PALAMON. About this hour my cousin gave his faith To visit me again, and with him bring Two swords and two good armours. If he fail, He’s neither man nor soldier. When he left me, I did not think a week could have restored My lost strength to me, I was grown so low And crestfall’n with my wants. I thank thee, Arcite, Thou art yet a fair foe, and I feel myself, With this refreshing, able once again To outdure danger. To delay it longer Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing, That I lay fatting like a swine to fight And not a soldier. Therefore, this blest morning Shall be the last; and that sword he refuses, If it but hold, I kill him with. ’Tis justice. So, love and fortune for me! Enter Arcite with armours and swords. O, good morrow. ARCITE. Good morrow, noble kinsman. PALAMON. I have put you To too much pains, sir. ARCITE. That too much, fair cousin, Is but a debt to honour, and my duty. PALAMON. Would you were so in all, sir; I could wish ye As kind a kinsman as you force me find A beneficial foe, that my embraces Might thank ye, not my blows. ARCITE. I shall think either, Well done, a noble recompence. PALAMON. Then I shall quit you. ARCITE. Defy me in these fair terms, and you show More than a mistress to me. No more anger, As you love anything that’s honourable! We were not bred to talk, man; when we are armed And both upon our guards, then let our fury, Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us; And then to whom the birthright of this beauty Truly pertains—without upbraidings, scorns, Despisings of our persons, and such poutings, Fitter for girls and schoolboys—will be seen, And quickly, yours or mine. Will ’t please you arm, sir? Or, if you feel yourself not fitting yet And furnished with your old strength, I’ll stay, cousin, And every day discourse you into health, As I am spared. Your person I am friends with, And I could wish I had not said I loved her, Though I had died; but, loving such a lady, And justifying my love, I must not fly from ’t. PALAMON. Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy, That no man but thy cousin’s fit to kill thee. I am well and lusty; choose your arms. ARCITE. Choose you, sir. PALAMON. Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost thou do it To make me spare thee? ARCITE. If you think so, cousin, You are deceived, for as I am a soldier, I will not spare you. PALAMON. That’s well said. ARCITE. You’ll find it. PALAMON. Then, as I am an honest man and love With all the justice of affection, I’ll pay thee soundly. [_He chooses armour._] This I’ll take. ARCITE. That’s mine, then. I’ll arm you first. PALAMON. Do. [_Arcite begins arming him._] Pray thee, tell me, cousin, Where got’st thou this good armour? ARCITE. ’Tis the Duke’s, And, to say true, I stole it. Do I pinch you? PALAMON. No. ARCITE. Is’t not too heavy? PALAMON. I have worn a lighter, But I shall make it serve. ARCITE. I’ll buckle ’t close. PALAMON. By any means. ARCITE. You care not for a grand guard?