The Two Noble Kinsmen | Page 9

proud of 'em;
and
they have all the world in their Chamber.
IAILOR.
They are fam'd to be a paire of absolute men.
DAUGHTER.
By my troth, I think Fame but stammers 'em; they stand a greise above
the reach of report.

IAILOR.
I heard them reported in the Battaile to be the only doers.
DAUGHTER.
Nay, most likely, for they are noble suffrers; I mervaile how they

would have lookd had they beene Victors, that with such a
constant

Nobility enforce a freedome out of Bondage, making misery their
Mirth,
and affliction a toy to jest at.
IAILOR.
Doe they so?
DAUGHTER.
It seemes to me they have no more sence of their Captivity, then I
of
ruling Athens: they eate well, looke merrily, discourse of many
things,
but nothing of their owne restraint, and disasters: yet sometime a
devided sigh, martyrd as 'twer i'th deliverance, will breake from one of
them; when the other presently gives it so sweete
a rebuke, that I
could wish my selfe a Sigh to be so chid, or at least a Sigher to be
comforted.
WOOER.
I never saw 'em.
IAILOR.
The Duke himselfe came privately in the night,
[Enter Palamon, and Arcite, above.]
and so did they: what the reason of it is, I know not: Looke, yonder

they are! that's Arcite lookes out.

DAUGHTER.
No, Sir, no, that's Palamon: Arcite is the lower of the twaine; you

may perceive a part of him.
IAILOR.
Goe too, leave your pointing; they would not make us their
object;

out of their sight.
DAUGHTER.
It is a holliday to looke on them: Lord, the diffrence of men! [Exeunt.]
Scaena 2. (The prison)
[Enter Palamon, and Arcite in prison.]
PALAMON.
How doe you, Noble Cosen?
ARCITE.
How doe you, Sir?
PALAMON.
Why strong inough to laugh at misery,
And beare the chance of warre,
yet we are prisoners,
I feare, for ever, Cosen.
ARCITE.
I beleeve it,
And to that destiny have patiently
Laide up my houre
to come.
PALAMON.
O Cosen Arcite,
Where is Thebs now? where is our noble Country?


Where are our friends, and kindreds? never more
Must we behold
those comforts, never see
The hardy youthes strive for the Games of
honour
(Hung with the painted favours of their Ladies,
Like tall
Ships under saile) then start among'st 'em
And as an Eastwind leave
'en all behinde us,
Like lazy Clowdes, whilst Palamon and Arcite,

Even in the wagging of a wanton leg
Out-stript the peoples praises,
won the Garlands,
Ere they have time to wish 'em ours. O never

Shall we two exercise, like Twyns of honour,
Our Armes againe, and
feele our fyry horses
Like proud Seas under us: our good Swords now

(Better the red-eyd god of war nev'r wore)
Ravishd our sides, like
age must run to rust,
And decke the Temples of those gods that hate
us:
These hands shall never draw'em out like lightning,
To blast
whole Armies more.
ARCITE.
No, Palamon,
Those hopes are Prisoners with us; here we are
And
here the graces of our youthes must wither
Like a too-timely Spring;
here age must finde us,
And, which is heaviest, Palamon, unmarried;

The sweete embraces of a loving wife,
Loden with kisses, armd
with thousand Cupids
Shall never claspe our neckes, no issue know
us,
No figures of our selves shall we ev'r see,
To glad our age, and
like young Eagles teach 'em
Boldly to gaze against bright armes, and
say:
'Remember what your fathers were, and conquer.'
The
faire-eyd Maides, shall weepe our Banishments,
And in their Songs,
curse ever-blinded fortune,
Till shee for shame see what a wrong she
has done
To youth and nature. This is all our world;
We shall know
nothing here but one another,
Heare nothing but the Clocke that tels
our woes.
The Vine shall grow, but we shall never see it:
Sommer
shall come, and with her all delights;
But dead-cold winter must
inhabite here still.
PALAMON.

Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban houndes,
That shooke the aged
Forrest with their ecchoes,
No more now must we halloa, no more
shake
Our pointed Iavelyns, whilst the angry Swine
Flyes like a
parthian quiver from our rages,
Strucke with our well-steeld Darts:
All valiant uses
(The foode, and nourishment of noble mindes,)
In
us two here shall perish; we shall die
(Which is the curse of honour)
lastly
Children of greife, and Ignorance.
ARCITE.
Yet, Cosen,
Even from the bottom of these miseries,
From all that
fortune can inflict upon us,
I see two comforts rysing, two meere
blessings,
If the gods please: to hold here a brave patience,
And the
enjoying of our greefes together.
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me
perish
If I thinke this our prison.
PALAMON.
Certeinly,
Tis a maine goodnes, Cosen, that our fortunes
Were
twyn'd together; tis most true, two soules
Put in two noble Bodies--let
'em suffer
The gaule of hazard, so they grow together--
Will never
sincke; they must not, say they could:
A willing man dies sleeping,
and all's done.
ARCITE.
Shall we make worthy uses of this place
That all men hate so much?
PALAMON.
How, gentle Cosen?
ARCITE.
Let's thinke this prison holy sanctuary,
To keepe us from corruption
of worse men.
We