_Daugh._ It seems to me, they have no more sence of their Captivity, than I of ruling _Athens_: they eat Well, look merrily, discourse of many things, But nothing of their own restraint, and disasters: Yet sometime a divided sigh, martyr'd as 'twere I' th' deliverance, will break from one of them, When the other presently gives it so sweet a rebuke, That I could wish my self a sigh to be so chid, Or at least a sigher to be comforted. _Wooer._ I never saw 'em. _Jail._ The Duke himself came privately in the night. _Enter_ Palamon, _and_ Arcite _above_. And so did they, what the reason of it is, I Know not: Look, yonder they are; that's _Arcite_ looks out. _Daugh._ No Sir, no, that's _Palamon_: _Arcite_ is the Lower of the twain; you may perceive a part Of him. _Jail._ Go to, leave your pointing; they would not Make us their object; out of their sight. _Daugh._ It is a holliday to look on them: Lord, the Difference of men. [_Exeunt._ _Scæna Secunda._ _Enter_ Palamon, _and_ Arcite _in prison_. _Pal._ How do you, Noble Cosin? _Arcite._ How do you, Sir? _Pal._ Why, strong enough to laugh at misery, And bear the chance of war yet, we are prisoners I fear for ever Cosin. _Arcite._ I believe it, And to that destiny have patiently Laid up my hour to come. _Pal._ Oh Cosin _Arcite_, Where is _Thebs_ now? where is our noble Countrey? Where are our friends, and kindreds? never more Must we behold those comforts, never see The hardy youths strive for the Games of honor (Hung with the painted favours of their Ladies) Like tall Ships under Sail: then start amongst 'em And as an Eastwind leave 'em all behind us, Like lazy Clouds, whilst _Palamon_ and _Arcite_, Even in the wagging of a wanton leg Out-stript the peoples praises, won the Garlands, E'r they have time to wish 'em ours. Oh never Shall we two exercise, like twins of honor, Our Arms again, and feel our fiery horses, Like proud Seas under us, our good Swords, now (Better the red-ey'd god of War nev'r were) Bravish'd our sides, like age, must run to rust, And deck the Temples of those gods that hate us, These hands shall never draw 'em out like light'ning To blast whole Armies more.