EMILIA. That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool, To love himself. Were there not maids enough? ARCITE. Pray, forward. PALAMON. Yes. EMILIA. Or were they all hard-hearted? WOMAN. They could not be to one so fair. EMILIA. Thou wouldst not. WOMAN. I think I should not, madam. EMILIA. That’s a good wench. But take heed to your kindness, though. WOMAN. Why, madam? EMILIA. Men are mad things. ARCITE. Will ye go forward, cousin? EMILIA. Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench? WOMAN. Yes. EMILIA. I’ll have a gown full of ’em, and of these. This is a pretty colour; will ’t not do Rarely upon a skirt, wench? WOMAN. Dainty, madam. ARCITE. Cousin, cousin! How do you, sir? Why, Palamon! PALAMON. Never till now I was in prison, Arcite. ARCITE. Why, what’s the matter, man? PALAMON. Behold, and wonder! By heaven, she is a goddess. ARCITE. Ha! PALAMON. Do reverence. She is a goddess, Arcite. EMILIA. Of all flowers, Methinks a rose is best. WOMAN. Why, gentle madam? EMILIA. It is the very emblem of a maid. For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blows and paints the sun With her chaste blushes! When the north comes near her, Rude and impatient, then, like chastity, She locks her beauties in her bud again, And leaves him to base briers. WOMAN. Yet, good madam, Sometimes her modesty will blow so far She falls for ’t. A maid, If she have any honour, would be loath To take example by her. EMILIA. Thou art wanton. ARCITE. She is wondrous fair. PALAMON. She is all the beauty extant. EMILIA. The sun grows high; let’s walk in. Keep these flowers. We’ll see how near art can come near their colours. I am wondrous merry-hearted. I could laugh now. WOMAN. I could lie down, I am sure. EMILIA. And take one with you? WOMAN. That’s as we bargain, madam. EMILIA. Well, agree then. [_Exeunt Emilia and Woman._] PALAMON. What think you of this beauty? ARCITE. ’Tis a rare one. PALAMON. Is’t but a rare one? ARCITE. Yes, a matchless beauty. PALAMON. Might not a man well lose himself, and love her? ARCITE. I cannot tell what you have done; I have, Beshrew mine eyes for’t! Now I feel my shackles. PALAMON. You love her, then? ARCITE. Who would not? PALAMON. And desire her? ARCITE. Before my liberty. PALAMON. I saw her first. ARCITE. That’s nothing. PALAMON. But it shall be. ARCITE. I saw her too. PALAMON. Yes, but you must not love her. ARCITE. I will not, as you do, to worship her As she is heavenly and a blessed goddess. I love her as a woman, to enjoy her. So both may love. PALAMON. You shall not love at all. ARCITE. Not love at all! Who shall deny me? PALAMON. I, that first saw her; I that took possession First with mine eye of all those beauties in her Revealed to mankind. If thou lovest her, Or entertain’st a hope to blast my wishes, Thou art a traitor, Arcite, and a fellow False as thy title to her. Friendship, blood, And all the ties between us, I disclaim If thou once think upon her.