The Two Noble Kinsmen - BestLightNovel.com
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My Caske now.
ARCITE.
Will you fight bare-armd?
PALAMON.
We shall be the nimbler.
ARCITE.
But use your Gauntlets though; those are o'th least, Prethee take mine, good Cosen.
PALAMON.
Thanke you, Arcite.
How doe I looke? am I falne much away?
ARCITE.
Faith, very little; love has usd you kindly.
PALAMON.
Ile warrant thee, Ile strike home.
ARCITE.
Doe, and spare not; Ile give you cause, sweet Cosen.
PALAMON.
Now to you, Sir: Me thinkes this Armor's very like that, Arcite, Thou wor'st the day the 3. Kings fell, but lighter.
ARCITE.
That was a very good one; and that day, I well remember, you outdid me, Cosen.
I never saw such valour: when you chargd Vpon the left wing of the Enemie, I spurd hard to come up, and under me I had a right good horse.
PALAMON.
You had indeede; a bright Bay, I remember.
ARCITE.
Yes, but all Was vainely labour'd in me; you outwent me, Nor could my wishes reach you; yet a little I did by imitation.
PALAMON.
More by vertue; You are modest, Cosen.
ARCITE.
When I saw you charge first, Me thought I heard a dreadfull clap of Thunder Breake from the Troope.
PALAMON.
But still before that flew The lightning of your valour. Stay a little, Is not this peece too streight?
ARCITE.
No, no, tis well.
PALAMON.
I would have nothing hurt thee but my Sword, A bruise would be dishonour.
ARCITE.
Now I am perfect.
PALAMON.
Stand off, then.
ARCITE.
Take my Sword, I hold it better.
PALAMON.
I thanke ye: No, keepe it; your life lyes on it.
Here's one; if it but hold, I aske no more For all my hopes: My Cause and honour guard me! [They bow severall wayes: then advance and stand.]
ARCITE.
And me my love! Is there ought else to say?
PALAMON.
This onely, and no more: Thou art mine Aunts Son, And that blood we desire to shed is mutuall; In me, thine, and in thee, mine. My Sword Is in my hand, and if thou killst me, The G.o.ds and I forgive thee; If there be A place prepar'd for those that sleepe in honour, I wish his wearie soule that falls may win it: Fight bravely, Cosen; give me thy n.o.ble hand.
ARCITE.
Here, Palamon: This hand shall never more Come neare thee with such friends.h.i.+p.
PALAMON.
I commend thee.
