William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Thou art wanton.

ARCITE.

She is wondrous faire.

PALAMON.

She is beauty extant.

EMILIA.

The Sun grows high, lets walk in: keep these flowers;

Weele see how neere Art can come neere their colours.

I am wondrous merry hearted, I could laugh now.

WOMAN.

I could lie downe, I am sure.

EMILIA.

And take one with you?

WOMAN.

That’s as we bargaine, Madam.

EMILIA.

Well, agree then. [Exeunt Emilia and woman.]

PALAMON.

What thinke you of this beauty?

ARCITE.

Tis a rare one.

PALAMON.

Is’t but a rare one?

ARCITE.

Yes, a matchles beauty.

PALAMON.

Might not a man well lose himselfe and love her?

ARCITE.

I cannot tell what you have done, I have;

Beshrew mine eyes for’t: now I feele my Shackles.

PALAMON.

You love her, then?

ARCITE.

Who would not?

PALAMON.

And desire her?

ARCITE.

Before my liberty.

PALAMON.

I saw her first.

ARCITE.

That’s nothing.

PALAMON.

But it shall be.

ARCITE.

I saw her too.

PALAMON.

Yes, but you must not love her.

ARCITE.

I will not as you doe, to worship her,

As she is heavenly, and a blessed Goddes;

I love her as a woman, to enjoy her:

So both may love.

PALAMON.

You shall not love at all.

ARCITE.

Not love at all!

Who shall deny me?

PALAMON.

I, that first saw her; I, that tooke possession

First with mine eyes of all those beauties

In her reveald to mankinde: if thou lou’st her,

Or entertain’st a hope to blast my wishes,

Thou art a Traytour, Arcite, and a fellow

False as thy Title to her: friendship, blood,

And all the tyes betweene us I disclaime,

If thou once thinke upon her.

ARCITE.

Yes, I love her,

And if the lives of all my name lay on it,

I must doe so; I love her with my soule:

If that will lose ye, farewell, Palamon;

I say againe, I love, and in loving her maintaine

I am as worthy and as free a lover,

And have as just a title to her beauty

As any Palamon or any living

That is a mans Sonne.

PALAMON.

Have I cald thee friend?

ARCITE.

Yes, and have found me so; why are you mov’d thus?

Let me deale coldly with you: am not I

Part of your blood, part of your soule? you have told me

That I was Palamon, and you were Arcite.

PALAMON.

Yes.

ARCITE.

Am not I liable to those affections,

Those joyes, greifes, angers, feares, my friend shall suffer?

PALAMON.

Ye may be.

ARCITE.

Why, then, would you deale so cunningly,

So strangely, so vnlike a noble kinesman,

To love alone? speake truely: doe you thinke me

Vnworthy of her sight?

PALAMON.

No; but unjust,

If thou pursue that sight.

ARCITE.

Because an other

First sees the Enemy, shall I stand still

And let mine honour downe, and never charge?

PALAMON.

Yes, if he be but one.

ARCITE.

But say that one

Had rather combat me?

PALAMON.

Let that one say so,

And use thy freedome; els if thou pursuest her,

Be as that cursed man that hates his Country,

A branded villaine.

ARCITE.

You are mad.

PALAMON.

I must be,

Till thou art worthy, Arcite; it concernes me,

And in this madnes, if I hazard thee

And take thy life, I deale but truely.

ARCITE.

Fie, Sir,

You play the Childe extreamely: I will love her,

I must, I ought to doe so, and I dare;

And all this justly.

PALAMON.

O that now, that now

Thy false-selfe and thy friend had but this fortune,

To be one howre at liberty, and graspe

Our good Swords in our hands! I would quickly teach thee

What ‘twer to filch affection from another:

Thou art baser in it then a Cutpurse;

Put but thy head out of this window more,

And as I have a soule, Ile naile thy life too’t.

ARCITE.

Thou dar’st not, foole, thou canst not, thou art feeble.

Put my head out? Ile throw my Body out,

And leape the garden, when I see her next

[Enter Keeper.]

And pitch between her armes to anger thee.

PALAMON.

No more; the keeper’s comming; I shall live

To knocke thy braines out with my Shackles.

ARCITE.

Doe.

KEEPER.

By your leave, Gentlemen—

PALAMON.

Now, honest keeper?

KEEPER.

Lord Arcite, you must presently to’th Duke;

The cause I know not yet.

ARCITE.

I am ready, keeper.

KEEPER.

Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you

Of your faire Cosens Company. [Exeunt Arcite, and Keeper.]

PALAMON.

And me too,

Even when you please, of life. Why is he sent for?

It may be he shall marry her; he’s goodly,

And like enough the Duke hath taken notice

Both of his blood and body: But his falsehood!

Why should a friend be treacherous? If that

Get him a wife so noble, and so faire,

Let honest men ne’re love againe. Once more

I would but see this faire One. Blessed Garden,

And fruite, and flowers more blessed, that still blossom

As her bright eies shine on ye! would I were,

For all the fortune of my life hereafter,

Yon little Tree, yon blooming Apricocke;

How I would spread, and fling my wanton armes

In at her window; I would bring her fruite

Fit for the Gods to feed on: youth and pleasure

Still as she tasted should be doubled on her,

And if she be not heavenly, I would make her

So neere the Gods in nature, they should feare her,

[Enter Keeper.]

And then I am sure she would love me. How now, keeper.

Wher’s Arcite?

KEEPER.

Banishd: Prince Pirithous

Obtained his liberty; but never more

Vpon his oth and life must he set foote

Vpon this Kingdome.

PALAMON.

Hees a blessed man!

He shall see Thebs againe, and call to Armes

The bold yong men, that, when he bids ‘em charge,

Fall on like fire: Arcite shall have a Fortune,

If he dare make himselfe a worthy Lover,

Yet in the Feild to strike a battle for her;

And if he lose her then, he’s a cold Coward;

How bravely may he beare himselfe to win her

If he be noble Arcite—thousand waies.

Were I at liberty, I would doe things

Of such a vertuous greatnes, that this Lady,

This blushing virgine, should take manhood to her

And seeke to ravish me.

KEEPER.

My Lord for you

I have this charge too—

PALAMON.

To discharge my life?

KEEPER.

No, but from this place to remoove your Lordship:

The windowes are too open.

PALAMON.

Devils take ‘em,

That are so envious to me! pre’thee kill me.

KEEPER.

And hang for’t afterward.

PALAMON.

By this good light,

Had I a sword I would kill thee.

KEEPER.

Why, my Lord?

PALAMON.

Thou bringst such pelting scuruy news continually

Thou art not worthy life. I will not goe.

KEEPER.

Indeede, you must, my Lord.

PALAMON.

May I see the garden?

KEEPER.

Noe.

PALAMON.

Then I am resolud, I will not goe.

KEEPER.

I must constraine you then: and for you are dangerous,

Ile clap more yrons on you.

PALAMON.

Doe, good keeper.

Ile shake ‘em so, ye shall not sleepe;

Ile make ye a new Morrisse: must I goe?

KEEPER.

There is no remedy.

PALAMON.

Farewell, kinde window.

May rude winde never hurt thee. O, my Lady,

If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was,