The Two Noble Kinsmen

Wind horns of cornets. Arcite

You hear the horns:
Enter your musite, lest this match between’s
Be cross’d ere met. Give me your hand; farewell:
I’ll bring you every needful thing: I pray you,
Take comfort, and be strong.

Palamon

Pray, hold your promise,
And do the deed with a bent brow: most certain
You love me not: be rough with me, and pour
This oil out of your language. By this air,
I could for each word give a cuff; my stomach
Not reconcil’d by reason.

Arcite

Plainly spoken!
Yet pardon me hard language: when I spur
My horse, I chide him not; content and anger
In me have but one face. Wind horns. Hark, sir! they call
The scatter’d to the banquet: you must guess
I have an office there.

Palamon

Sir, your attendance
Cannot please heaven; and I know your office
Unjustly is achiev’d.

Arcite

I’ve a good title,
I am persuaded: this question sick between’s,
My bleeding must be cur’d. I am a suitor
That to your sword you will bequeath this plea,
And talk of it no more.

Palamon

But this one word:
You’re going now to gaze upon my mistress;
For note you, mine she is⁠—

Arcite Nay, then⁠— Palamon

Nay, pray you⁠—
You talk of feeding me to breed me strength;
You’re going now to look upon a sun
That strengthens what it looks on; there you have
A vantage o’er me: but enjoy it till
I may enforce my remedy. Farewell. Exeunt severally.

Scene II

Another part of the forest.

Enter Gaoler’s Daughter.

Daughter

He has mistook the brake I meant; is gone After his fancy. ’Tis now well-nigh morning; No matter: would it were perpetual night, And darkeness lord o’ the world!⁠—Hark! ’tis a wolf: In me hath grief slain fear, and, but for one thing, I care for nothing, and that’s Palamon: I reck not if the wolves would jaw me, so He had this file. What if I holla’d for him? I cannot holla: if I whooped, what then? If he not answer’d, I should call a wolf, And do him but that service. I have heard Strange howls this live-long night: why may’t not be They have made prey of him? he has no weapons; He cannot run; the jingling of his gyves Might call fell things to listen, who have in them A sense to know a man unarm’d, and can Smell where resistance is. I’ll set it down He’s torn to pieces; they howl’d many together, And then they fed on him: so much for that! Be bold to ring the bell; how stand I, then? All’s charr’d when he is gone. No, no, I lie; My father’s to be hang’d for his escape; Myself to beg, if I priz’d life so much As to deny my act; but that I would not, Should I try death by dozens.⁠—I am mop’d: Food took I none these two days⁠— Sipp’d some water; I’ve not clos’d mine eyes, Save when my lids scour’d 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 warp’d!⁠—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 screeching 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.

Scene III

The same part of the forest as in scene I.

	Enter Arcite, with meat, wine, files, etc.
Arcite	I should be near the place.⁠—Hoa, Cousin Palamon!
	Enter Palamon.
Palamon	Arcite?
Arcite	The same: I’ve 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’re 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! Drinks.
Palamon	Do.
Arcite	Pray, sit down, then; and let me entreat you, By all the honesty and honour in you, No mention of this woman! ’twill disturb us; We shall have time enough.
Palamon	Well, sir, I’ll pledge you. 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.
Arcite	Spare it not; The duke has more, coz. Eat now.
Palamon	Yes. Eats.
Arcite	I’m 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’ve known in our days! The lord-steward’s daughter; Do you remember her?
Arcite	After you, coz.
Palamon	She lov’d a black-hair’d man.
Arcite	She did so: well, sir?
Palamon	And I have heard some call him Arcite; and⁠—
Arcite	Out with it, faith!
Palamon	She met him in an arbour: What did she there, coz? play o’ the 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.
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 strain’d mirth! I say again, That sigh was breath’d for Emily: base cousin, Dar’st thou break first?
Arcite	You’re 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	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?