SCENE I. A forest near Athens

Cornets in sundry places. Noise and hallowing as people a-Maying. Enter Arcite alone.

ARCITE. The Duke has lost Hippolyta; each took A several land. 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 blessed 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 honour 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. Honour 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 armour.

PALAMON. Oh 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 of cornets. ]

ARCITE. You hear the horns. Enter your musit, 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.

[ Exeunt. ]