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.