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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,

      

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