_Arc._ Yes, I love her, And if the lives of all my name lay on it, I must do so, I love her with my soul, If that will lose ye, farewel _Palamon_. I say again, I love, and in loving her, maintain I am as worthy and as free a Lover And have as just a title to her beauty As any _Palamon_, or any living That is a mans Son. _Pal._ Have I call'd thee friend? _Arc._ Yes, and have found me so; why are you mov'd thus? Let me deal coldly with you, am not I Part of your blood, part of your soul? you have told me That I was _Palamon_, and you were _Arcite_. _Pal._ Yes. _Arc._ Am not I liable to those affections, Those joyes, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall suffer? _Pal._ Ye may be. _Arc._ Why then would you deal so cunningly, So strangely, so unlike a Noble Kinsman To love alone? speak truly, do you think me Unworthy of her sight? _Pal._ No, but unjust, If thou pursue that [si]ght. _Arc._ Because another First sees the Enemy, shall I stand still And let mine honor down, and never charge? _Pal._ Yes, if he be but one. _Arc._ But say that one Had rather combat me? _Pal._ Let that one say so, And use thy freedom: else if thou pursuest her, Be as that cursed man that hates his Countrey, A branded villain. _Arc._ You are mad. _Pal._ I must be. Till thou art worthy, _Arcite_, it concerns me, And in this madness, if I hazard thee And take thy life, I deal but truly. _Arc._ Fie Sir. You play the child extreamly: I will love her, I must, I ought to do so, and I dare, And all this justly. _Pal._ Oh that now, that now Thy false-self, and thy friend, had but this fortune To be one hour at liberty, and graspe Our good swords in our hands, I would quickly teach thee What 'twere to filch affection from another: Thou art baser in it than a Cutpurse; Put but thy head out of this window more, And as I have a soul, I'll nail thy life to't. _Arc._ Thou dar'st not fool, thou canst not, thou art feeble. Put my head out? I'll throw my Body out, And leap the Garden, when I see her next. _Enter Keeper._ And pitch between her Arms to anger thee. _Pal._ No more; the Keepers coming; I shall live To knock thy brains out with my Shackles. _Arc._ Doe. _Keep._ By your leave, Gentlemen. _Pala._ Now honest Keeper? _Keep._ Lord _Arcite_, you must presently to th' Duke; The cause I know not yet. _Arc._ I am ready Keeper. _Keep._ Prince _Palamon_, I must awhile bereave you Of your fair Cosins company. [_Exeunt_ Arcite, _and Keeper_.