ARCITE.
I’ll buckle ’t close.
PALAMON.
By any means.
ARCITE.
You care not for a grand guard?
PALAMON.
No, no; we’ll use no horses: I perceive
You would fain be at that fight.
ARCITE.
I am indifferent.
PALAMON.
Faith, so am I. Good cousin, thrust the buckle
Through far enough.
ARCITE.
I warrant you.
PALAMON.
My casque now.
ARCITE.
Will you fight bare-armed?
PALAMON.
We shall be the nimbler.