yeare run out,Wee’l make thee laugh and all this rout.
THESEUS.
Take 20., Domine; how does my sweet heart?
HIPPOLITA.
Never so pleasd, Sir.
EMILIA.
Twas an excellent dance, and for a preface
I never heard a better.
THESEUS.
Schoolemaster, I thanke you.—One see’em all rewarded.
PERITHOUS.
And heer’s something to paint your Pole withall.
THESEUS.
Now to our sports againe.
SCHOOLMASTER.
May the Stag thou huntst stand long,
And thy dogs be swift and strong:
May they kill him without lets,
And the Ladies eate his dowsets!
Come, we are all made. [Winde Hornes.]
Dij Deoeq(ue) omnes, ye have danc’d rarely, wenches. [Exeunt.]
Scaena 6. (Same as Scene III.)
[Enter Palamon from the Bush.]
PALAMON.
About this houre my Cosen gave his faith
To visit me againe, and with him bring
Two Swords, and two good Armors; if he faile,
He’s neither man nor Souldier. When he left me,
I did not thinke a weeke could have restord
My lost strength to me, I was growne so low,
And Crest-falne with my wants: I thanke thee, Arcite,
Thou art yet a faire Foe; and I feele my selfe
With this refreshing, able once againe
To out dure danger: To delay it longer
Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing,
That I lay fatting like a Swine to fight,
And not a Souldier: Therefore, this blest morning
Shall be the last; and that Sword he refuses,
If it but hold, I kill him with; tis Iustice:
So love, and Fortune for me!—O, good morrow.
[Enter Arcite with Armors and Swords.]
ARCITE.
Good morrow, noble kinesman.
PALAMON.
I have put you to too much paines, Sir.
ARCITE.
That too much, faire Cosen,
Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.
PALAMON.
Would you were so in all, Sir; I could wish ye
As kinde a kinsman, as you force me finde
A beneficiall foe, that my embraces
Might thanke ye, not my blowes.
ARCITE.
I shall thinke either, well done,
A noble recompence.
PALAMON.
Then I shall quit you.
ARCITE.
Defy me in these faire termes, and you show
More then a Mistris to me, no more anger
As you love any thing that’s honourable:
We were not bred to talke, man; when we are arm’d
And both upon our guards, then let our fury,
Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us,
And then to whom the birthright of this Beauty
Truely pertaines (without obbraidings, scornes,
Dispisings of our persons, and such powtings,
Fitter for Girles and Schooleboyes) will be seene
And quickly, yours, or mine: wilt please you arme, Sir,
Or if you feele your selfe not fitting yet
And furnishd with your old strength, ile stay, Cosen,
And ev’ry day discourse you into health,
As I am spard: your person I am friends with,
And I could wish I had not saide I lov’d her,
Though I had dide; But loving such a Lady
And justifying my Love, I must not fly from’t.
PALAMON.
Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy,
That no man but thy Cosen’s fit to kill thee:
I am well and lusty, choose your Armes.
ARCITE.
Choose you, Sir.
PALAMON.
Wilt thou exceede in all, or do’st thou doe it
To make me spare thee?
ARCITE.
If you thinke so, Cosen,
You are deceived, for as I am a Soldier,
I will not spare you.
PALAMON.
That’s well said.
ARCITE.
You’l finde it.
PALAMON.
Then, as I am an honest man and love
With all the justice of affection,
