THESEUS.
What country bred you?
ARCITE.
This; but far off, Prince.
THESEUS.
Are you a gentleman?
ARCITE.
My father said so;
And to those gentle uses gave me life.
THESEUS.
Are you his heir?
ARCITE.
His youngest, sir.
THESEUS.
Your father
Sure is a happy sire then. What profess you?
ARCITE.
A little of all noble qualities.
I could have kept a hawk and well have hallowed
To a deep cry of dogs. I dare not praise
My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me
Would say it was my best piece; last, and greatest,
I would be thought a soldier.
THESEUS.
You are perfect.
PIRITHOUS.
Upon my soul, a proper man.