DAUGHTER. He has mistook the brake I meant, is gone After his fancy. ’Tis now well-nigh morning. No matter; would it were perpetual night, And darkness lord o’ th’ world. Hark, ’tis a wolf! In me hath grief slain fear, and but for one thing, I care for nothing, and that’s Palamon. I reck not if the wolves would jaw me, so He had this file. What if I hallowed for him? I cannot hallow. If I whooped, what then? If he not answered, I should call a wolf, And do him but that service. I have heard Strange howls this livelong night; why may ’t not be They have made prey of him? He has no weapons; He cannot run; the jingling of his gyves Might call fell things to listen, who have in them A sense to know a man unarmed and can Smell where resistance is. I’ll set it down He’s torn to pieces; they howled many together, And then they fed on him. So much for that. Be bold to ring the bell. How stand I then? All’s chared when he is gone. No, no, I lie. My father’s to be hanged for his escape; Myself to beg, if I prized life so much As to deny my act; but that I would not, Should I try death by dozens. I am moped. Food took I none these two days; Sipped some water. I have not closed mine eyes Save when my lids scoured off their brine. Alas, Dissolve, my life! Let not my sense unsettle, Lest I should drown, or stab, or hang myself. O state of nature, fail together in me, Since thy best props are warped! So, which way now? The best way is the next way to a grave; Each errant step beside is torment. Lo, The moon is down, the crickets chirp, the screech owl Calls in the dawn. All offices are done Save what I fail in. But the point is this: An end, and that is all. [_Exit._] SCENE III. The same part of the forest as in scene I. Enter Arcite with meat, wine and files. ARCITE. I should be near the place.—Ho! Cousin Palamon! PALAMON. [_From the bush._] Arcite? ARCITE. The same. I have brought you food and files. Come forth and fear not; here’s no Theseus. Enter Palamon. PALAMON. Nor none so honest, Arcite. ARCITE. That’s no matter. We’ll argue that hereafter. Come, take courage; You shall not die thus beastly. Here, sir, drink— I know you are faint—then I’ll talk further with you. PALAMON. Arcite, thou mightst now poison me. ARCITE. I might; But I must fear you first. Sit down and, good now, No more of these vain parleys; let us not, Having our ancient reputation with us, Make talk for fools and cowards. To your health. [_Drinks._] PALAMON. Do. ARCITE. Pray sit down, then, and let me entreat you, By all the honesty and honour in you, No mention of this woman; ’twill disturb us. We shall have time enough. PALAMON. Well, sir, I’ll pledge you. [_Drinks._] ARCITE. Drink a good hearty draught; it breeds good blood, man. Do not you feel it thaw you? PALAMON. Stay, I’ll tell you After a draught or two more. ARCITE. Spare it not; the Duke has more, coz. Eat now. PALAMON. Yes. [_Eats._] ARCITE. I am glad you have so good a stomach.