_Emil._ Yet I may bind those wounds up, that must open And bleed to death for my sake else; I'll choose, And end their strife: two such young handsome men Shall never fall for me, their weeping Mothers, Following the dead cold ashes of their Sons Shall never curse my cruelty: Good Heaven; What a sweet face has _Arcite_, if wise nature With all her best endowments, all those beauties She [sowes] into the births of noble bodies, Were here a mortal woman, and had in her The coy denials of young Maids, yet doubtless, She would run mad for this man: what an eye! Of what a fiery sparkle, and quick sweetness: Has this young Prince! here Love himself sits smiling, Just such another wanton _Ganimead_, Set Love a fire with, and enforc'd the god Snatch up the goodly Boy, and set him by him A shining constellation: what a brow, Of what a spacious Majesty he carries! Arch'd like the great ey'd _Juno_'s, but far sweeter, Smoother than _Pelops_ Shoulder! Fame and Honor Methinks from hence, as from a Promontory Pointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and sing To all the under world, the Loves, and Fights Of gods, and such men near 'em. _Palamon_, Is but his foil, to him, a mere dull shadow, He's swarth, and meagre, of an eye as heavy As if he had lost his mother; a still temper, No stirring in him, no alacrity, Of all this sprightly sharpness, not a smile; Yet these that we count errors, may become him: _Narcissus_ was a sad Boy, but a heavenly: Oh who can find the bent of womans fancy? I'm a fool, my reason is lost in me, I have no choice, and I have ly'd so lewdly That Women ought to beat me. On my knees I ask thy pardon: _Palamon_, thou art alone, And only beautiful, and these th[e] eyes, These the bright lamps of Beauty that command And threaten Love, and what young Maid dare cross 'em What a bold gravity, and yet inviting Has this brown manly face! Oh Love, this only From this hour is complexion: lye there _Arcite_, Thou art a changling to him, a mere Gipsie. And this the noble Bodie: I am sotted, Utterly lost: My Virgins faith has fled me. For if my Brother, but even now had ask'd me Whether I lov'd, I had run mad for _Arcite_. Now if my Sister; More for _Palamon_. Stand both together: now, come ask me Brother, Alas, I know not: ask me now sweet Sister, I may go look; what a mere child is _Fancie_, That having two fair gawds of equal sweetness, Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both. _Enter_ Emil. _and Gent._ _Emil._ How now Sir? _Gent._ From the Noble Duke your Brother Madam, I bring you news: the Knights are come. _Emil._ To end the quarrel? _Gent._ Yes.