Thes. What Countrie bred you?
Arcite. This; But far off, Prince.
Thes. Are you a Gentleman?
Arcite. My father said so;
And to those gentle uses gave me life.
Thes. Are you his heir?
Arcite. His youngest Sir.
Thes. Your Father
Sure is a happy S[ir]e, then: What proves you?
Arcite. A little of all noble Qualities:
I could have kept a Hawk, and well have hollow'd
To a deep crie of Dogs; I dare not praise
My feat in horsemanship: yet they that knew me
Would say it was my best peece: last, and greatest,
I would be thought a Soldier.
Thes. You are perfect.
Pirith. Upon my soul, a proper man.