Two Noble Kinsmen (Oxford 1908)/Act 3/Scene 1

Actus Tertius.

Scaena 1. (A forest near Athens.)

[Cornets in sundry places. Noise and hallowing as people a Maying.]

[Enter Arcite alone.]

ARCITE.

The Duke has lost Hypolita; each tooke A severall land. This is a solemne Right They owe bloomd May, and the Athenians pay it To'th heart of Ceremony. O Queene Emilia, Fresher then May, sweeter Then hir gold Buttons on the bowes, or all Th'enamelld knackes o'th Meade or garden: yea, We challenge too the bancke of any Nymph That makes the streame seeme flowers; thou, o Iewell O'th wood, o'th world, hast likewise blest a place With thy sole presence: in thy rumination That I, poore man, might eftsoones come betweene And chop on some cold thought! thrice blessed chance, To drop on such a Mistris, expectation Most giltlesse on't! tell me, O Lady Fortune, (Next after Emely my Soveraigne) how far I may be prowd. She takes strong note of me, Hath made me neere her; and this beuteous Morne (The prim'st of all the yeare) presents me with A brace of horses: two such Steeds might well Be by a paire of Kings backt, in a Field That their crownes titles tride. Alas, alas, Poore Cosen Palamon, poore prisoner, thou So little dream'st upon my fortune, that Thou thinkst thy selfe the happier thing, to be So neare Emilia; me thou deem'st at Thebs, And therein wretched, although free. But if Thou knew'st my Mistris breathd on me, and that I ear'd her language, livde in her eye, O Coz, What passion would enclose thee!

[Enter Palamon as out of a Bush, with his Shackles: bends his fist at Arcite.]

PALAMON.

Traytor kinesman, Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signes Of prisonment were off me, and this hand But owner of a Sword: By all othes in one, I and the iustice of my love would make thee A confest Traytor. O thou most perfidious That ever gently lookd; the voydest of honour, That eu'r bore gentle Token; falsest Cosen That ever blood made kin, call'st thou hir thine? Ile prove it in my Shackles, with these hands, Void of appointment, that thou ly'st, and art A very theefe in love, a Chaffy Lord, Nor worth the name of villaine: had I a Sword And these house clogges away&mdash;

ARCITE.

Deere Cosin Palamon&mdash;

PALAMON.

Cosoner Arcite, give me language such As thou hast shewd me feate.

ARCITE.

Not finding in The circuit of my breast any grosse stuffe To forme me like your blazon, holds me to This gentlenesse of answer; tis your passion That thus mistakes, the which to you being enemy, Cannot to me be kind: honor, and honestie I cherish, and depend on, how so ev'r You skip them in me, and with them, faire Coz, Ile maintaine my proceedings; pray, be pleas'd To shew in generous termes your griefes, since that Your question's with your equall, who professes To cleare his owne way with the minde and Sword Of a true Gentleman.

PALAMON.

That thou durst, Arcite!

ARCITE.

My Coz, my Coz, you have beene well advertis'd How much I dare, y'ave seene me use my Sword Against th'advice of feare: sure, of another You would not heare me doubted, but your silence Should breake out, though i'th Sanctuary.

PALAMON.

Sir, I have seene you move in such a place, which well Might justifie your manhood; you were calld A good knight and a bold; But the whole weeke's not faire, If any day it rayne: Their valiant temper Men loose when they encline to trecherie, And then they fight like coupelld Beares, would fly Were they not tyde.

ARCITE.

Kinsman, you might as well Speake this and act it in your Glasse, as to His eare which now disdaines you.

PALAMON.

Come up to me, Quit me of these cold Gyves, give me a Sword, Though it be rustie, and the charity Of one meale lend me; Come before me then, A good Sword in thy hand, and doe but say That Emily is thine: I will forgive The trespasse thou hast done me, yea, my life, If then thou carry't, and brave soules in shades That have dyde manly, which will seeke of me Some newes from earth, they shall get none but this, That thou art brave and noble.

ARCITE.

Be content: Againe betake you to your hawthorne house; With counsaile 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 your selfe and say but, 'Arcite, I am in plight,' there shall be at your choyce Both Sword and Armour.

PALAMON.

Oh you heavens, dares any So noble beare a guilty busines! none But onely Arcite, therefore none but Arcite In this kinde is so bold.

ARCITE.

Sweete Palamon.

PALAMON.

I doe embrace you and your offer,&mdash;for Your offer doo't I onely, Sir; your person, Without hipocrisy I may not wish [Winde hornes of Cornets.] More then my Swords edge ont.

ARCITE.

You heare the Hornes; Enter your Musite least this match between's Be crost, er met: give me your hand; farewell. Ile bring you every needfull thing: I pray you, Take comfort and be strong.

PALAMON.

Pray hold your promise; And doe the deede with a bent brow: most certaine You love me not, be rough with me, and powre This oile out of your language; by this ayre, I could for each word give a Cuffe, my stomach Not reconcild by reason.

ARCITE.

Plainely spoken, Yet pardon me hard language: when I spur [Winde hornes.] My horse, I chide him not; content and anger In me have but one face. Harke, Sir, they call The scatterd to the Banket; you must guesse I have an office there.

PALAMON.

Sir, your attendance Cannot please heaven, and I know your office Vnjustly is atcheev'd.

ARCITE.

If a good title, I am perswaded this question sicke between's By bleeding must be cur'd. I am a Suitour, That to your Sword you will bequeath this plea And talke of it no more.

PALAMON.

But this one word: You are going now to gaze upon my Mistris, For note you, mine she is&mdash;

ARCITE.

Nay, then.

PALAMON.

Nay, pray you, You talke of feeding me to breed me strength: You are going now to looke upon a Sun That strengthens what it lookes on; there You have a vantage ore me, but enjoy't till I may enforce my remedy. Farewell. [Exeunt.]