest spreads like a plane
Fast by a brook, and there he shall keep close
Till I provide him files and food, for yet
His iron bracelets are not off. O Love,
What a stout-hearted child thou art! My father
Durst better have endured cold iron than done it.
I love him beyond love and beyond reason,
Or wit, or safety. I have made him know it;
I care not, I am desperate. If the law
Find me and then condemn me for ’t, some wenches,
Some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge
And tell to memory my death was noble,
Dying almost a martyr. That way he takes,
I purpose is my way too. Sure he cannot
Be so unmanly as to leave me here.
If he do, maids will not so easily
Trust men again. And yet he has not thanked me
For what I have done; no, not so much as kissed me,
And that, methinks, is not so well; nor scarcely
Could I persuade him to become a free man,
He made such scruples of the wrong he did
To me and to my father. Yet I hope,
When he considers more, this love of mine
Will take more root within him. Let him do
What he will with me, so he use me kindly;
For use me so he shall, or I’ll proclaim him,
And to his face, no man. I’ll presently
Provide him necessaries and pack my clothes up,
And where there is a path of ground I’ll venture,
So he be with me. By him, like a shadow
I’ll ever dwell. Within this hour the hubbub
Will be all o’er the prison. I am then
Kissing the man they look for. Farewell, father!
Get many more such prisoners and such daughters,
And shortly you may keep yourself. Now to him.
Let all the nobles and all the demons roar—he's free! I did it for him and got him out; I sent him to a small wood a mile away, where a tall cedar tree spreads like a plane tree by a brook, and he'll stay hidden there until I bring him files and food, since his iron shackles aren't off yet. Oh Love, what a brave heart you are! My father would have endured torture better than do this. I love him beyond love and beyond reason or intelligence or safety. I've made sure he knows it; I don't care, I'm desperate. If the law finds me and condemns me for it, some good-hearted girls will sing my funeral song and tell people my death was noble, dying almost like a martyr. Wherever he goes, that's where I'm going too. He can't be so cowardly as to abandon me here. If he does, women won't trust men so easily again. And yet he hasn't even thanked me for what I've done; he hasn't even kissed me, and that troubles me. I could barely convince him to accept his freedom—he had such doubts about the wrong he did to me and my father. But I hope that when he thinks about it more, my love for him will grow stronger in his heart. Let him do what he wants with me, as long as he treats me with kindness; and he will treat me that way, or I'll call him out publicly as no man at all. I'll immediately get him supplies and pack my belongings, and wherever there's ground to walk on, I'll go, so long as I'm with him. I'll stay by his side like a shadow forever. Within the hour, the prison will be in chaos. By then I'll be kissing the man they're searching for. Goodbye, Father! If you get more such prisoners and such daughters, soon you won't need to do anything yourself. Now to him.
Let them all rage—he's free! I did it, I got him out! I sent him to a small woods about a mile away, by this tall cedar tree next to a stream, where he can hide until I bring him a file and some food. His chains are still on, so he can't go far. Oh Love, you're making me so brave! My father would have taken torture instead of doing this. I love him so completely that it doesn't matter if I go to jail or die for it. I told him everything. I don't care anymore, I'm all in. If the law catches me and punishes me, at least some good people will remember me as someone who died for love, like a martyr. Wherever he goes, I'm going too. He can't be such a coward as to leave me behind. If he does, no woman will ever trust a man again. But here's the thing—he hasn't even thanked me or kissed me, which honestly bugs me. I had to practically beg him to accept being free because he felt so guilty about what he did to me and my dad. But I think once he has time to think about it, he'll realize how much I love him and he'll return my feelings. Whatever he wants to do with me, I'm fine with it as long as he's nice to me. And he'd better be nice, or I'll tell everyone he's not a man at all. I'm gonna go get him supplies and pack my stuff, and I'll follow him anywhere, as long as we're together. I'll be by his side like a shadow forever. Pretty soon the whole prison is gonna be looking for him. When they do, I'll be with him, kissing him. So long, Dad. You should work on getting more prisoners like this and daughters like me—soon you won't have to do anything. Now let me go to him.
hes free i did it hiding by cedar tree needs files and food chains still on i love him impossibly i don't care about the law im following him everywhere he better not leave me he hasn't even kissed me i had to beg him to accept freedom but hell fall for me im his shadow forever im packing and going bye dad
The Reckoning
The aftershock of the decision she made in 2-4. She has done the thing. She is standing outside the prison before anyone knows what's happened, and she is giving us a monologue that is simultaneously triumphant and quietly devastating. The triumph: she is brave, she loves beyond reason, she has staked everything. The devastation: Palamon 'made such scruples of the wrong he did / To me and to my father.' He felt guilty, not grateful. He hasn't kissed her. He hasn't thanked her. He went away — and she is following anyway, because she told herself she would, and she is the kind of person who follows through. What the Daughter does not yet know is that Palamon's heart belongs to Emilia and always will. The audience understands what she doesn't: this is the beginning of her destruction.
If this happened today…
She posted bail for him, drove him out of the city, and hid him in her cousin's lake house. She's now sitting in her car outside the prison, before her shift starts, sending him voice notes he isn't responding to. She's telling herself he'll be grateful once he's had time to process it. In a couple of sentences, almost as an aside, she mentions he seemed weirdly focused on making sure she knew he felt terrible about what she'd risked. He didn't say he loved her.