ARCITE.
A pretty brown wench ’tis. There was a time
When young men went a-hunting, and a wood,
And a broad beech; and thereby hangs a tale.
Heigh ho!
PALAMON.
For Emily, upon my life! Fool,
Away with this strained mirth! I say again
That sigh was breathed for Emily. Base cousin,
Dar’st thou break first?
ARCITE.
You are wide.
PALAMON.
By heaven and earth,
There’s nothing in thee honest.
ARCITE.
Then I’ll leave you.
You are a beast now.
PALAMON.
As thou mak’st me, traitor.
ARCITE.
There’s all things needful: files and shirts and perfumes.
I’ll come again some two hours hence, and bring
That that shall quiet all.
PALAMON.
A sword and armour?
ARCITE.
Fear me not. You are now too foul. Farewell.
Get off your trinkets; you shall want naught.
PALAMON.
Sirrah—