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 friendship.

PALAMON.

I commend thee.