ARCITE.
That too much, fair cousin,
Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.
PALAMON.
Would you were so in all, sir; I could wish ye
As kind a kinsman as you force me find
A beneficial foe, that my embraces
Might thank ye, not my blows.
ARCITE.
I shall think either,
Well done, a noble recompence.
PALAMON.
Then I shall quit you.
ARCITE.
Defy me in these fair terms, and you show
More than a mistress to me. No more anger,
As you love anything that’s honourable!
We were not bred to talk, man; when we are armed
And both upon our guards, then let our fury,
Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us;
And then to whom the birthright of this beauty
Truly pertains—without upbraidings, scorns,
Despisings of our persons, and such poutings,
Fitter for girls and schoolboys—will be seen,
And quickly, yours or mine. Will ’t please you arm, sir?
Or, if you feel yourself not fitting yet
And furnished with your old strength, I’ll stay, cousin,
And every day discourse you into health,
As I am spared. Your person I am friends with,
And I could wish I had not said I loved her,
Though I had died; but, loving such a lady,
And justifying my love, I must not fly from ’t.
PALAMON.
Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy,
That no man but thy cousin’s fit to kill thee.
I am well and lusty; choose your arms.
ARCITE.
Choose you, sir.
PALAMON.
Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost thou do it
To make me spare thee?
ARCITE.
If you think so, cousin,
You are deceived, for as I am a soldier,
I will not spare you.
PALAMON.
That’s well said.