ARCITE  The Duke has lost Hippolyta; ea...

ARCITE 

The Duke has lost Hippolyta; each took

A several laund. This is a solemn rite

They owe bloomed May, and the Athenians pay it

To th' heart of ceremony. O Queen Emilia,

Fresher than May, sweeter

Than her gold buttons on the boughs, or all

Th' enameled knacks o' th' mead or garden---yea,

We challenge too the bank of any nymph

That makes the stream seem flowers; thou, O jewel

O' th' wood, o' th' world, hast likewise blessed a pace

With thy sole presence. In thy rumination

That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between

And chop on some cold thought! Thrice blessèd

chance To drop on such a mistress, expectation

Most guiltless on 't. Tell me, O Lady Fortune,

Next after Emily my sovereign, how far

I may be proud. She takes strong note of me,

Hath made me near her; and this beauteous morn,

The prim'st of all the year, presents me with

A brace of horses; two such steeds might well

Be by a pair of kings backed, in a field

That their crowns' titles tried. Alas, alas,

Poor cousin Palamon, poor prisoner, thou

So little dream'st upon my fortune that

Thou think'st thyself the happier thing, to be

So near Emilia; me thou deem'st at Thebes,

And therein wretched, although free. But if

Thou knew'st my mistress breathed on me, and that

I eared her language, lived in her eye---O coz,

What passion would enclose thee!

Enter Palamon as out of a bush, with his shackles;

he bends his fist at Arcite.

PALAMON Traitor kinsman,

Thou shouldst perceive my passion if these signs

Of prisonment were off me, and this hand

But owner of a sword. By all oaths in one,

I and the justice of my love would make thee

A confessed traitor, O thou most perfidious

That ever gently looked, the void'st of honor

That e'er bore gentle token, falsest cousin

That ever blood made kin! Call'st thou her thine?

I'll prove it in my shackles, with these hands,

Void of appointment, that thou liest, and art

A very thief in love, a chaffy lord,

Nor worth the name of villain. Had I a sword,

And these house clogs away---

ARCITE Dear cousin Palamon---

PALAMON 

Cozener Arcite, give me language such

As thou hast showed me feat.

ARCITE Not finding in

The circuit of my breast any gross stuff

To form me like your blazon holds me to

This gentleness of answer: 'tis your passion

That thus mistakes, the which, to you being enemy,

Cannot to me be kind. Honor and honesty

I cherish and depend on, howsoe'er

You skip them in me, and with them, fair coz,

I'll maintain my proceedings. Pray be pleased

To show in generous terms your griefs, since that

Your question's with your equal, who professes

To clear his own way with the mind and sword

Of a true gentleman.

PALAMON That thou durst, Arcite!

ARCITE  My coz, my coz, you have been well advertised

How much I dare; you've seen me use my sword

Against th' advice of fear. Sure, of another

You would not hear me doubted, but your silence

Should break out, though i' th' sanctuary.

PALAMON Sir,

I have seen you move in such a place which well

Might justify your manhood; you were called

A good knight and a bold. But the whole week's not

fair

If any day it rain; their valiant temper

Men lose when they incline to treachery,

And then they fight like compelled bears---would fly

Were they not tied.

ARCITE Kinsman, you might as well

Speak this and act it in your glass as to

His ear which now disdains you.

PALAMON Come up to me;

Quit me of these cold gyves, give me a sword

Though it be rusty, and the charity

Of one meal lend me. Come before me then,

A good sword in thy hand, and do but say

That Emily is thine, I will forgive

The trespass thou hast done me---yea, my life,

If then thou carry 't; and brave souls in shades

That have died manly, which will seek of me

Some news from Earth, they shall get none but this:

That thou art brave and noble.

ARCITE Be content.

Again betake you to your hawthorn house.

With counsel of the night I will be here

With wholesome viands. These impediments

Will I file off. You shall have garments and

Perfumes to kill the smell o' th' prison. After,

When you shall stretch yourself and say but "Arcite,

I am in plight," there shall be at your choice

Both sword and armor.

PALAMON O you heavens, dares any

So noble bear a guilty business? None

But only Arcite. Therefore none but Arcite

In this kind is so bold.

ARCITE Sweet Palamon.

PALAMON  I do embrace you and your offer; for

Your offer do 't I only. Sir, your person

Without hypocrisy I may not wish

More than my sword's edge on 't.

Wind horns off; sound cornets.

ARCITE You hear the horns.

Enter your muset, lest this match between 's

Be crossed ere met. Give me your hand; farewell.

I'll bring you every needful thing. I pray you,

Take comfort and be strong.

PALAMON Pray hold your promise,

And do the deed with a bent brow. Most certain

You love me not; be rough with me, and pour

This oil out of your language. By this air,

I could for each word give a cuff, my stomach

Not reconciled by reason.

ARCITE Plainly spoken,

Yet pardon me hard language. When I spur

My horse, I chide him not; content and anger

In me have but one face.

Wind horns.

Hark, sir, they call

The scattered to the banquet; you must guess

I have an office there.

PALAMON Sir, your attendance

Cannot please heaven, and I know your office

Unjustly is achieved.

ARCITE 'Tis a good title.

I am persuaded this question, sick between 's,

By bleeding must be cured. I am a suitor

That to your sword you will bequeath this plea,

And talk of it no more.

PALAMON But this one word:

You are going now to gaze upon my mistress,

For note you, mine she is---

ARCITE Nay then,---

PALAMON Nay, pray you,

You talk of feeding me to breed me strength.

You are going now to look upon a sun

That strengthens what it looks on; there

You have a vantage o'er me, but enjoy 't till

I may enforce my remedy. Farewell.

They exit.

Shakespeare, William, The Two Noble Kinsmen, Act 3, Sc. 1

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