But in my heart was Palamon, and there,
Lord, what a coyle he keepes! To heare him
Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is!
And yet his Songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken
Was never Gentleman. When I come in
To bring him water in a morning, first
He bowes his noble body, then salutes me, thus:
'Faire, gentle Mayde, good morrow; may thy goodnes
Get thee a happy husband.' Once he kist me.
I lov'd my lips the better ten daies after.
Would he would doe so ev'ry day! He greives much,
And me as much to see his misery.
What should I doe, to make him know I love him?
For I would faine enjoy him. Say I ventur'd
To set him free? what saies the law then? Thus much
For Law, or kindred! I will doe it,
And this night, or to morrow, he shall love me. [Exit.]
Scaena 5. (An open place in Athens.)
[Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Emilia: Arcite with a
Garland, &c.]
[This short florish of Cornets and Showtes within.]
THESEUS.
You have done worthily; I have not seene,
Since Hercules, a man of tougher synewes;
What ere you are, you run the best, and wrastle,
That these times can allow.
ARCITE.
I am proud to please you.
THESEUS.
What Countrie bred you?
ARCITE.
This; but far off, Prince.
THESEUS.
Are you a Gentleman?
ARCITE.
My father said so;
And to those gentle uses gave me life.
THESEUS.
Are you his heire?
ARCITE.
His yongest, Sir.
THESEUS.
Your Father
Sure is a happy Sire then: what prooves you?
ARCITE.
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