Page 1321 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Summer shall come, and with her all delights,
But dead-cold winter must inhabit here still.

PALAMON
’Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds, [100]
That shook the agèd forest with their echoes,
No more now must we hallow, no more shake

Our pointed javelins, whilst the angry swine
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
Struck with our well-steeled darts. All valiant uses, [105]

The food and nourishment of noble minds,
In us two here shall perish; we shall die −
Which is the curse of honour − lastly,
Children of grief and ignorance.

ARCITE
Yet, cousin,

Even from the bottom of these miseries, [110]
From all that fortune can inflict upon us,
I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings,
If the gods please; to hold here a brave patience,

And the enjoying of our griefs together.
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish [115]
If I think this our prison.

PALAMON
Certainly,
’Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes

Were twinned together. ’Tis most true, two souls
Put in two noble bodies, let ’em suffer
The gall of hazard, so they grow together, [120]

Will never sink, 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?