ARCITE

And me, my love.

They bow several ways, then advance and stand

Is there aught else to say?

PALAMON

This only, and no more. Thou art mine aunt’s son,

And that blood we desire to shed is mutual:

In me, thine, and in thee, mine. My sword

Is in my hand, and if thou kill’st me,

The gods and I forgive thee. If there be

A place prepared for those that sleep in honour,

I wish his weary soul that falls may win it.

Fight bravely, cousin. Give me thy noble hand.

ARCITE

Here, Palamon. This hand shall never more

Come near thee with such friendship.

PALAMON

I commend thee.

ARCITE

If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward—

For none but such dare die in these just trials.

Once more farewell, my cousin.

PALAMON

Farewell, Arcite.

Fight. Horns within; they stand

ARCITE

Lo, cousin, lo, our folly has undone us.

PALAMON

Why?

ARCITE

This is the Duke a-hunting, as I told you.

If we be found, we are wretched. O, retire,

For honour’s sake, and safely, presently,

Into your bush again. Sir, we shall find

Too many hours to die. In, gentle cousin—

If you be seen, you perish instantly

For breaking prison, and I, if you reveal me,

For my contempt. Then all the world will scorn us,

And say we had a noble difference,

But base disposers of it.

PALAMON

No, no, cousin,

I will no more be hidden, nor put off

This great adventure to a second trial.

I know your cunning and I know your cause—

He that faints now, shame take him! Put thyself

Upon thy present guard—

ARCITE

You are not mad?

PALAMON

Or I will make th’advantage of this hour

Mine own, and what to come shall threaten me

I fear less than my fortune. Know, weak cousin,

I love Emilia, and in that I’ll bury

Thee and all crosses else.

ARCITE

Then come what can come,

Thou shalt know, Palamon, I dare as well

Die as discourse or sleep. Only this fears me,

The law will have the honour of our ends.

Have at thy life!

PALAMON

Look to thine own well, Arcite!

They fight again.

Horns. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous, and train. ⌈Theseus⌉ separates Palamon and Arcite

THESEUS

What ignorant and mad malicious traitors

Are you, that ’gainst the tenor of my laws

Are making battle, thus like knights appointed,

Without my leave and officers of arms?

By Castor, both shall die.

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 ye 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.