PALAMON.
You have made me
(I thanke you, Cosen Arcite) almost wanton
With my Captivity: what a misery
It is to live abroade, and every where!
Tis like a Beast, me thinkes: I finde the Court here--
I am sure, a more content; and all those pleasures
That wooe the wils of men to vanity,
I see through now, and am sufficient
To tell the world, tis but a gaudy shaddow,
That old Time, as he passes by, takes with him.
What had we bin, old in the Court of Creon,
Where sin is Iustice, lust and ignorance
The vertues of the great ones! Cosen Arcite,
Had not the loving gods found this place for us,
We had died as they doe, ill old men, unwept,
And had their Epitaphes, the peoples Curses:
Shall I say more?
ARCITE.
I would heare you still.
PALAMON.
Ye shall.
Is there record of any two that lov'd
Better then we doe, Arcite?
ARCITE.
Sure, there cannot.
PALAMON.
I doe not thinke it possible our friendship
Should ever leave us.
ARCITE.
Till our deathes it cannot;
[Enter Emilia and her woman (below).]
And after death our spirits shall be led
To those that love eternally. Speake on, Sir.
EMILIA.
This garden has a world of pleasures in't.
What Flowre is this?
WOMAN.
Tis calld Narcissus, Madam.
EMILIA.
That was a faire Boy, certaine, but a foole,
To love himselfe; were there not maides enough?
ARCITE.
Pray forward.
PALAMON.
Yes.
EMILIA.
Or were they all hard hearted?
WOMAN.
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