PALAMON.
Hold thy word, Theseus.
We are certainly both traitors, both despisers
Of thee and of thy goodness. I am Palamon,
That cannot love thee, he that broke thy prison.
Think well what that deserves. And this is Arcite.
A bolder traitor never trod thy ground,
A falser ne’er seemed friend. This is the man
Was begged and banished; this is he contemns thee
And what thou dar’st do; and in this disguise,
Against thine own edict, follows thy sister,
That fortunate bright star, the fair Emilia,
Whose servant—if there be a right in seeing
And first bequeathing of the soul to—justly
I am; and, which is more, dares think her his.
This treachery, like a most trusty lover,
I called him now to answer. If thou be’st
As thou art spoken, great and virtuous,
The true decider of all injuries,
Say “Fight again,” and thou shalt see me, Theseus,
Do such a justice thou thyself wilt envy.
Then take my life; I’ll woo thee to ’t.
PIRITHOUS.
O heaven,
What more than man is this!
THESEUS.
I have sworn.
ARCITE.
We seek not
Thy breath of mercy, Theseus. ’Tis to me
A thing as soon to die as thee to say it,
And no more moved. Where this man calls me traitor,
Let me say thus much: if in love be treason,
In service of so excellent a beauty,
As I love most, and in that faith will perish,
As I have brought my life here to confirm it,
As I have served her truest, worthiest,
As I dare kill this cousin that denies it,
So let me be most traitor, and you please me.
For scorning thy edict, Duke, ask that lady
Why she is fair, and why her eyes command me
Stay here to love her; and if she say “traitor,”
I am a villain fit to lie unburied.
PALAMON.
Thou shalt have pity of us both, O Theseus,
If unto neither thou show mercy. Stop,
As thou art just, thy noble ear against us;
As thou art valiant, for thy cousin’s soul,
Whose twelve strong labours crown his memory,
Let’s die together at one instant, Duke;
Only a little let him fall before me,
That I may tell my soul he shall not have her.
THESEUS.
I grant your wish, for, to say true, your cousin
Has ten times more offended, for I gave him
More mercy than you found, sir, your offences
Being no more than his. None here speak for ’em,
For, ere the sun set, both shall sleep for ever.
HIPPOLYTA.
Alas the pity! Now or never, sister,
Speak, not to be denied. That face of yours
Will bear the curses else of after ages
For these lost cousins.
EMILIA.
In my face, dear sister,
I find no anger to ’em, nor no ruin;
The misadventure of their own eyes kill ’em.
Yet that I will be woman and have pity,
My knees shall grow to’ th’ ground but I’ll get mercy.
[She kneels.]
Help me, dear sister; in a deed so virtuous
The powers of all women will be with us.
Most royal brother—