Page 1368 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Two swords and two good armours; if he fail,
He’s neither man nor soldier. When he left me,
I did not think a week could have restored [5]
My lost strength to me, I was grown so low

And crestfallen with my wants. I thank thee, Arcite,
Thou art yet a fair foe; and I feel myself,
With this refreshing, able once again
To outdure danger. To delay it longer [10]

Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing,
That I lay fatting like a swine to fight,
And not a soldier. Therefore this blest morning
Shall be the last; and that sword he refuses,

If it but hold, I kill him with; ’tis justice. [15]
So, love and fortune for me!
Enter Arcite with armours and swords.
O, good morrow.

ARCITE

Good morrow, noble kinsman.

PALAMON

I have put you
To too much pains, sir.

ARCITE
That too much, fair cousin,
Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.

PALAMON
Would you were so in all, sir; I could wish ye [20]

As kind a kinsman as you force me find
A beneficial foe, that my embraces
Might thank ye, not my blows.

ARCITE
I shall think either,

Well done, a noble recompense.