EMILIA.
Sweare’em never more
To make me their Contention, or to know me,
To tread upon thy Dukedome; and to be,
Where ever they shall travel, ever strangers
To one another.
PALAMON.
Ile be cut a peeces
Before I take this oth: forget I love her?
O all ye gods dispise me, then! Thy Banishment
I not mislike, so we may fairely carry
Our Swords and cause along: else, never trifle,
But take our lives, Duke: I must love and will,
And for that love must and dare kill this Cosen
On any peece the earth has.
THESEUS.
Will you, Arcite,
Take these conditions?
PALAMON.
He’s a villaine, then.
PERITHOUS.
These are men.
ARCITE.
No, never, Duke: Tis worse to me than begging
To take my life so basely; though I thinke
I never shall enjoy her, yet ile preserve
The honour of affection, and dye for her,
Make death a Devill.
THESEUS.
What may be done? for now I feele compassion.
PERITHOUS.
Let it not fall agen, Sir.
THESEUS.
Say, Emilia,
If one of them were dead, as one must, are you
Content to take th’other to your husband?
They cannot both enjoy you; They are Princes
As goodly as your owne eyes, and as noble
As ever fame yet spoke of; looke upon ’em,
And if you can love, end this difference.
I give consent; are you content too, Princes?
BOTH.
With all our soules.