Cornets in sundry places. Noise and hallowing as people a-Maying. Enter Arcite alone.
ARCITE.
The Duke has lost Hippolyta; each took
A several land. This is a solemn rite
They owe bloomed May, and the Athenians pay it
To th’ heart of ceremony. O Queen Emilia,
Fresher than May, sweeter
Than her gold buttons on the boughs, or all
Th’ enameled knacks o’ th’ mead or garden—yea,
We challenge too the bank of any nymph
That makes the stream seem flowers; thou, O jewel
O’ th’ wood, o’ th’ world, hast likewise blessed a pace
With thy sole presence. In thy rumination
That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between
And chop on some cold thought! Thrice blessed chance
To drop on such a mistress, expectation
Most guiltless on ’t. Tell me, O Lady Fortune,
Next after Emily my sovereign, how far
I may be proud. She takes strong note of me,
Hath made me near her, and this beauteous morn,
The prim’st of all the year, presents me with
A brace of horses; two such steeds might well
Be by a pair of kings backed, in a field
That their crowns’ titles tried. Alas, alas,
Poor cousin Palamon, poor prisoner, thou
So little dream’st upon my fortune that
Thou think’st thyself the happier thing, to be
So near Emilia; me thou deem’st at Thebes,
And therein wretched, although free. But if
Thou knew’st my mistress breathed on me, and that
I eared her language, lived in her eye, O coz,
What passion would enclose thee!
Enter Palamon as out of a bush, with his shackles; he bends his fist at Arcite.
PALAMON.
Traitor kinsman,
Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signs
Of prisonment were off me, and this hand
But owner of a sword. By all oaths in one,
I and the justice of my love would make thee
A confessed traitor! O thou most perfidious
That ever gently looked, the void’st of honour
That e’er bore gentle token, falsest cousin
That ever blood made kin! Call’st thou her thine?
I’ll prove it in my shackles, with these hands,
Void of appointment, that thou liest, and art
A very thief in love, a chaffy lord,
Nor worth the name of villain. Had I a sword,
And these house-clogs away—
ARCITE.
Dear cousin Palamon—
PALAMON.
Cozener Arcite, give me language such
As thou hast showed me feat.
ARCITE.
Not finding in
The circuit of my breast any gross stuff
To form me like your blazon holds me to
This gentleness of answer. ’Tis your passion
That thus mistakes, the which, to you being enemy,
Cannot to me be kind. Honour and honesty
I cherish and depend on, howsoe’er
You skip them in me, and with them, fair coz,
I’ll maintain my proceedings. Pray be pleased
To show in generous terms your griefs, since that
Your question’s with your equal, who professes
To clear his own way with the mind and sword
Of a true gentleman.
PALAMON.
That thou durst, Arcite!
ARCITE.
My coz, my coz, you have been well advertised
How much I dare; you’ve seen me use my sword
Against th’ advice of fear. Sure, of another
You would not hear me doubted, but your silence
Should break out, though i’ th’ sanctuary.
PALAMON.
Sir,
I have seen you move in such a place, which well
Might justify your manhood; you were called
A good knight and a bold. But the whole week’s not fair
If any day it rain. Their valiant temper
Men lose when they incline to treachery;
And then they fight like compelled bears, would fly
Were they not tied.