Emil. In faith I will not.
Thes. Why the Knights must kindle
Their valour at your eye: know of this war
You are the Treasure, and must needs be by
To give the Service pay.
Emil. Sir, pardon me,
The Title of a Kingdom may be try'd
Out of it self.
Thes. Well, well then, at your pleasure,
Those that remain with you, could wish their office
To any of their enemies.
Hip. Farewel Sister,
I am like to know your Husband 'fore your self
By some small start of time, he whom the gods
Doe of the two, know best, I pray them, he
Be made your Lot.
[E[xeunt] Theseus, Hippolita, Perithous, &c.
Emil. Arcite is gently visag'd; yet his eye
Is like an Engine bent, or a sharp weapon
In a soft sheath; mercy, and manly courage
Are bedfellows in his visage: Palamon
Has a most menacing aspect, his brow
Is grav'd, and seems to bury what it frowns on,
Yet sometimes 'tis not so, but alters to
The quality of his thoughts; long time his eye
Will dwell upon his object. Melancholly
Becomes him nobly; so does Arcite's mirth,
But Palamon's sadness is a kind of mirth,
So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad.
And sadness, merry; those darker humors that
Stick mis-becomingly on others, on them
Live in fair dwelling. [Cornets. Trumpets sound as to a Charge.
Hark how yo[n] spurs to spirit doe incite
The Princes to their proof, Arcite may win me,
And yet may Palamon wound Arcite, to
The spoiling of his figure. Oh what pity
Enough for such a chance; if I were by
I might do hurt, for they would glance their eies
Toward my Seat, and in that motion might
Omit a Ward, or forfeit an offence
Which crav'd that very time: it is much better
[Cornets. A great cry, and noise within, crying a Palamon.
I am not there, oh better never born
Than minister to such harm, what is the chance?
Enter Servant.