He’s neither man nor soldier. When he left me,
I did not think a week could have restored
My lost strength to me, I was grown so low
And crest-fall’n with my wants. I thank thee, Arcite,
Thou art yet a fair foe, and I feel myself,
With this refreshing, able once again
To out-dure danger. To delay it longer
Would make the world think, when it comes to
hearing,
That I lay fatting, like a swine, to fight,
And not a soldier. Therefore this blest morning
Shall be the last; and that sword he refuses,
If it but hold, I kill him with; ’tis justice.
So, love and fortune for me!
Enter Arcite with two armours and two swords
O, good morrow.
ARCITE
Good morrow, noble kinsman.
PALAMON
I have put you
To too much pains, sir.
ARCITE
That too much, fair cousin,
Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.
PALAMON
Would you were so in all, sir—I could wish ye
As kind a kinsman, as you force me find
A beneficial foe, that my embraces
Might thank ye, not my blows.
ARCITE
I shall think either,
Well done, a noble recompense.
PALAMON
Then I shall quit you.
ARCITE
Defy me in these fair terms, and you show
More than a mistress to me—no more anger,
As you love anything that’s honourable.
We were not bred to talk, man. When we are armed
And both upon our guards, then let our fury,
Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us;
And then to whom the birthright of this beauty
Truly pertains—without upbraidings, scorns,
Despisings of our persons, and such poutings
Fitter for girls and schoolboys—will be seen,
And quickly, yours or mine. Will’t please you arm,
sir?
Or, if you feel yourself not fitting yet,
And furnished with your old strength, I’ll stay,
cousin,
And every day discourse you into health,
As I am spared. Your person I am friends with,
And I could wish I had not said I loved her,
Though I had died; but loving such a lady,
And justifying my love, I must not fly from’t.
PALAMON
Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy
That no man but thy cousin’s fit to kill thee.
I am well and lusty—choose your arms.
ARCITE Choose you, sir.
PALAMON
Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost thou do it
To make me spare thee?
ARCITE
If you think so, cousin,
You are deceived, for as I am a soldier,
I will not spare you.
PALAMON
That’s well said.
ARCITE
You’ll find it.
PALAMON
Then as I am an honest man, and love
With all the justice of affection,
I’ll pay thee soundly.
He chooses one armour
This I’ll take.
ARCITE (indicating the remaining armour)
That’s mine, then.
I’ll arm you first.
PALAMON
Do.
Arcite arms Palamon
Pray thee tell me, cousin,
Where gott’st thou this good armour?
ARCITE
‘Tis the Duke’s,
And to say true, I stole it. Do I pinch you?
PALAMON
No.
ARCITE
Is’t not too heavy?
PALAMON
I have worn a lighter—
But I shall make it serve.
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.
ARCITE
But use your gauntlets, though—those are o’th’ least.
Prithee take mine, good cousin.
PALAMON
Thank you, Arcite.
How do I look? Am I fall’n much away?
ARCITE
Faith, very little—love has used you kindly.
PALAMON
I’ll warrant thee, I’ll strike home.
ARCITE
Do, and spare not—
I’ll give you cause, sweet cousin.
PALAMON Now to you, sir.
Palamon arms Arcite
Methinks this armour’s very like that, Arcite,
Thou wor’st that day the three kings fell, but lighter.
ARCITE
That was a very good one, and that day,
I well remember, you outdid me, cousin.
I never saw such valour. When you charged
Upon the left wing of the enemy,
I spurred hard to come up, and under me
I had a right good horse.
PALAMON
You had indeed—
A bright bay, I remember.
ARCITE
Yes. But all
Was vainly laboured in me—you outwent me,
Nor could my wishes reach you. Yet a little
I did by imitation.
PALAMON
More by virtue—
You are modest, cousin.
ARCITE
When I saw you charge first,
Methought I heard a dreadful clap of thunder
Break from the troop.
PALAMON
But still before that flew
The lightning of your valour. Stay a little,
Is not this piece too strait?
ARCITE
No, no, ’tis well.
PALAMON
I would have nothing hurt thee but my sword—
A bruise would be dishonour.
ARCITE
Now I am perfect.
PALAMON
Stand off, then.
ARCITE
Take my sword; I hold it better.
PALAMON
I thank ye. No, keep it—your life lies on it.
Here’s one—if it but hold, I ask no more
For all my hopes. My cause and honour guard me.