Might call fell things to listen, who have in them

A sense to know a man unarmed, and can

Smell where resistance is. I’ll set it down

He’s torn to pieces: they howled many together

And then they fed on him. So much for that.

Be bold to ring the bell. How stand I then?

All’s chared when he is gone. No, no, I lie:

My father’s to be hanged for his escape,

Myself to beg, if I prized life so much

As to deny my act—but that I would not,

Should I try death by dozens. I am moped—

Food took I none these two days,

Sipped some water. I have not closed mine eyes

Save when my lids scoured off their brine. Alas,

Dissolve, my life; let not my sense unsettle,

Lest I should drown or stab or hang myself.

O state of nature, fail together in me,

Since thy best props are warped. So which way now?

The best way is the next way to a grave,

Each errant step beside is torment. Lo,

The moon is down, the crickets chirp, the screech-owl

Calls in the dawn. All offices are done

Save what I fail in: but the point is this,

An end, and that is all.

Exit

3.3 Enter Arcite with a bundle containing meat, wine, and files

ARCITE

I should be near the place. Ho, cousin Patamon!

Enter Palamon ⌈as from the bush⌉

PALAMON

Arcite.

ARCITE

The same. I have brought you food and files. Come forth and fear not, here’s no Theseus.

PALAMON

Nor none so honest, Arcite.

ARCITE

That’s no matter—We’ll argue that hereafter. Come, take courage—

You shall not die thus beastly. Here, sir, drink;

I know you are faint. Then I’ll talk further with you.

PALAMON

Arcite, thou mightst now poison me.

ARCITE

I might—But I must fear you first. Sit down and, good now,

No more of these vain parleys. Let us not,

Having our ancient reputation with us,

Make talk for fools and cowards. To your health, sir.

PALAMON

Do.

⌈Arcite drinks⌉

ARCITE Pray sit down, then, and let me entreat you, By all the honesty and honour in you, No mention of this woman—’twilt disturb us. We shall have time enough.

PALAMON

Well, sir, I’ll pledge you.

Palamon drinks

ARCITE

Drink a good hearty draught; it breeds good blood,

man.

Do not you feel it thaw you?

PALAMON

Stay, I’ll tell you

After a draught or two more.

Palamon drinks

ARCITE

Spare it not—

The Duke has more, coz. Eat now.

PALAMON

Yes.

Palamon eats

ARCITE

I am glad

You have so good a stomach.

PALAMON

I am gladder

I have so good meat to’t.

ARCITE

Is’t not mad, lodging Here in the wild woods, cousin?

PALAMON

Yes, for them

That have wild consciences.

ARCITE

How tastes your victuals?

Your hunger needs no sauce, I see.

PALAMON

Not much.

But if it did, yours is too tart, sweet cousin.

What is this?

ARCITE Venison.

PALAMON

’Tis a lusty meat—

Give me more wine. Here, Arcite, to the wenches

We have known in our days. ⌈Drinking⌉ The lord

steward’s daughter.

Do you remember her?

ARCITE

After you, coz.

PALAMON

She loved a black-haired man.

ARCITE

She did so; well, sir.

PALAMON

And I have heard some call him Arcite, and—

ARCITE

Out with’t, faith.

PALAMON

She met him in an arbour—

What did she there, coz? Play o’th’ virginals?

ARCITE

Something she did, sir—

PALAMON

Made her groan a month for’t—

Or two, or three, or ten.

ARCITE

The marshal’s sister Had her share too, as I remember, cousin,

Else there be tales abroad. You’ll pledge her?

PALAMON Yes.

⌈They drink⌉

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 (pointing to the bundle)

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—

ARCITE

I’ll hear no more.

Exit

PALAMON

If he keep touch, he dies for’t.

Exit ⌈as into the bush⌉

3.4 Enter the Jailer’s Daughter

JAILER’S DAUGHTER

I am very cold, and all the stars are out too,

The little stars and all, that look like agtets—

The sun has seen my folly. Palamon!

Alas, no, he’s in heaven. Where am I now?

Yonder’s the sea and there’s a ship—how’t tumbles!

And there’s a rock lies watching under water—

Now, now, it beats upon it—now, now, now,

There’s a leak sprung, a sound one—how they cry!

Open her before the wind—you’ll lose all else.