ARCITE.
Kinsman, you might as well
Speak this and act it in your glass as to
His ear which now disdains you.
PALAMON.
Come up to me;
Quit me of these cold gyves, give me a sword
Though it be rusty, and the charity
Of one meal lend me. Come before me then,
A good sword in thy hand, and do but say
That Emily is thine, I will forgive
The trespass thou hast done me, yea, my life,
If then thou carry ’t; and brave souls in shades
That have died manly, which will seek of me
Some news from earth, they shall get none but this:
That thou art brave and noble.
ARCITE.
Be content.
Again betake you to your hawthorn house.
With counsel of the night, I will be here
With wholesome viands. These impediments
Will I file off; you shall have garments and
Perfumes to kill the smell o’ th’ prison. After,
When you shall stretch yourself and say but “Arcite,
I am in plight,” there shall be at your choice
Both sword and armour.
PALAMON.
Oh you heavens, dares any
So noble bear a guilty business? None
But only Arcite, therefore none but Arcite
In this kind is so bold.
ARCITE.
Sweet Palamon.
PALAMON.
I do embrace you and your offer; for
Your offer do ’t I only, sir; your person,
Without hypocrisy I may not wish
More than my sword’s edge on ’t.
[Wind horns of cornets.]
ARCITE.
You hear the horns.
Enter your musit, lest this match between ’s
Be crossed ere met. Give me your hand; farewell.
I’ll bring you every needful thing. I pray you,
Take comfort and be strong.
PALAMON.
Pray hold your promise,
And do the deed with a bent brow. Most certain
You love me not; be rough with me, and pour
This oil out of your language. By this air,
I could for each word give a cuff, my stomach
Not reconciled by reason.
ARCITE.
Plainly spoken.
Yet pardon me hard language. When I spur
My horse, I chide him not; content and anger
In me have but one face.