ARCITE. 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, farewell, 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 man’s son. PALAMON. Have I called thee friend? ARCITE. Yes, and have found me so. Why are you moved 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. PALAMON. Yes. ARCITE. Am not I liable to those affections, Those joys, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall suffer? PALAMON. Ye may be. ARCITE. 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? PALAMON. No; but unjust, If thou pursue that sight. ARCITE. Because another First sees the enemy, shall I stand still And let mine honour down, and never charge? PALAMON. Yes, if he be but one. ARCITE. But say that one Had rather combat me? PALAMON. Let that one say so, And use thy freedom. Else, if thou pursuest her, Be as that cursed man that hates his country, A branded villain. ARCITE. You are mad. PALAMON. 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 truely. ARCITE. Fie, sir! You play the child extremely. I will love her; I must, I ought to do so, and I dare, And all this justly. PALAMON. O, that now, that now, Thy false self and thy friend had but this fortune, To be one hour at liberty, and grasp 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. ARCITE. 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 And pitch between her arms, to anger thee. Enter Jailer. PALAMON. No more; the keeper’s coming. I shall live To knock thy brains out with my shackles. ARCITE. Do! JAILER. By your leave, gentlemen. PALAMON. Now, honest keeper? JAILER. Lord Arcite, you must presently to th’ Duke; The cause I know not yet. ARCITE. I am ready, keeper. JAILER. Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you Of your fair cousin’s company. [_Exeunt Arcite and Jailer._]