ARCITE.
Sir, y’ar a noble Giver: dearest Bewtie,
Thus let me seale my vowd faith: when your Servant
(Your most unworthie Creature) but offends you,
Command him die, he shall.
EMILIA.
That were too cruell.
If you deserve well, Sir, I shall soone see’t:
Y’ar mine, and somewhat better than your rancke
Ile use you.
PERITHOUS.
Ile see you furnish’d, and because you say
You are a horseman, I must needs intreat you
This after noone to ride, but tis a rough one.
ARCITE.
I like him better, Prince, I shall not then
Freeze in my Saddle.
THESEUS.
Sweet, you must be readie,
And you, Emilia, and you, Friend, and all,
To morrow by the Sun, to doe observance
To flowry May, in Dians wood: waite well, Sir,
Vpon your Mistris. Emely, I hope
He shall not goe a foote.
EMILIA.
That were a shame, Sir,
While I have horses: take your choice, and what
You want at any time, let me but know it;
If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you
You’l finde a loving Mistris.
ARCITE.
If I doe not,
Let me finde that my Father ever hated,
Disgrace and blowes.
THESEUS.
Go, leade the way; you have won it:
It shall be so; you shall receave all dues
Fit for the honour you have won; Twer wrong else.
Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a Servant,
That, if I were a woman, would be Master,
But you are wise. [Florish.]
EMILIA.
I hope too wise for that, Sir. [Exeunt omnes.]