Pal. Small winds shake him,
But what's the matter?
Val. Theseus (who where he threats appals,) hath sent
Deadly defiance to him, and pronounces
Ruin to Thebs, who is at hand to seal
The promise of his wrath.
Arc. Let him approach:
But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not
A jot of terror to us; yet what man
Thirds his own worth (the case is each of ours)
When that his actions dregg'd, with mind assur'd
'Tis bad he goes about.
Pal. Leave that unreason'd.
Our services stand now for Thebs, not Creon,
Yet to be neutral to him, were dishonor;
Rebellious to oppose: therefore we must
With him stand to the mercy of our Fate,
Who hath bounded our last minute.
Arc. So we must;
Ist sed this wars afoot? or it shall be
On fail of some condition.
Val. 'Tis in motion
The intelligence of state came in the instant
With the defier.
P[a]l. Let's to the King, who, were he
A quarter carrier of that honor, which
His enemy came in, the bloud we venture
Should be as for our health, which were not spent,
Rather laid out for purchase: but alas
Our hands advanc'd before our hearts, what will
The fall o' th' stroke do damage?
Arci. Let th' event,
That never-erring Arbitrator, tell us
When we know all our selves, and let us follow
The becking of our chance. [Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Perithous, Hippolita, Emilia.