ARCITE

So we must.

Is’t said this war’s afoot? Or it shall be

On fail of some condition?

VALERIUS

’Tis in motion,

The intelligence of state came in the instant

With the defier.

PALAMON

Let’s to the King, who, were he A quarter carrier of that honour which

His enemy come in, the blood we venture

Should be as for our health, which were not spent,

Rather laid out for purchase. But, alas,

Our hands advanced before our hearts, what will

The fall o’th’ stroke do damage?

ARCITE

Let th’event—That never-erring arbitrator—tell us

When we know all ourselves, and let us follow

The becking of our chance.

Exeunt

1.3 Enter Pirithous, Hippolyta, and Emilia

PIRITHOUS

No further.

HIPPOLYTA

Sir, farewell. Repeat my wishes To our great lord, of whose success I dare not

Make any timorous question; yet I wish him

Excess and overflow of power, an’t might be,

To dure ill-dealing fortune. Speed to him;

Store never hurts good governors.

PIRITHOUS

Though I know His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they

Must yield their tribute there. (To Emilia) My precious

maid,

Those best affections that the heavens infuse

In their best-tempered pieces keep enthroned

In your dear heart.

EMILIA

Thanks, sir. Remember me To our all-royal brother, for whose speed

The great Bellona I’ll solicit; and

Since in our terrene state petitions are not

Without gifts understood, I’ll offer to her

What I shall be advised she likes. Our hearts

Are in his army, in his tent.

HIPPOLYTA

In’s bosom.

We have been soldiers, and we cannot weep

When our friends don their helms, or put to sea,

Or tell of babes broached on the lance, or women

That have sod their infants in—and after eat them—

The brine they wept at killing ’em: then if

You stay to see of us such spinsters, we

Should hold you here forever.

PIRITHOUS

Peace be to you As I pursue this war, which shall be then

Beyond further requiring.

Exit Pirithous

EMILIA

How his longing Follows his friend! Since his depart, his sports,

Though craving seriousness and skill, passed slightly

His careless execution, where nor gain

Made him regard or loss consider, but

Playing one business in his hand, another

Directing in his head, his mind nurse equal

To these so diff’ring twins. Have you observed him

Since our great lord departed?

HIPPOLYTA

With much labour; And I did love him for’t. They two have cabined

In many as dangerous as poor a corner,

Peril and want contending; they have skiffed

Torrents whose roaring tyranny and power

I’th’ least of these was dreadful, and they have

Fought out together where death’s self was lodged;

Yet fate hath brought them off. Their knot of love,

Tied, weaved, entangled with so true, so long,

And with a finger of so deep a cunning,

May be outworn, never undone. I think

Theseus cannot be umpire to himself,

Cleaving his conscience into twain and doing

Each side like justice, which he loves best.

EMILIA

Doubtless There is a best, and reason has no manners

To say it is not you. I was acquainted

Once with a time when I enjoyed a playfellow;

You were at wars when she the grave enriched,

Who made too proud the bed; took leave o’th’

moon—

Which then looked pale at parting—when our count

Was each eleven.

HIPPOLYTA

’Twas Flavina.

EMILIA

Yes.

You talk of Pirithous’ and Theseus’ love:

Theirs has more ground, is more maturely seasoned,

More buckled with strong judgement, and their needs

The one of th‘other may be said to water

Their intertangled roots of love; but I

And she I sigh and spoke of were things innocent,

Loved for we did, and like the elements,

That know not what, nor why, yet do effect

Rare issues by their operance, our souls

Did so to one another. What she liked

Was then of me approved; what not, condemned—

No more arraignment. The flower that I would pluck

And put between my breasts—O then but beginning

To swell about the blossom—she would long

Till she had such another, and commit it

To the like innocent cradle, where, phoenix-like,

They died in perfume. On my head no toy

But was her pattern. Her affections—pretty,

Though happily her careless wear—I followed

For my most serious decking. Had mine ear

Stol’n some new air, or at adventure hummed one,

From musical coinage, why, it was a note

Whereon her spirits would sojourn—rather dwell on—

And sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsal—

Which, seely innocence wots well, comes in

Like old emportment’s bastard—has this end:

That the true love ’tween maid and maid may be